"..."
Leo Archer looked at the familiar, burly man before him.
Unbelief shone in his eyes, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.
Raw pressure and malice threatened to force him to his knees in surrender to the man before him, as if only that would count as true respect. Forcing himself to endure the murderously intense gaze, he looked toward the youth. The youth still wore a banterful expression, while the burly man waited quietly behind him.
In that instant, he understood.
The master of the powerhouse before him was none other than this very youth.
An exceptionally young youth.
"Have you thought about how to answer me?"
Roland's voice drifted over once more.
It bore an undeniable tone of arrogance and authority.
"B-but..." Drenched in sweat, Leo Archer bowed his head, avoiding the youth's eyes as he spoke. "The Church of the Fallen Mother Goddess needs this item too. If I fail to complete the mission, I..."
He did not finish his sentence.
"You'll die, won't you?"
"..."
"Rest assured. Soon, they will send you new instructions."
The moment his words fell, the voice-transmission stone used by the Church of the Fallen Mother Goddess delivered a final message, consisting of just three words: Listen to him.
Short, yet decisive.
At this moment, Leo Archer only felt the sky over Romanvia growing even darker.
"Did you see?" Roland said with a chuckle.
Leo Archer hastily nodded. "I... I saw it, my lord."
...
After a friendly exchange, he successfully brought the man under his command.
Roland naturally knew Leo Archer would not remain docile. However, at this stage, the man was indeed a useful tool. For now, he would let him dance around for a bit. Once he obtained the "key" through his hands, the guy would lose all usefulness. When that time came, even if he died, no one would care about the survival of a mere merchant.
The next day, early morning.
The plaza of the Royal Academy.
A grand procession of students flooded the area.
The entrance of the St. Romanvia Imperial Academy was packed so tightly that not a drop of water could leak through. Philip clicked his tongue, feeling a faint sense of dread at the sight of the densely packed crowd in the plaza. He then looked at the calm Roland beside him and asked uncertainly, "Do you really think I can make it into the top five hundred among these thousands of people?"
From this moment on,
the main story officially began.
"Relax, there's no problem," Roland said with conviction. In the original plotline, Philip had managed to pass the entrance exam anyway. Now, under his guidance, Philip's swordsmanship had improved by leaps and bounds. Placing in the top five hundred might not be effortless, but it was certainly a sure thing. "Just the requirement of being Ranked will eliminate a huge portion of them."
"There's an evaluation like that?"
"What do you think? If all six thousand-plus of them were allowed into the subsequent assessments, how chaotic do you think the venue would become?"
"True. But why didn't they announce it in advance?"
Philip asked, somewhat puzzled.
"To build momentum and convey a message to the commoners."
"What message?"
Roland gave a mysterious smile. Under Philip's curious gaze, he slowly spoke, "A ladder for commoners to rise up—a signal that they can become powerhouses, or even new nobles."
Philip froze for a moment, finding it somewhat unbelievable.
The noble titles in the St. Romanvia Empire were entirely hereditary.
Unless a house suffered a shortage of heirs or faced complete extermination, a single title could easily be passed down for a thousand years without issue, to say nothing of creating new nobles. For roughly over a century, not a single new baron had been created in the St. Romanvia Empire; at most, existing nobles shuffled up and down ranks internally based on merit.
"Remember the Avalanche Domain we talked about earlier?"
"Of course. Word on the street said the Church of the Fallen Mother Goddess had infiltrated it." Recalling the details, Philip added, "Didn't you also say back then that some of the local nobles were very likely cooperating with the Church of the Fallen Mother Goddess?"
The moment he said that, Philip suddenly felt something was amiss.
"That's right. As I mentioned before, in remote places like that, small nobles such as barons and viscounts can't even nurture a single Fifth-Rank warrior. Why would they cooperate with the Church of the Fallen Mother Goddess? What do you think caused this—environment, bloodline, or other factors?"
"All of the above?"
Philip said, sounding uncertain.
"To put it simply, they've become useless. To the empire, they no longer hold any practical value and have even turned into parasites feeding off the empire. They can barely earn any military merit, yet they still enjoy noble privileges—even a baron holds the right to pardon a capital crime. Do you think... the empire's high command will allow them to continue existing?"
"Hss..."
Philip realized something, feeling a wave of lingering dread.
Roland continued with an expressionless face, "Besides, even if the upper echelons find it difficult to eradicate these nobles directly, why should those small nobles enjoy the same privileges as the great nobles who actually earn military merits? Just like your father and mine, who slay enemies on the front lines—what about them?"
"..."
Seeing Philip fall silent,
Roland nodded. It seemed the guy had grasped the core of the issue.
Likewise, this was the fundamental purpose behind the St. Romanvia Imperial Academy's major rule changes: purge those minor old nobles who possessed no military merit, then foster a batch of more valuable new nobles. The royal family would not even need to take the lead; the great nobles themselves would eagerly assist the crown in clearing out these parasites.
"What if the newly elevated nobles end up threatening the interests of the established great nobles?" Philip frowned and said, "The new nobles have talent, so wouldn't they inevitably pose a threat to the great nobles' interests in the future?"
"Quite the opposite. It's very difficult for new nobles to catch up to the growth rate of the great nobles. Just because new nobles have talent doesn't mean the great nobles lack it. Great nobles have even stronger talent and capability, plus vast resources. Their descendants—take you and me, for instance, or Clyde—which of us isn't a genius? Besides, the future you speak of is far too distant. They care much more about immediate gains."
In fact, even Thomas, whom Roland had competed with earlier, was also a genius.
Philip nodded.
"I see."
Only now did he fully see through the true nature of the Royal Academy's new rules.
This was a complete elevation initiative.
It was an open conspiracy—an overt scheme that could not be stopped even if foreseen.
Moreover, it was a wave ushering in a new era.
"Look, it's the Great Sage!"
When a voice shouted out,
the roaring crowd instantly quieted down.
Only heavy breathing remained in the surroundings.
An elderly man slowly walked onto the high platform. With white hair and beard, wearing a pair of glasses, he fit the public's expectations of an erudite scholar. Holding a staff, he gave it a gentle tap, and the whispering crowd went dead silent in an instant. The plaza holding over six thousand people suddenly became quiet enough to hear a pin drop.
"Silence."
A gentle voice echoed in everyone's ears.
The voice was not particularly loud, yet it carried immense weight.
The old man looked out at the packed plaza and nodded with satisfaction.
"I declare the entrance test of the St. Romanvia Imperial Academy officially open!"
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