The gates of the Suryavansh Federal War Academy had witnessed generations of legends pass beneath them.
Generals.
Strategists.
Pilots.
Intelligence officers.
Commanders whose names had later appeared in the history books of the Eastern Federation.
Built across an enormous plateau surrounded by mountains, the academy looked less like a school and more like a city prepared for war.
Its central administrative building rose above the valley in dark stone and steel, crowned by the golden emblem of the Eastern Federation.
Four wings extended from the central complex, symbolizing the great civilizations that had united beneath the Federation centuries ago.
Training grounds stretched toward the horizon.
Aircraft periodically crossed the sky.
Armored vehicles moved along distant roads.
Cadets marched across enormous courtyards with such synchronization that hundreds of boots struck the ground as one.
And engraved above the academy’s main gate were words known to every soldier in the Federation:
STRENGTH WITHOUT WISDOM IS VIOLENCE.
WISDOM WITHOUT COURAGE IS HELPLESSNESS.
POWER WITHOUT DUTY IS TYRANNY.
Krishna Li Vardhan stood before those words.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
This was where the next stage of his life would begin.
But only hours earlier, leaving home had been considerably less dignified.
“Stand straight.”
Krishna sighed.
“I am standing straight.”
“No, you’re standing almost straight.”
“I didn’t know there was a difference.”
“There is always a difference.”
Ishani Vardhan adjusted his collar for perhaps the fifth time.
Krishna endured it patiently.
His eldest sister stepped backward and examined him.
“No fighting unless necessary.”
“I’m entering a military academy.”
“I said unnecessary fighting.”
“Fine.”
“Don’t skip meals.”
“I won’t.”
“Don’t stay awake studying until three in the morning.”
Krishna remained suspiciously silent.
Ishani narrowed her eyes.
“Krishna.”
“I’ll try.”
“That means you intend to do it.”
“I said I’ll try.”
“And don’t think because you’re a Vardhan everyone will tolerate your habits.”
“I don’t have bad habits.”
Kavya’s voice came from behind them.
“He has several.”
Krishna turned.
His second elder sister leaned against the doorway, smiling.
“Thank you for supporting me.”
“I’m your sister.
It’s my responsibility to keep you humble.”
Ishani ignored them.
“If you’re injured, report it.”
“Yes.”
“If something is wrong, tell someone.”
“Yes.”
“And—”
Krishna suddenly hugged her.
Ishani froze.
For a moment, the formidable eldest Vardhan daughter had absolutely nothing to say.
Krishna smiled against her shoulder.
“I’ll be fine, Didi.”
Her hands slowly rose.
She hugged him back.
Her voice became much quieter.
“You better be.”
When Krishna stepped away, Ishani immediately regained her composure.
“And call Mother.”
Krishna smiled.
“Every week.”
“Twice a week.”
“Once.”
“Three times.”
“How did negotiating reduce my position?”
“Because you’re bad at negotiating.”
Kavya laughed.
“Just surrender, Krishna.”
Krishna sighed.
“Twice.”
Ishani nodded.
“Acceptable.”
“You’re becoming Father.”
“Don’t insult me.”
A deep voice came from behind them.
“I heard that.”
Everyone froze.
Aditya Vardhan stood in the doorway.
Kavya immediately looked elsewhere.
Krishna struggled not to laugh.
Ishani calmly stepped aside.
Aditya’s gaze settled on his son.
“Ready?”
Krishna’s expression became serious.
“Yes, Father.”
“Then come.”
Li Yuerou waited downstairs.
She had personally checked Krishna’s luggage despite servants already checking it twice.
Then she checked it again.
“Mother.”
“Hm?”
“You already checked that.”
“I’m checking whether they checked it correctly.”
Krishna looked toward Kavya.
Kavya whispered:
“Don’t interfere.”
Krishna wisely obeyed.
Yuerou closed the suitcase.
Then she looked at her son.
Her expression changed.
For years, she had known this day would arrive.
Every male heir of the Vardhan family underwent military education.
It was tradition.
But traditions were much easier to respect when someone else’s child was following them.
“Yichen.”
Krishna immediately softened.
His mother rarely called him Krishna
To her, he had always been Yichen.
She touched his cheek.
“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”
Krishna looked at her.
