Two days remained before the Royal Academy entrance examinations officially commenced.
Inside a quiet, modest chamber at the rear of the manor, Wralq sat cross-legged on the wooden floor.
His back was straight, his hands rested loosely upon his knees, and his breathing had settled into a slow, controlled rhythm.
Beneath his skin, dark mana circulated through his energy pathways like a silent current, moving from one channel to the next before gradually withdrawing into the core of his body.
He did not rush the process.
After days of continuous refinement under Mammon’s guidance, Wralq had brought his mastery over the Demon Runic dual-ring matrix to an entirely new level of precision.
What had once been an unstable and dangerous flow of opposing energies had become something he could manipulate with deliberate control.
The two forces no longer clashed wildly within him.
Instead, they revolved around one another in a tense but carefully maintained balance, fusing and separating according to his will.
Even so, Wralq understood that control did not mean safety.
The power remained unusual, dangerous, and entirely foreign to the world he now found himself living in.
One mistake could expose him.
Another could cause consequences he was not yet strong enough to handle.
When the last traces of dark mana had been retracted, Wralq slowly opened his eyes.
His dark gaze remained fixed on the empty space before him as he considered the question that had been troubling him for some time.
“Mammon,” he asked within his internal mindscape, narrowing his eyes in thought, “the mana I generate by fusing these two opposing energies…
what is its true nature?” For a brief moment, there was only silence.
Then Mammon answered.
His voice reverberated through the depths of Wralq’s mind like ancient thunder echoing across a desolate mountain range.
“It is a mutated hybrid mana,” Mammon replied.
“A force entirely unrecorded in human history.
It is certainly not something common mortals could ever hope to comprehend, let alone master or control.” Wralq did not immediately respond.
He lowered his gaze toward his hands, flexing his fingers once.
There was no visible sign of the power concealed within him.
To an ordinary observer, he appeared to be nothing more than a quiet young man sitting alone in a room.
Yet beneath that ordinary exterior was an energy system that did not belong to the human world.
A mutated hybrid mana.
The words settled heavily in his thoughts.
Wralq had already understood that the power was abnormal.
He had felt it every time he activated the Demon Runic dual-ring matrix.
The energy possessed a strange density, a quality that made it more responsive and destructive than ordinary mana.
However, hearing Mammon confirm that it had never been recorded in human history gave the power a new significance.
It was not merely rare.
It was unknown.
And anything unknown could become either a weapon or a weakness.
Wralq remained silent as he quietly internalized the unique and dangerous value of the power surging beneath his skin.
If other people discovered the truth, they would not necessarily admire him for possessing it.
The more likely result was that they would fear him, attempt to control him, or seek to dissect the secret of his strength for themselves.
None of those possibilities appealed to him.
“How do I guarantee my admission into the academy?” Wralq asked after a moment.
Mammon responded without hesitation.
“You must demonstrate overwhelming superiority.” Wralq’s expression remained calm, but he listened closely.
“Not merely in raw magical talent or practical application,” Mammon continued.
“Those alone will not be enough.
Above all, you must display superior combat intellect.” Combat intellect.
At those words, Wralq’s thoughts came to an abrupt stop.
A critical flaw suddenly surfaced in his mind.
Until now, he had focused primarily on refining his power.
The Demon Runic dual-ring matrix had demanded his full concentration, and Mammon’s training had pushed his mana control to a level that ordinary mages would struggle to imagine.
Yet the entrance examination would not judge him solely on the strength of his mana.
The Royal Academy was a human institution.
Its evaluators would expect candidates to understand the standardized human mana system.
They would be familiar with the accepted methods of spell construction, the formal structure of magical formations, and the proper use of the official script recognized throughout highborn society.
Wralq knew none of that.
He was self-taught.
His understanding of mana came from his own experiences and Mammon’s instruction, not from the formal human education that noble children received from an early age.
He had zero exposure to the standardized human mana system, nor did he know the official magical script utilized by the highborn society.
Divine Runic.
The name alone represented a serious problem.
If he could not construct a standard human spell formation, how could he possibly pass the scrutiny of the academy’s archmage invigilators?
Even if his abilities were powerful, appearing incapable of using the accepted system would immediately raise questions.
He would seem strange at best and suspicious at worst.
Wralq’s gaze hardened.
He had not come this far only to fail because he lacked knowledge that any ordinary noble child would possess.
Sensing his hesitation, Mammon offered a cold assurance.
“I will craft a mechanism for you that solves both issues.” Wralq’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“It will allow you to absorb human magical linguistics seamlessly,” Mammon explained, “while enabling you to construct spell matrices based on their script without sacrificing efficiency.” For the first time since Mammon had mentioned combat intellect, the tension in Wralq’s mind began to ease.
