Conference

The room was silent.

A circular table hovered in the center of a pitch-black conference chamber, its edges etched with faintly glowing arcane symbols. Above it, hundreds of holographic screens floated in the air—each displaying different angles, student profiles, evaluation graphs, mana signatures, and combat footage.

The atmosphere was thick with expectation.

The instructors' council was in session.

Today's topic: early stand-out students.

"Well then…"

The stillness broke with the voice of the Headmistress.

She sat at the highest seat, legs dangling from an oversized throne, cheeks puffed with mischief, smug expression firmly in place. A juice box was in hand, its straw clutched between her lips.

Anyone unfamiliar might have laughed. But no one here dared.

Lorelei Nox. SS+ Rank. Known as the "Destructioness." An ageless anomaly. A figure feared even in silence.

"So," she said, tilting her head, her voice playful but razor-sharp, "did any cadets catch your eye this year? Anything… fun?"

The first to answer was Professor Verres, a woman whose beauty turned heads even among the elite. With a flick of her fingers, she projected a video onto the central display.

"Kaleb Orion. Class A."

A duel played out—Kaleb against a senior during the mock trials.

His movements were refined. Each step deliberate. Each strike flowed like water, the rhythm unmistakable to any true swordsman.

"Estimated potential: S rank or higher," Verres said, arms folded. "Already proficient with a foundational sword art. Mana capacity and control outclass most of his peers. Officially ranked C for now, but that won't last."

Everyone nodded. Of course. Kaleb was the protagonist.

Predictable.

"Next," came a gravelly voice—Mr. Zic, head of the Magic Department. His robes shimmered faintly with embedded arcane runes.

"Alice Levantine. Elemental prodigy."

Three screens lit up—ice barriers, lightning arcs, and controlled bursts of fire. She handled them all simultaneously, with poise bordering on eerie.

"Triple affinity. Top-tier meditation metrics. Showing signs of rare mana resonance. Estimated potential: S at minimum. Currently listed as C- rank."

Approving murmurs followed. Some instructors grumbled about how ridiculous the incoming talent had become.

Then a more grounded voice entered the conversation—Professor Klaus, head of Combat Arts.

"Rydell Djin," he announced, displaying footage of a young man dancing with dual daggers.

"He held his own against Kaleb in simulated spars. Reflexes are borderline inhuman. His dagger form? I watched it three times—fluid, adaptive, clinical. C+ rank."

"Family training," someone muttered under their breath.

Lorelei twirled her straw, expression bored. "Yes, yes. Brilliant, gifted, destined for greatness. Stars among stars. Yawn."

Another screen lit up.

"Candice Midas. Combat and Support major," a voice offered.

Onscreen, Candice manipulated a simulated merchant into tanking market values during a field mission.

"She gamed the entire simulated economy," one instructor said. "Even outmaneuvered the economics faculty's projections. Crippled her opponent's resources during the team battle phase of the exam."

"She's Midas' daughter," another commented. "Saw her sweet-talking third-years yesterday."

"She terrifies me," someone muttered.

"Same," someone coughed.

Lorelei giggled. "A fun little fox, that one."

"And Keesha Valenstein," another instructor said, "hasn't even activated her bloodline yet and she's already shattering physical benchmarks."

"Wild as the records suggested," came another chuckle.

Then silence.

All eyes turned to the last instructor at the table.

Professor C.Javatte.

He looked more like a fashion icon than a teacher—shirt collar open, coat stylishly slung, posture as relaxed as his reputation suggested.

Without a word, he slid a single sheet of paper across the table.

A test. Scribbled in neat, unhurried handwriting.

At the top of the page:

Axel Calford.

"…Who?" someone asked flatly.

Avatte crossed his legs, reclining. "Class A. Rank 1509."

Lorelei raised an eyebrow. "A low-ranker in Class A?"

"Apparently. He answered only two questions on the foundational engineering exam… but they were the hardest ones."

The paper lit up as the system scanned it.

The first question involved designing a mana disruptor that disabled basic spells without consuming mana—an application of what engineers called the 'Magic Disruption Law.'

The second was a theoretical overhaul of energy conduits for elemental contraptions. The kind of question that stumped even graduate cadets.

"He left everything else blank," Avatte added. "But these two? Nearly flawless."

"But that would mean—" someone began.

"He didn't guess. Didn't memorize. He understood the theory. And left the rest blank deliberately."

Lorelei's smile curved wider. Her eyes twinkled.

"An anomaly, hmm?"

"His file says he has no usable mana," another instructor pointed out.

"Correct," Avatte confirmed. "He suffers from mana leakage. His circuit pathways are fractured. He can't even perform basic casting."

"Yet he grasps mana mechanics at this level?"

"Indeed. It's not just rare. It's unnatural."

Lorelei hummed, her interest visibly piqued.

"Stars, prodigies, and heiresses," she mused, sipping from her straw. "But a little goblin hiding in plain sight?"

She laughed, high and gleeful.

"I think this one will be very fun to watch."

---

Meanwhile, in my dorm…

I sneezed.

"…Am I being talked about?" I muttered, rubbing my nose.

Ruby hovered nearby in drone form, her small screen blinking with text.

> Master, your temperature is normal. You might be allergic to attention.

"Fair."

I glanced toward the desk. My twin pistols, Luna and Eclipse, sat there. Their soft glow pulsed in sync now. Ruby had started syncing with them—transferring data, integrating circuitry.

Outside the window, students clustered in packs. Powerhouses finding powerhouses. Social circles forming fast.

And me?

I remained exactly where I wanted to be—nestled in my own quiet corner. Ignored. Unnoticed.

And honestly, kind of grateful.

In a world full of stars, it wasn't bad being the moon.