CHAPTER 20: SELENA VEYLAN’S

Chapter 20 – Selena Veylan’s

The grasslands stretched endlessly before her eyes, a sea of green blades that bent and swayed beneath the breath of morning wind. From a distance, it looked like a restless ocean, alive with movement, whispering with secrets. The faint cries of beasts echoed faintly across the plains, blending into the constant hum of cicadas, the rustle of leaves, and the low hiss of wind scraping across the tall grass.

Selena Veylan stood at the center of it all is an island of fragile stillness in a world that refused to stop moving. Her once elegant figure, known to draw stares in every ballroom of the capital, was battered and stained. The crisp white and violet uniform of the Academy clung to her body in tatters, slashed at the seams, streaked with dirt and blood. Her pale porcelain skin bore smudges of grime, cuts like cruel scratches of nature’s indifference.

In her trembling hand, the drager—her short dagger of royal make, etched with a crest only the Veylans could wield—hung low, its blade dripping faint streaks of black luminescence. The shadows coiled around it, fading slowly into nothingness, remnants of the affinity that had kept her alive through this nightmare.

Before her lay the dissolving corpses of the plains-beasts, their monstrous bodies breaking apart into glowing motes of light. Each fragment scattered into the wind, as though even death here was fleeting, a mere illusion granted by the Academy’s trial system.

"Haa... haa..."

Her breaths tore out of her lungs in sharp gasps, her chest heaving violently as if each intake of air burned. Her knees trembled beneath her, and only by leaning on the drager did she keep herself upright. Her mana core throbbed in her abdomen, aching as if it had been twisted dry, wrung past its limits.

The last of the F-rank monsters had fallen. Victory should have meant pride—yet no triumph swelled in her chest. Only emptiness, gnawing and bitter.

Her thoughts wandered despite her effort to stay alert.

Yesterday... they praised me as a prodigy. Today... I can barely stand. This trial... it doesn’t spare even those born of royal blood.

She bit her lip hard enough to taste iron. Pride pressed down on her shoulders as heavily as fatigue. For an entire night she had not slept—eyes straining wide in the dark, her blade clutched so tight her fingers numbed. Every rustle of grass, every distant howl, had kept her spine rigid.

I cannot falter. Father entrusted me with pride. A Veylan must never bow...

And yet, her eyelids fluttered with the weight of exhaustion. Her arms felt like lead. Her heart drummed painfully, each beat weaker than the last.

Then she heard it.

Rustle... rustle... crunch.

The rhythm of footsteps. Not the skittering scamper of beasts. No. Heavier. Deliberate. Human.

Her dulled senses sharpened like honed steel. Adrenaline surged into her veins, forcing her body into focus. She raised her drager, her stance instinctive despite trembling muscles. Her violet eyes narrowed at the shifting shadows between the distant trees.

They emerged one by one. Six of them.

Young men, clad in the Academy’s uniform. Each bore weapons gleaming faintly under the morning sun. Their postures were firm, their eyes grim and resolved.

Selena’s heartbeat quickened.

"Candidates..." she muttered under her breath.

The tallest among them stepped forward. He brushed back his brown hair with the ease of a noble raised to make gestures look effortless. A smile curled across his lips—polite, practiced. He bowed, low enough to signal respect, but not so low it lacked calculation.

"Princess Selena," he greeted smoothly. "It is an honor to finally meet you. I am Rero Cassin, son of Viscount Heman Cassin."

Her blade did not lower. Her back was straight despite the weariness threatening to break it. Her voice carried command, sharp even in exhaustion.

"...State your business."

Rero’s smile never faltered, though his eyes gleamed with sharper intent.

"With due respect, we don’t wish for conflict. But here, in the Academy, there is no royalty. No noble titles. Only cadets."

Another boy sneered, stepping forward. His sword glinted as he raised it slightly. His eyes burned into her with raw ambition.

"And if we want to climb the ranks... we must cut down even the highest. Be prepared, Princess."

Her grip tightened on her drager. Her chest tightened.

So... they’ve come for points.

Selena (low, biting):

"...You mistake mercy for weakness."

Candidate 4 mocking said from behind

"Then show us your strength—if you have any left."

The air grows taut. Selena steadies herself, though her knees shake. Her blade lowers slightly, angled for defense

Selena with icy, commanding said

"Very well. Come, then. Let’s see if ambition alone can cut through a Veylan."

The boys exchange smirks. One lunges forward, sword flashing toward her throat. Selena twists to evade her trial for survival beginning in earnest.

The air trembled. Without another word, one of the boys lunged—his sword cutting through the air toward her neck.

Selena twisted, her body moving on instinct. The blade whistled past, missing her by inches. But then—

Crack!

The ground erupted. Vines burst from the earth like snakes, wrapping around her ankle with vicious strength.

Her eyes widened.

"Magic—!"

She followed the energy’s trail. Rero stood with one hand extended, faint brown light pooling in his palm.

[Vine Warp]... Gray rank Skill

’So he was a mage with Earth Affinity’

Her jaw clenched. She slashed downward, the drager’s shadow-imbued edge slicing clean through the vines.

But the sword came down again. She bent low, the strike grazing her cheek, leaving behind a thin stinging cut.

I can’t waste time—!

She pushed off the ground, her body a blur as she leapt toward the trees. Branches swayed beneath her weight as she landed high, her figure balanced with desperate grace.

Relief barely brushed her chest when—

—Thwip!

"Ahhh!"

Pain tore through her arm. An arrow had pierced her left bicep, blood spraying across the bark. Agony flared white-hot, her fingers spasming as her body lost balance.

Crash!

She hit the ground hard, air driven from her lungs in a ragged gasp. Her drager slipped from her grasp, clattering into the grass.

Her vision blurred, stars dancing across her sight. She forced her hand to crawl toward the blade—but her arm shook violently, her strength draining with every drop of blood seeping into the soil.

The six boys advanced, their shadows long and looming, closing in like predators circling prey.

Her chest rose and fell with sharp, uneven gasps. Despair gnawed deep into her bones.

Is this... the end? I couldn’t even last three days... I, Selena Veylan, praised as a genius... reduced to prey.

The cruel echo of her father’s words rang in her mind.

You are among the strongest of your generation, Selena. Only heirs like Leon, Aiden, and Edric could rival you.

But here she was. Outmatched. Surrounded. Broken by commoners.

Her pride shattered. The truth pressed down harder than the pain in her arm.

One of them stepped forward, sword raised high. Sunlight caught on its edge. His smirk was twisted, cruel.

Selena’s eyes burned. She closed them, her body stiff, bracing for the cold bite of steel.

So this is it. My pride, my title... all meaningless.

The blade descended—

CLANG!!!

The cry of steel against steel exploded in her ears. Sparks burst before her closed eyes.

Her eyes snapped open.

And there—standing between her and death—was a figure.

Golden hair, ablaze under sunlight. Crimson eyes that burned with defiance. His sword locked against her attacker’s, unyielding, unmoving. His stance was a fortress, his aura a lion’s roar made flesh.

Leon Lionheart.

His voice was steady, reverberating with conviction.

"If you want a fight—" His blade surged forward, forcing the boy’s sword back, sparks scattering like fireflies. "—then fight me. But you will not touch her."

The six froze, instinct recoiling before the sheer weight of his presence.

Selena’s lips trembled. Her vision blurred—not from exhaustion this time, but from something she had never allowed herself to feel.

For the first time, Princess Selena Veylan felt what it meant to be—protected.

Her chest ached in an unfamiliar way, her pride yielding to a fragile warmth.

Her heart whispered softly, almost unbelieving:

"...Leon..."