<h4>Chapter 228: Professor Sylphania Jovienne Angélique</h4>


    Eleanor and the others went straight to sleep after returning to their dormitory. They were utterly exhausted... not physically, but spiritually. Death, near-death, and the gruesome sh with the Troll King had left their souls threadbare. Though the battlefield had been virtual, the pain, the loss, and the finality of death had felt real. Too real. Those who had fallen and awakened inside their capsules spoke of it as if they had been given a second life.


    They slept until afternoon without stirring.


    By noon, when the rest of the cadets streamed into the dining hall for lunch, the first thing that caught every eye was the towering digital disy beside the gate: the leaderboard of the Initiation Ceremony.


    Congrattions to the winners of the Initiation Ceremony:


    Rank–1: Ignatius Aurelius Emberfall (10156618), 2620 Points


    Rank–2: ra Noelle Luminelle (10156597), 2590 Points


    Rank–3: Eleanor Elizabeth Raynor (10156659), 2156 Points


    Rank–4: Raijin Astrape Stormrider (10156601), 2127 Points


    Rank–5: Jaciara Moara (10156681), 2086 Points


    Rank–6: Maíra Arara Neblina (10156660), 2056 Points


    Rank–7: Phoebe Juno Solstice (10156623), 2047 Points


    Rank–8: Joshua Cordillera (101566588), 2006 Points


    Rank–9: Kiara Raynor (10156672), 1996 Points


    Rank–10: Ophelia nc (10156675), 1976 Points


    The dining hall erupted into buzzing spection. Professors and cadets alike dissected the results with feverish excitement.


    Eleanor had once nned to remain inconspicuous by avoiding the top of the leaderboard. That n nowy in tatters. She and her team were the subject of every conversation, their battle with the Troll King overshadowing even Ignatius the fire dragon, crowned champion, or ra the fairy whose light magic had stunned all.


    It was not Eleanor’s third ce alone that caused the stir. It was the fact that every single member of her pack had secured a ce in the top ten. Never before in the Academy’s history had so many werewolves risen so high at once. Normally, one or two might scrape into the top ten, and some years not a single wolf ranked at all—as in Fiona Raynor’s own batch, many years ago. But this time, among the top ten, aside from two dragons and two fairies, six werewolves had imed their ce. All from the same team. And none of them had been bolstered by the presence of another race.


    Oblivious to the storm of attention they had ignited, Maíra woke in the evening and padded down to the dormitory canteen in search of food. When she paid the canteen manager, she froze. Her device disyed her total: 2066 points. The Academy had rewarded them.


    Grinning to herself, she bought extra food and made straight for Eleanor’s room. The knocking roused Eleanor from her slumber. When she heard of Maíra’s increase, she immediately checked her own status.


    [Status Screen]


    Cadet Name: Eleanor Elizabeth Raynor


    Cadet Number: 10156659


    Institution: Ascendance Academy of Midgard


    Race: Werewolf (Alpha)


    Bloodline: Mind Reaver (Level–1), Thunderbolt (Dormant)


    Cultivation Level: Awakened


    Academy Points: 2166


    Sure enough, the Academy had credited her with every point earned in the trial. With the daily ten free points added, the total felt weighty. Eleanor hadn’t felt this "rich" in a long time.


    "Nora, are there any changes in my stats, or anything new in the Academy after thepetition?" she asked silently.


    "No change in your personal stats," Nora replied, "but the Academy has opened an official forum for cadets. Some professors are present there too. The final results of the ceremony have already been posted. See for yourself."


    Eleanor walked over to the desk. She always left herptop open for Nora, granting ess to the Academy’s channels and servers. That way, the spirit could gather information with ease.


    Guided by Nora, she found the new forum... a shortcut had already been ced neatly on the desktop.


    No sign-up was needed; the system recognised her instantly through herptop and cadet key. At the top was a single post: "Final Winners of the Initiation Ceremony!"


    Eleanor clicked through. The list was identical to what she had seen on the dining hall disy. She studied the numbers more closely this time. The gap between the first two and the rest of them was staggering. Dragons and fairies had crushed thepetition. But from her own third-ce position downwards, the spread was razor-thin. One slip, one mistake, and anyone could have tumbled out of the top ten entirely.


    "It looks like our strategy of amassing points by killing orcs paid off," Eleanor murmured.


    Scrolling further, she opened thements.


    Some posts offered congrattions. Others suggested her team had been favoured because they were all werewolves. A few used the Academy of tampering with the final scores. The usual noise, bickering, and conspiracy theory... like any social tform.


    Eleanor sighed. "They’ve managed to turn the Academy’s forum into social media in a single afternoon," she muttered. She sighed again, passed theptop to Maíra, and added, "Go on, have a look... you’ll enjoy the heated arguments. But don’t post anything under my ount, especially if you get worked up. And thanks for the snacks. I should probably stock some myself, just in case."


