Chapter 5

Chapter 5 – The Marshal’s Eyes

Julien stood in front of the obsidian double doors that led to the restricted evaluation chamber, his heart pounding behind the standard-issue academy uniform. The notification he’d received just hours ago still glowed in the corner of his vision:

> “Private Evaluation Request – Marshal Veldaric Hill. Attendance: Mandatory.”

He hadn’t told anyone. Not even Ellis, his closest seatmate in the theory wing. The name “Hill” was too heavy—too imperial, too violent. A man like that didn’t summon students lightly.

The doors opened without a sound.

Inside, the chamber was sterile, yet beautiful. A circular space lined with transparent crystal, panels of magical conduits pulsing dimly along the walls. It was designed for the containment of high-level constructs. Not interviews.

Julien stepped inside.

And then—he saw him.

Marshal Veldaric Hill stood at the center of the room, towering, cloaked in the deep navy of the Empire’s highest military echelon. His cape was clipped at his shoulder with a silver dragon pin—the crest of the Hill family. His hair was black as stardust and swept back, revealing a sharply cut face, emotionless yet not void of interest. His eyes, a cold shade of alloy silver, locked onto Julien the moment he entered.

For a moment, Julien forgot how to breathe.

“State your designation,” Veldaric said.

His voice didn’t match his harsh reputation. It was deep but clean, like tempered steel.

Julien swallowed and bowed. “Julien Deton. First-year candidate, magical card engineering track.”

“Orphan. No genetic backing. Arrived from the Outskirts six weeks ago,” Veldaric said, folding his arms behind his back. “You scored in the top 1.4% of the simulation battle this morning. Do you know why that matters?”

Julien hesitated. “Because it was meant to test reaction speed, spell adaptability, and non-linear tactical input. I didn’t use standard patterns. I improvised.”

Veldaric moved closer. “You didn’t improvise. You predicted an AI override system that hasn’t even been released to the public.”

That made Julien stiffen.

He hadn't meant to do that. It had just... made sense. Like muscle memory. As if the cards whispered their deeper functions directly into his hand.

“I see,” Veldaric murmured, his gaze sharpening. “You don’t know how you did it either.”

Julien nodded slowly.

The marshal took another step forward, now just a pace away. His presence was overwhelming—commanding without effort, as if gravity itself bent toward him.

“Tell me something, Julien Deton.” Veldaric’s voice lowered, thoughtful. “Have you ever heard of ‘resonant cardmaking’?”

Julien blinked. “That’s a myth. A theory. No one has ever—”

“I’ve seen it once,” Veldaric interrupted. “Twenty years ago. A child who built a card that responded before he activated it. A weapon that loved its wielder.”

Julien’s throat went dry.

Veldaric’s eyes pierced him, searching for something beneath flesh and bone.

“You’re not an ordinary student,” he said. “You will report to me directly, beginning tomorrow. Every week. Your training, your testing—your development. You’ll be under my observation.”

Julien’s heart skipped. “But the academy—”

“I own the academy,” Veldaric said coldly. “You belong to me now.”

The words struck harder than Julien expected.

And stranger still—deep in his chest, something ancient and forgotten stirred. Not fear.

Recognition.

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