The problem was not impossible.
It was simply another obstacle requiring preparation.
“But first,” Mammon added, his tone becoming more severe, “eat and rest properly.
Do not give those two noble girls a reason to judge you for looking exhausted.” Wralq considered the advice.
It was not unreasonable.
He had spent the past several days pushing his body and mind without allowing himself much proper rest.
Although he could endure more than most people, exhaustion could still create mistakes.
In his current situation, even a small mistake could attract unnecessary attention.
The two girls in House Corvus were already watching him carefully.
Looking weak, sickly, or strangely fatigued would only give them another reason to scrutinize his behavior.
After a moment, Wralq nodded.
The lingering anxiety in his thoughts evaporated, replaced by a quiet and focused determination.
He rose from the floor, brushed a faint trace of dust from his clothing, and walked toward the desk positioned beside the window.
Rather than immediately seeking food, he pulled several books toward himself.
The titles concerned military doctrine, battlefield positioning, strategic formations, and the principles of command.
Wralq had no intention of relying only on raw power during the examination.
If the academy wanted to test combat intellect, then he would show them that he understood far more than how to release destructive mana.
He began reading.
Every page contained information that could be applied to a battle.
Some passages described how to maintain control over a chaotic battlefield.
Others focused on anticipating an opponent’s movement, identifying weaknesses in formation, and turning terrain into an advantage.
Wralq read with intense concentration, memorizing the essential principles and comparing them against his own experiences.
The books were written for human soldiers and commanders, but the logic beneath them was universal.
A battle was not won solely by the strongest force.
It was won by the person who understood the situation first, adapted most efficiently, and forced the opponent to respond according to his design.
Wralq continued studying until night fell over the Corvus estate.
Darkness gradually spread beyond the window, shrouding the manor and its surrounding grounds in shadow.
Lamps were lit throughout the corridors, and the faint sounds of servants moving through the household drifted through the walls.
Throughout the morning and afternoon, Wralq had intentionally avoided the dining hall.
He had no desire to create unnecessary friction with his adoptive sisters, nor did he want to give them additional opportunities to question him.
However, when evening arrived and Baron Ronald returned from his duties, Wralq descended to the main hall for the first time that day to join the family for dinner.
The dining room was illuminated by several candles placed along the center of the long table.
Their golden light reflected off the polished silverware and cast soft shadows across the faces of everyone seated there.
The atmosphere was slightly tense.
Baroness Eleanor offered Wralq a gentle smile when he entered.
Her expression was welcoming enough, but her eyes remained observant.
She maintained a neutral stance, neither overly warm nor distant.
Wralq suspected that she was silently evaluating him, waiting for the right opportunity to judge his character.
He did not blame her for being cautious.
He was an unfamiliar boy who had suddenly become part of her household.
Any intelligent noblewoman would want to understand the nature of the person being brought into her home.
Clara and Lyra, however, made no effort to conceal their disdain.
Clara sat with her chin slightly raised, her posture displaying the effortless arrogance of someone accustomed to being obeyed.
As Wralq approached the table, she looked him over with open irritation.
“Must someone who just arrived wait until the food is served before coming down?” she asked.
Her tone was coated in patronizing contempt.
“Couldn’t you bother to go to the kitchen and help the servants bring out the meal?” The words were not truly about the food.
Clara was reminding him of his position—or, more accurately, the position she believed he occupied.
He was new to the household, an orphan from an unknown background, and someone who had not yet earned the right to consider himself their equal.
Wralq understood that immediately.
He lowered his head slightly, maintaining an expression of absolute composure and humility.
“Forgive me, sister,” he replied.
“I feared that entering the kitchen during peak preparation would obstruct the servants and disrupt the family’s dinner.
I will be more mindful in the future.” His response was measured, respectful, and impossible to criticize without making Clara appear unreasonable.
For a moment, Clara was left speechless.
She had likely expected him to become defensive, embarrassed, or angry.
Instead, he had answered with such impeccable politeness that any further accusation would have made her look childish.
Before she could find another response, Baron Ronald intervened.
He lifted one hand and waved dismissively.
“That is enough, Clara.
Wralq is a member of this household, not a servant.
Let us eat.” Clara’s lips tightened, but she did not argue with her father.
The meal proceeded without further incident.
Wralq ate quietly and observed the family without making his attention obvious.
Baron Ronald spoke occasionally about his duties, while Baroness Eleanor responded with calm attentiveness.