“Mother—”
“I know.”
She smiled faintly.
“I know what your father will say.
I know what the family elders expect.
I know what the newspapers will eventually expect when they discover another Vardhan has entered Suryavansh.”
Her fingers gently brushed his hair aside.
“But none of them carried you for nine months.”
Krishna became silent.
“So listen to your mother.”
“Always.”
“Come back safely.”
Something tightened inside his chest.
He smiled.
“I will.”
“No reckless heroics.”
“Mother, it’s an academy.”
“You’re a Vardhan.”
Krishna couldn’t argue with that.
Yuerou suddenly pulled him into her arms.
For a moment, Krishna was no genius.
No transmigrator.
No system holder.
No heir.
He was simply someone’s son.
“You can fail,” she whispered.
Krishna’s eyes widened slightly.
“You can lose.”
Her arms tightened.
“You can come last in every examination they give you.
I don’t care.”
“Mother…”
“But come home.”
Krishna closed his eyes.
“I promise.”
Standing several steps away, Aditya said nothing.
But his expression became complicated.
Then came the twins.
Arjun had been suspiciously quiet all morning.
Ananya had not.
“This is unfair!”
Krishna looked down.
Ananya’s eyes were already red.
“What’s unfair?”
“You!”
“Me?”
“You’re leaving!”
“For school.”
“For years!”
“I’ll come home during breaks.”
“That’s still leaving!”
Krishna crouched.
Ananya immediately threw herself around him.
He nearly lost balance.
“Don’t go.”
Krishna gently stroked her hair.
“Xinyi…”
That made her cry harder.
Krishna looked helplessly toward his family.
Kavya covered her mouth.
Ishani looked emotional.
His mother had already turned away to hide her expression.
Aditya—
Aditya looked at Krishna as if this were a military problem his son was expected to solve himself.
Traitor.
Krishna sighed.
“Do you remember the stories I tell you?”
Ananya nodded against him.
“I’m going to collect better ones.”
She slowly raised her head.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“You’ll tell me?”
“Every one.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
A small hand suddenly appeared between them.
Arjun stood nearby.
Unlike his twin sister, he was desperately maintaining his dignity.
“Good luck.”
Krishna looked at the hand.
Then at Arjun.
“That’s it?”
Arjun frowned.
“What else?”
“My little brother is sending me into the most prestigious military academy in the Federation with a handshake?”
“I’m not little.”
“You’re younger than me.”
“That’s temporary.”
Krishna blinked.
“…How?”
Arjun realized the flaw.
Kavya burst into laughter.
Even Aditya looked amused.
Krishna ignored the offered hand and pulled Arjun into a hug.
“Brother!”
“Take care of Ananya.”
“She doesn’t need—”
“Hey!”
“And keep training.”
Arjun stopped struggling.
“One day I’ll beat you.”
Krishna smiled.
“I’ll be waiting.”
Arjun’s eyes suddenly became wet.
He immediately looked down.
“Don’t lose before I get the chance.”
Krishna’s smile disappeared.
He hugged him slightly tighter.
“I won’t.”
Kavya intercepted Krishna next.
Unlike Ishani, she carried no list.
No instructions.
No warnings.
She simply handed him a small box.
Krishna opened it.
Inside was an old fountain pen.
He recognized it.
“You kept this?”
“You gave it to me when you were six.”
“I thought you lost it.”
“I told you I lost it because you wouldn’t stop asking.”
Krishna stared at her.
“Why give it back?”
Kavya shrugged.
“You’re going somewhere people will constantly remind you that you’re Krishna Li Vardhan.”
Her playful expression softened.
“Write something occasionally that reminds you who Krishna is without the Li or Vardhan.”
Krishna stared at the pen.
That sentence affected him more than Kavya probably realized.
Perhaps because there truly had been a time when Krishna himself didn’t know who he was.
A man from another world?
A reincarnated soul?
The Vardhan heir?
Li Yuerou’s Yichen?
A future actor?
A soldier?
Maybe all of them.
Kavya punched his shoulder lightly.
“Don’t look so serious.”
Krishna smiled.
“Thank you.”
“And one more thing.”
“What?”
“Break the record.”
Krishna laughed.
“Ishani spent twenty minutes telling me not to pressure myself.”
“I’m not Ishani.”
