Inside the cafeteria, the nobles sat on one side of the hall, but unlike their usual arrogance, this time their heads were lowered, looking defeated and depressed. Of the 160 who had started, only 20 remained, all bearing serious injuries. Even the heirs had suffered in the battle.
In contrast, on the other side of the cafeteria, the commoners were ecstatic. Laughter, improvised toasts with glasses of water, shouts of victory. Everyone was celebrating—except for one.
Dixon remained silent, his gaze distant, caught between resignation and longing.
Taking advantage of the instructors' absence, William walked over and sat beside him.
"What's wrong, Dixon?" he asked calmly, not forcing a smile. "You look… dimmed. That's not like you, not after something like this."
Dixon didn't respond right away. He kept staring ahead, then lowered his head, sighed, and whispered:
"I was thinking about my brother."
William said nothing, giving him space to continue.
"He went through this too, you know? Years ago. But… he wasn't so lucky," he added with a bitter grimace. "His group was the first to fall."
"He fell? You mean he died?" William asked, lowering his voice.
"I don't know. They never told me," Dixon replied, averting his eyes. "All I know is, after that, his life changed. He said he had seen hell… but he never told me exactly what happened. He just kept repeating that failing this test was worse than dying."
"You never saw him again?"
"No. After that visit, he vanished," Dixon said, clenching his fists on the table. "They told us he was still in the army, and every month ten gold coins arrive for my father. I guess he's alive… or he did something brave enough to be paid for his death."
"And that's why you're here?"
Dixon nodded.
"I want to find him, Will. To know if he's still breathing… or at least where he's buried."
A brief silence fell between them. William looked at him with a mix of respect and sorrow. Then he asked:
"How did you find out about all this?"
"He told me in pieces," said Dixon. "Each year, he had a few days off and would come home. On his last visit, he told me there would be a battle—a real trial—and if you did well, you'd get a high-ranking position in the army. But if not… they'd send you on a suicide mission, or to some weird experiments. That's what he'd heard from other recruits."
"Shit…" William muttered. "And we had no clue…"
"Yeah, well," Dixon replied with a faint, forced smile. "Now you do. But hey, let's change the subject. We survived, right? That's what matters right now."
The conversation lightened after that. They congratulated each other with restrained laughter, joked about the wounds they had received, and even tried to guess which instructor would be the first to return.
One of their classmates approached and asked:
"Hey, Will! Did you know anything about this? Aurus didn't tell you?"
William shook his head.
"Not a word. I'm just as fucking surprised as you. If Aurus knew anything, he kept it to himself."
"Of course… that old man's full of secrets," muttered another, chuckling. "Bet he was sipping tea in some quiet room while we almost died."
William smiled, but his eyes never left Dixon. Something about his story left a bitter taste. A dark premonition was beginning to form in his chest.
As William drifted in thought, the cafeteria fell into sudden, unnatural silence. The laughter vanished, conversations died, and all eyes turned to the entrance.
Jayce and Anthon had crossed the threshold. Their faces were serious, firm, as if they carried a grave message. Behind them, a crowd began to enter: instructors, military personnel, and others no one quite recognized, clad in dark armor and expressionless faces.
Anthon stepped into the center of the cafeteria. His voice boomed with authority.
"Commoners, behind your champions! Nobles, behind your warriors!"
The echo of his words bounced off the stone walls.
For a moment, no one moved. Then, as if responding to a primal instinct, the crowd separated. The nobles grouped together in one corner, supporting one another, heads bowed. The commoners walked proudly toward William, Dixon, Theo, and the others.
William stepped forward, his back straight, his eyes fixed on Anthon.
"What's going on?" he asked, voice steady.
Jayce was the one who answered, stepping forward to face both groups.
"You have passed the trial," he said solemnly. "You have proven your worth, your strength, and your iron will. From this day forward, your fates will change forever."
A murmur swept through the hall. Tense faces filled with anticipation.
"What exactly does that mean?" Cedric asked, raising his voice.
"It means the next few days will determine your future," Jayce explained. "You'll be evaluated one by one—your talents, your character, your decisions. Those who qualify will be recruited… not by this city or any kingdom, but by something far more terrifying."
The word lingered in the air like a sentence.
"And those who don't?" Thom asked, swallowing hard.
Jayce was silent for a moment. Then he said:
"You, the commoners who do not qualify, will remain here, studying for five more years. After that, you'll have the opportunity to apply for a position within this city… or you'll start to learn how power is truly divided."
William exchanged glances with his companions. None backed down, none showed fear. The battle had changed them. They were no longer the same boys who had entered the academy.
Then Commander Jayce's aura shifted abruptly. The temperature dropped completely, and now only the nobles' breathing could be heard.
"Now, the losers," he said coldly, "as I'm sure you all know, will be stripped of their noble status and reduced to slaves."
Jayce's words hit the commoners like a bucket of ice water. Both aspiring knights and scholars froze in place. Shock was written all over their faces. They had just narrowly avoided a catastrophe. If it hadn't been for their victory in this battle, they would have been the ones degraded to slaves.