Ronan let out heavy breaths as he finished his last lap.

His lungs burned, legs ached, and sweat dripped steadily from his chin.

Conditioning.

Selene had made it clear this was only the beginning, the baseline she expected every S-Class student to meet without complaint.

This wasn’t too bad.

He glanced toward the four late arrivals still running their penalty laps. They had massive backpacks draped over their shoulders carrying an unknown amount of weight.

The entire class stood along the edge of the training field, watching.

Luca ran effortlessly at the front, his breathing steady, posture relaxed, as if he were taking a casual stroll through the Academy gardens.

His pale blue hair barely moved, and his expression remained indifferent despite the extra distance.

Seraphina Valon followed close behind. Her form was perfect. Sweat dampened her forehead, but her breathing stayed even. She carried herself with the same composed grace she always did.

Iris came third. She looked fine for the most part, though sweat beads ran down her face and her breathing had grown slightly uneven.

Then there was Grace.

She had stopped mid-lap, hands braced against her knees, chest heaving.

"Instructor Voss!" Grace called out between gasps. "This is cruel! I’m going to collapse! My legs are betraying me!"

Selene’s sharp gray eyes turned toward her without sympathy.

"Then collapse. The healers will revive you after class."

Grace straightened slightly, her face flushed and expression betrayed. "You’re supposed to be nurturing future leaders, not murdering them!"

"I am nurturing you. By teaching you that arriving late and blatantly lying to me has consequences."

Grace groaned dramatically and started jogging again, though her pace was more of a shuffle than a run.

She was dragging her feet rather than actually running at this point.

A few students chuckled.

Maybe she really is weak physically.

It wasn’t unbelievable.

Grace specialized in light magic, support spells, and whatever else the church taught her. Her role had never required raw endurance or close combat ability.

He wasn’t sure he would be much better in her position, anyway.

Ronan’s gaze shifted to Luca, who had already completed his penalty laps and now stood calmly beside Selene, waiting for the others to finish.

The protagonist had not broken a sweat.

Seraphina crossed the finish line next, her breathing controlled despite the extra distance. She nodded politely to Selene before moving to the side, and took off the backpack.

Iris followed shortly after, her expression wavering, but still composed. She said nothing, simply rejoining the class with her usual dignity intact.

Grace was still running.

Or more accurately, she was limping.

"I’m dying," she announced to no one in particular. "Tell my family I tried. Tell the Goddess I’m coming home." 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

Ronan heard a student boo at the bad joke.

Selene was not in the mood either.

"Miss Light. If you do not finish within the next minute, you will run double tomorrow."

Grace’s eyes widened in horror.

"That’s inhumane!"

"Fifty seconds."

Grace broke into a desperate sprint.

Her form was terrible, her breathing loud, her legs wobbling, but she somehow crossed the finish line with three seconds remaining before collapsing dramatically onto the grass.

"I made it," she gasped. "I’m a hero. Luca, remember me when you slay the demon king."

Selene stared down at her without expression.

"You barely met the minimum standard. Do not repeat this performance."

Grace gave a weak thumbs-up from the ground.

Selene moved on once Grace finally forced herself to her feet.

"Now that that is over, let’s move on. Weapon preference," she announced, scanning the class. "I need to know what you can use and what you cannot."

Students shifted.

Luca spoke immediately. "Sword."

Selene jotted it down without comment.

"Spear," said Jason Vrell.

"Bow," said another student.

"Dual daggers."

Selene worked down the line, recording preferences without any judgment. Most students gave clear answers, while a few hesitated before naming something practical.

When she reached Elara, Selene paused. "And you?"

"Gauntlets," Elara said firmly.

Selene nodded, marking it down, then moved to Ronan.

He had not thought about this beforehand.

"Magic," he said after a brief pause. "I don’t have weapon experience."

Selene’s sharp gaze flicked toward him.

"That won’t do." She crossed her arms. "Magic users still need a fallback. Choose something."

Ronan considered briefly. A spear needed reach and strength he did not have. Daggers required reflexes. Axes were absurd.

"Sword," he said.

It was generic enough not to draw questions, simple enough to learn basics, and common enough that most instructors could teach it.

He wasn’t trying to be particularly unique either, just efficient.

Selene stepped toward a rack along the wall and tossed him a wooden training sword without ceremony.

Ronan caught it cleanly, feeling the weight settle into his palm.

The weight was decent. Not heavy, not light. The grip fit comfortably, and the blade’s length felt manageable despite his current weakness.

Not terrible.

If he had to carry a weapon anyway, learning sword basics might actually prove useful.

Selene finished recording the remaining preferences, then turned back toward the class.

"Sparring pairs are next. I’ll match by weapon type where possible."

She began calling names.

"Luca. Jason."

Both stepped forward.

"Elara Lockhart. Iris Lockhart."

Elara’s jaw tightened slightly, but she said nothing. Iris’s expression remained cold and unreadable.

Iris uses a rapier. That’ll be interesting.

"Freya Lockhart. Irene Ashbourne."

Selene continued pairing students efficiently, matching spears together, daggers together, and bow users with staff wielders for adaptability training.

Finally, she reached Ronan’s name.

"Ronan Ashbourne."

He straightened slightly.

Selene glanced toward the remaining unpaired students, then pointed.

"Princess Seraphina Valon."

Ronan blinked.

A beautiful girl with long blonde hair stepped forward gracefully. She wore the Academy’s standard training uniform, but somehow it looked more refined on her. Her posture was upright, elegant, and composed, her expression calm but attentive.

Ronan studied her briefly.

She carried herself like someone accustomed to being watched. Her mana flow felt controlled and steady.

The princess herself.

Seraphina extended her hand toward him, her movements polite but natural.

"Ronan," she said. "We meet again."