Kavya raised her fist.
“If you’re going anyway, make them remember you.”
Krishna bumped his fist against hers.
“Now that sounds like my sister.”
Dilraba waited outside.
Krishna hadn’t expected her.
She stood beside the estate’s old maple tree, hands behind her back.
When she saw him, she smiled.
“Young Master Vardhan.”
Krishna groaned.
“Not you too.”
She walked toward him.
“Future General Vardhan?”
“Worse.”
“Marshal?”
“Stop.”
“Supreme Commander?”
“Dilraba.”
She laughed.
Then they became quiet.
The academy vehicle waited in the distance.
Everyone understood they had only minutes.
Dilraba looked at his uniform.
“It suits you.”
Krishna looked down.
“Really?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Your compliments continue to improve.”
“I practiced.”
She smiled.
Then her expression became serious.
“Everyone thinks you’ll succeed.”
Krishna looked at her.
“Father expects me to excel.
Grandfather probably expects me to break records.
Kavya explicitly ordered me to.”
Dilraba laughed softly.
“And what do you expect?”
The question surprised him.
Krishna looked toward the mountains.
“I don’t know.”
Dilraba studied him.
“You’ll figure it out.”
Krishna looked back.
She said it without hesitation.
No doubt.
No grand speech.
Just absolute certainty.
“How do you know?”
“Because you’re Yichen.”
Krishna smiled.
“That’s your reasoning?”
“Yes.”
“Very scientific.”
“I know you.”
She stepped closer.
“Maybe everyone else sees Krishna Li Vardhan.”
Her voice softened.
“The genius.”
“The heir.”
“The boy who’s first at everything.”
“The future soldier.”
“But I’ve seen you lose your shoes.”
Krishna’s expression collapsed.
“That happened once.”
“Twice.”
“Once.”
“You wore two different shoes to breakfast.”
“I was eight.”
“And you tried convincing everyone it was fashion.”
Krishna covered his face.
“Why are you mentioning this before I leave?”
“Because you’re getting too dramatic.”
He laughed.
Exactly what she wanted.
Then Dilraba smiled.
“Go.”
Krishna lowered his hands.
“Show them what you can do.”
She paused.
“But don’t let them decide what you have to become.”
Krishna stared at her.
For some reason, those words remained in his mind.
Don’t let them decide what you have to become.
He nodded.
“I won’t.”
“Good.”
Dilraba raised her fist.
Krishna gently bumped his against it.
“I’ll see you when you come back.”
“Definitely.”
She smiled.
“I have faith in you.”
And somehow— those simple words meant more than predictions of greatness.
Aditya accompanied Krishna for the final part of the journey.
For nearly half an hour, neither spoke.
Mountains passed outside the vehicle.
Eventually Aditya broke the silence.
“Do you know what people expect from you?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Krishna looked toward him.
Aditya continued.
“They expect you to succeed because you’re my son.”
His voice remained calm.
“Some will respect you because you’re a Vardhan.”
“Some will hate you for the same reason.”
“Some instructors will deliberately make things harder for you because they don’t want accusations of favoritism.”
“Some cadets will challenge you merely so they can say they defeated a Vardhan.”
Krishna listened silently.
“Your academic achievements won’t matter there.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
Aditya turned toward him.
“Suryavansh has broken students far more talented than you.”
Krishna didn’t respond.
Aditya looked ahead again.
“I expect excellence.”
There it was.
Not reassurance.
Not comfort.
Aditya Vardhan’s expectation.
“Not because you’re gifted.”
His next words surprised Krishna.
“Because you’ve been given opportunities millions of children will never receive.”
Krishna’s expression changed.
“Education.
Teachers.
Wealth.
Safety.
Training.”
Aditya looked directly into his son’s eyes.
“Privilege creates responsibility.”
Krishna remembered the ancestral hall.
“Yes, Father.”
“The Vardhan Examination will begin alongside your academy education.”
Krishna’s eyes sharpened.
“You won’t always know when you’re being tested.”
That caught his attention.
Aditya continued.
“Some tests will be academic.”
“Some physical.”
“Some strategic.”
“Others will test your character.”
“And eventually?”
Aditya became silent.
Krishna knew.
The final examination.
A real military assignment.