Clara remained visibly displeased, and Lyra’s expression carried a mixture of suspicion and hostility.
Wralq offered no opening for either of them.
He did not speak unnecessarily, did not display discomfort, and did not allow his gaze to linger on anyone for too long.
Every movement was controlled.
Every answer, when required, was polite and brief.
By the time dessert had been finished, the tension at the table had eased slightly.
When the servants began clearing the dishes, Wralq rose from his seat and approached Baron Ronald and his wife.
He stopped at a respectful distance and offered them a formal bow.
“Father, Mother…” he began.
His tone carried quiet sincerity.
“I have begun adjusting well to life here over the past few days.
I am deeply grateful to you both for granting me this opportunity and for giving me a life far better than what I had before.” Baron Ronald and his wife smiled warmly.
The Baron appeared especially pleased.
He reached out and patted Wralq’s shoulder with a broad, fatherly gesture.
“You do not need to be so formal, child,” he said.
“Rest assured, in time, we will view you as our own blood.” The words were kind, but Wralq did not allow himself to be moved by them.
He understood that affection could be genuine while still being fragile.
The Baron might sincerely wish to accept him, but acceptance within a noble household was not determined by words alone.
It would be shaped by time, conduct, reputation, and the judgments of those around him.
Standing nearby, young Lyra scoffed under her breath.
“Nothing but a flatterer.” Her voice was quiet, but not quiet enough to escape Wralq’s hearing.
Meanwhile, Clara paid no attention to the exchange.
She turned silently and walked back toward her room, her footsteps firm against the floor.
Wralq did not react to either girl.
He respectfully bade his adoptive parents goodnight before retreating to his own quarters.
Only after he had entered the room and locked the door behind him did his expression change.
The warmth disappeared from his face.
He glanced toward the door, ensuring that no one was standing outside, then spoke in a low voice.
“Mammon, is there a way to eliminate those two troublesome girls?
Their presence is an annoyance.” Mammon’s reply came quickly.
“Doing so now would leave far too many traces.” Wralq’s gaze remained fixed on the closed door.
“Then what do you suggest?” “Do not startle the snake,” Mammon warned.
“Observe their behavior for now and formulate a contingency later.” Wralq frowned.
A flicker of genuine concern appeared in his eyes.
The reason he was so wary of the two sisters was not merely their hostility.
He suspected that both Clara and Lyra were also enrolled at the Royal Academy.
If that suspicion was correct, then their presence posed a massive threat to his plans.
The Royal Academy entrance examinations were scheduled to begin in only three days.
Wralq was secretly registering for the examination without informing anyone in House Corvus.
If either of the sisters were already associated with the academy, they could recognize inconsistencies in his behavior.
They might wonder how he had learned about the examination, why he was preparing so suddenly, or what he hoped to gain by keeping his plans secret.
The slightest mistake could unravel everything.
The rationale behind this secrecy stemmed from a delicate information barrier within the manor.
Every piece of information Wralq had received since his arrival had been filtered directly through Baroness Eleanor.
She had introduced him to the household, explained the basic rules of the estate, and provided him with the details he needed to survive his transition into House Corvus.
That meant Wralq had no innocent way to explain certain knowledge.
If he had requested to register for the Royal Academy entrance examination during his first few days, the Baroness and the two sisters—who were exceptionally perceptive—would immediately have questioned him.
How could an orphan who had arrived merely a day ago know the precise examination schedule of the Royal Academy?
The question alone would be enough to create suspicion.
If Wralq claimed that he had overheard the information from someone, the explanation would not save him.
Instead, he would instantly be labeled as a dishonest eavesdropper—someone who secretly listened to conversations that did not concern him.
For a new member of the household, that would be a fatal blow to his standing in House Corvus.
He could not afford to appear suspicious, overly ambitious, or deceptive before he had established even the thinnest layer of trust.
Therefore, registering in absolute secrecy was Wralq’s only path to maintaining a clean profile while avoiding the dangerous suspicions of the women in House Corvus.
He had to move carefully.
He had to ensure that no one discovered the truth before he was ready.
And above all, he had to remember that the academy examination was not merely a test of strength.
It was the first step in determining whether he could enter the world he had been preparing to infiltrate.
For now, Clara and Lyra remained obstacles.
They were troublesome, perceptive, and potentially dangerous.
But they were not yet enemies he could remove without consequence.
Wralq’s frown slowly faded, replaced by a cold, restrained calm.
He turned away from the door and moved toward his desk, where the books on military doctrine still lay open beneath the dim candlelight.
Mammon was right.
The snake had not yet struck.
There was no reason to startle it before he understood exactly how it moved.