Chapter 3: The Royal Examination Begins

The Dawn of Judgment

The sky was still a deep indigo when I arrived at the Imperial Academy, its towering spires silhouetted against the first whispers of dawn. The air carried the crisp scent of morning dew, yet the world was already alive with anticipation.

The Royal Examination was no mere test. It was a battlefield—where legacies were forged, and failures were cast aside.

For the noble heirs, it was the first step toward greatness.

For me?

It was retribution.

A chance to carve my name into history—to prove that the forgotten prince they had discarded was no longer shackled by the past.

Yet, as I stepped forward, I felt it.

The eyes.

The whispers.

The weight of their indifference.

> "Kael Ardent? He's actually here?"

"The cursed prince dares to compete?"

"Does he not understand his place?"

A slow, amused smirk tugged at my lips. They had no idea.

Beneath my sleeve, the Cursed Mark pulsed.

Last night had changed me.

Power coiled beneath my skin, restless and untamed.

For the first time since awakening in this world... I felt ready.

---

The Arrival of the Elite

The gates of the examination grounds groaned open, and the atmosphere shifted. A hush swept through the gathered crowd.

The prodigies had arrived.

Lucian Devereux came first—heir to House Devereux, second only to the royal lineage. Clad in silver armor, he moved with effortless confidence, golden eyes sharp with purpose. There was no arrogance in his gaze, only the certainty of a man who knew his strength.

Then, Eleanor Vael, daughter of the High Priestess. Silken silver hair cascaded down her back, catching the light like spun moonlight. She moved with an ethereal grace, the scent of sacred lilies trailing in her wake, a silent testament to the gods who favored her.

And then, there was Damien Crowe.

The black-clad son of a notorious house, infamous for its dealings in forbidden magic. His blood-red eyes flickered with amusement as he surveyed the crowd, a predator lurking in plain sight. He did not exude dominance like the others. His presence was unsettling.

The whispers spread like wildfire.

> "These are the ones who will lead the next era."

"The future rulers, the untouchable elite."

And then there was me.

The abandoned prince.

The one they had already written off.

I felt their gazes—pitying, dismissive, contemptuous.

> "Why is he even here?"

"He should've disappeared quietly."

"A cursed one in the examination? How laughable."

My fingers curled into a fist, but anger did not come.

Only a cold, unwavering resolve.

They had no idea what I had become.

---

The Trial of Strength

A pillar of enchanted stone stood at the heart of the arena, inscribed with ancient runes.

The test was simple.

One strike.

The force of impact would determine our rank.

The strongest would ascend.

The weakest? Forgotten.

Lucian stepped forward first.

He unsheathed his sword—its golden edge humming with divine energy. A single, fluid strike. The pillar trembled, a deep golden mark burning itself into the stone.

Rank: A+.

The crowd roared.

Next came Eleanor.

She closed her eyes, lips parting in silent prayer. Then, with a touch, radiant flames surged forth, leaving divine scorch marks in their wake.

Rank: A.

More cheers. More admiration.

Then, Damien.

No blade. No stance. Just a slow lift of his hand.

A pulse of void energy rippled outward. Tendrils of darkness coiled around the pillar, sinking into the stone like a thousand unseen fangs. The surface cracked—deep, jagged fractures splitting across its structure.

Rank: A-.

Murmurs spread through the crowd.

> "Even the bastard of the Crowe family ranks high..."

"Of course. He's a monster in human skin."

And then, my turn.

Silence fell.

The whispers stopped.

All eyes turned to me—expectant, doubtful, waiting for my inevitable failure.

I stepped forward.

Placed my palm against the pillar.

And felt the Mark awaken.

A pulse of raw, unfiltered power coursed through my veins.

I struck.

The moment my hand met the stone, the world seemed to shatter.

A violent surge of crimson-black energy erupted, devouring the pillar in a vortex of destruction.

A deafening crack split the air.

When the dust settled—

The pillar was gone.

Not fractured. Not damaged.

Destroyed.

A stunned silence stretched across the arena.

The ranking crystal flickered, as if hesitant. Then—

Rank: S.

---

The Silence of Disbelief

For a moment, no one moved.

No one spoke.

Then—

A single, disbelieving whisper.

> "An S-Rank?"

"Impossible..."

"Wasn't he supposed to be weak?"

Even the examination proctors hesitated, their expressions wavering between shock and uncertainty.

Lucian's face remained unreadable, but his grip on his sword tightened.

Eleanor's divine aura flickered—just for an instant.

And Damien?

He simply smirked, crimson eyes gleaming with intrigue.

But before anyone could react further, a voice rang out from the highest balcony.

"Not bad, little brother."

I stiffened.

A figure leaned lazily against the railing, clad in royal finery, exuding effortless dominance.

Crown Prince Adrian Ardent.

The empire's golden son.

The one they all revered.

His golden eyes—so much like our father's—held something I had never seen before.

Not mockery. Not disdain.

Amusement.

Recognition.

"It seems you've finally decided to stop crawling."

The words were not a taunt.

They were an acknowledgment.

One he had never given me before.

But I did not care for his approval.

This was not about him.

This was my path.

And I had only just begun.