Every eligible male heir of the Vardhan line had faced one.
Not ceremonial service.
Not simulated war.
Reality.
Aditya finally spoke.
“When the time comes, you’ll choose.”
“The mission?”
“Yes.”
Krishna nodded.
Aditya watched him.
“I won’t choose it for you.”
That mattered.
“Thank you, Father.”
“Don’t thank me.”
Aditya looked toward the approaching mountains.
“Make the correct choice.”
The vehicle finally stopped.
Krishna stepped out.
And there it was.
SURYAVANSH FEDERAL WAR ACADEMY
Cadets moved everywhere.
Some noticed the arriving vehicle.
Then they noticed Krishna.
Whispers began almost immediately.
“Vardhan?”
“That’s him?”
“Krishna Li Vardhan.”
“The academy topper?”
“I heard his entrance score broke—”
Krishna ignored them.
Aditya stepped beside him.
For several seconds, father and son looked toward the academy.
Perhaps Aditya saw something Krishna couldn’t.
His own youth.
His own arrival.
His own father standing beside him.
The continuation of something generations old.
“Krishna.”
“Yes?”
“When you walk through those gates, you’re no longer Young Master Vardhan.”
Krishna looked at him.
“You’re Cadet Krishna.”
Aditya extended his hand.
Krishna stared at it.
Then took it.
Aditya’s grip was firm.
“Proud surnames are inherited.”
His eyes were unwavering.
“Respect is earned.”
Krishna smiled faintly.
“I’ll remember.”
Aditya released him.
Krishna picked up his bag.
He walked toward the gates.
Ten steps.
Twenty.
Then—
“Krishna.”
He stopped.
Turned.
Aditya remained beside the vehicle.
For once, something in the man’s expression wasn’t hidden behind discipline.
“Come back stronger.”
Krishna smiled.
“Yes, Father.”
He turned again.
Above him stood the academy creed.
STRENGTH WITHOUT WISDOM IS VIOLENCE.
WISDOM WITHOUT COURAGE IS HELPLESSNESS.
POWER WITHOUT DUTY IS TYRANNY.
Krishna crossed the threshold.
A mechanical tone suddenly sounded inside his mind.
[Ding!]
[Heaven-Defying System has detected a major life milestone.]
[Host has entered Suryavansh Federal War Academy.]
[Special Growth Phase Activated.]
Krishna’s footsteps paused for half a second.
Then another notification appeared.
[Vardhan Heir Examination detected.]
[Difficulty evaluation…]
[Recalculating…]
[Warning: Standard evaluation parameters insufficient for Host.]
Krishna’s lips twitched.
Here we go.
Around him, thousands of cadets trained beneath the morning sun.
Some dreamed of becoming soldiers.
Others dreamed of commanding armies.
Some sought honor.
Some sought power.
Some simply wanted to serve.
Krishna didn’t yet know what he wanted from this place.
His father saw a future commander.
His mother saw her son walking toward danger.
Ishani wanted him healthy.
Kavya wanted him unforgettable.
Arjun wanted someone he could someday defeat.
Ananya wanted her brother to return with stories.
Dilraba simply believed he would find his way.
And Krishna?
He looked toward the distant academy buildings.
In another life, he had wondered why his life could never become what he desired.
Now he had been given another one.
A powerful family.
Extraordinary talent.
Two heaven-defying systems.
And opportunities most people could only dream about.
He would not waste them.
But neither would he allow gratitude to become a cage.
Perhaps he would become the finest graduate Suryavansh had ever produced.
Perhaps he would complete the Vardhan Examination with achievements that surpassed his ancestors.
Perhaps he would undertake a mission no heir before him had dared to accept.
But after all of that…
there was still a stage somewhere in his future.
Lights.
Cameras.
Stories.
Characters waiting to be brought alive.
A dream his father knew nothing about.
Krishna smiled and continued walking.
For now— he would become a soldier.
And when the day finally came to choose between the path generations of Vardhans had prepared for him…
and the path his own heart desired…
Krishna Li Vardhan would discover whether Aditya truly meant the words he had once spoken.
Whatever you choose to become, become someone capable of standing behind his own choices.
Behind Krishna, the enormous gates of Suryavansh Federal War Academy slowly closed.
His childhood had ended.
His examination— had begun.