    She grabbed a packet of cookies, settled on the bed, and bit into one. Even the simplest food here had a surprising quality. As she savoured the taste, she asked Nora, "Did your exploration finish?"


    "For now," Nora answered. "But I suspect there’s more hidden within the Academy. Professors seem to use a separatework for their research. You should explore in person... start with the library. It opens after breakfast and remains open until dinner. I checked your routine: Basic Cultivation in the morning, then your major specialisation. Since youck elemental magic, you’ll need to choose abat style to fulfil the requirement. But... there’s also the Department of Mental Arts. It wasn’t introduced this term, though I suspect they’ll take interest in you once they learn about your bloodline."


    "Metal arts are for higher-level Ascendants," Eleanor said aloud, frowning. "Even if I learn a few techniques, I won’t be able to use them properly."


    "That is precisely why I want you to try," Nora pressed. "You’ll be awakened in Vanaheim, but you won’t return here immediately. The timeline is unclear... only that one month will pass. Even basic techniques could prove invaluable in such a ce. And don’t forget: you can learn instantly. If your body can perform it, you can master it."


    Eleanor thought for a moment, then nodded. "Fair point. I’ll visit them between sses. I’m also considering optional courses... advanced cultivation paths, maybe wilderness survival. Alchemy, Forging, Healing... I don’t have the qualifications for any of those."


    "Then let me suggest Formation Arts," Nora said with a hint of pride. "It requires precision and calction, which are my specialties. There’s a book on your shelf... Introduction to Formation Arts. Read it before you decide. You’ll only need one optional course to pass the term."


    Not long after, Maíra slipped out of the room, leaving Eleanor alone with the book. She opened it, and soon the room fell quiet, save for the soft turning of pages.


    ***


    After breakfast, all cadets gathered in a vast lecture theatre, a space so grand it easily housed all one hundred of them, with rows of seats still left empty.


    The lecture theatre itself was a masterpiece of architectural and acoustic design, a sanctum of learning that demanded reverence the moment one stepped inside. The seating unfurled in a sweeping crescent that embraced the central stage, ensuring no cadet’s view was ever obstructed. Each row rose in gentle tiers, so that even those at the very back looked down upon the lectern rather than over the heads of their peers.


    The chairs were no mere benches. They were high-backed, generously proportioned seats of polished dark wood, upholstered in navy-blue leather that exhaled a faint sigh when upied. Between each seat, a delicately carved writing tablet could be swung into ce for note-taking.


    At the centre of it ally the stage... a dais of honey-coloured wood that gleamed beneath the soft lighting. Upon it rested a single desk and a high-backed chair, crafted from the same rich wood as the cadet seats. The desk was bare save for a sleekptop, a lone piece of modernity in a room otherwise steeped in timeless tradition. Behind it, the entire back wall was a single screen, a vast canvas for maps, diagrams, or battle formations, crisp and clear for all to see.


    Light streamed from cleverly hidden orbs in the ceiling coves, casting the soft, neutral glow of a cloudy sky, banishing both shadow and eye strain.


    Some cadets marvelled at the theatre’s design; others whispered among themselves, while a few simply sat in nk silence. Then, the murmurs fell away as a woman entered.


    A beautiful, middle-aged figure strode to the front, a book and a tablet cradled in her hands. She moved with a grace that seemed less like walking and more like gliding, her regal indigo silk robes whispering against the polished floor. The fabric shimmered faintly, as though woven from starlight and moonlight, glowing softly with its own hidden radiance.


    Her hair cascaded in a waterfall of pale gold and silver, flowing like molten metal over her shoulders and down her back. The hood of the robe was ced gently behind, under her hair. Yet it was her face that held the cadets spellbound... not merely beautiful, but timeless. Her baster skin glowed faintly, as if lit from within. Her features bore both pride and sorrow, etched with the wisdom of ages. And her eyes... clear as a summer sky, yet unfathomable as the star-choked void... seemed to pierce each cadet where they sat.


    When she stopped before the desk, the simple furniture seemed transformed into a throne. She ignored theptop, the massive screen, all trappings of the room. Her attention fell wholly upon the cadets, and to each one it felt like a private gift.


    A hush fell, soplete that even the faint hum of the projector rang loud in the silence. The air itself seemed to grow charged, rich with the scent of ozone after a storm and the faint perfume of night-blooming flowers.


    "Good morning, ss. I am Professor Sylphania Jovienne Angélique. I will be teaching you Basic Cultivation."


    Her voice was low and musical, each word resonating with rity, as though whispered directly into the mind of every listener. The cadets blinked back into awareness, the spell broken, the room alive once more.