The Inaugural Ball
Enviable! One month. That's absolutely not a long time. It's incredibly short. Yet the Continental Academy had wrapped everything up in that single month. There wasn't a trace of the attack anywhere on the premises. They couldn't erase everything, of course. A few empty spots still lingered. But they wouldn't dwell in gloom forever. For ability users, death was never a distant tale.
That was precisely why, even with this somewhat sudden event, everyone took it in stride.
"A ball, you say?"
Of course, there were those like Abel who didn't get it at all.
"No, a ball out of nowhere? Has there ever been anything like this, Kalligo?"
"No. At least not until last year—there weren't any balls at all, Abel. But you know the situation we're in. This is the time to show the world we're still standing strong."
The Empire and the various nations had poured their efforts into shaping perceptions of the Continental Academy—and its necessity. They'd made it so every ability user had to come here. As if skipping it branded you a failure. It might seem excessive, but it was necessary. Ability users were uncontrollable by nature; they saw themselves as special, viewing the world differently. And the academy fixed that.
In truth, most of the current biggest headaches—the Ability Supremacists—were those who couldn't adapt here, dropped out midway, or caused trouble even after graduating. The academy taught and corrected them. Even if that failed, at least it flagged the dangerous ones early for monitoring.
Then the Continental Academy got attacked and suffered massive losses. Ability users died. If that shook the order, no nation or individual would send their ability users here anymore. Ignorance breeds fear, and fear escalates to war.
"You know what a war with ability users looks like, don't you, Abel?"
"Of course."
"It's not some clash of swords and a few spells before calling a truce and heading home. The moment ability users get involved, it's the prelude to annihilation."
That's why the Continental Academy—the bulwark against that—had to return to normal. This place taught nations' interests, checks between ability users, fears, and more. It was vital.
"...Even so, a ball feels off. Wouldn't a unity tournament be better?"
"A unity tournament with ability users gathered?"
"Yeah. Like training together, using abilities as a team, that vibe."
"You want to blow up the academy we just barely fixed? This time it'd be total destruction, not half."
Hm. Fair point. With Abel stumped, Kalligo added,
"You know our students come from every nation. Unity's great, but half-baked unity backfires. Better to target the fact that most are nobles anyway."
"...Agreed. But the commoner students?"
"They'll welcome it—maybe even more. National balls are nobles-only. But here? As long as you're academy-affiliated, noble or commoner, everyone's invited."
As expected of a prince. He knew the nuances far better than Abel. Maybe that was his survival strategy—not honing ability as an ability user, but reading situations as the crown prince's brother to dodge crises.
"See, Abel? You're a noble who doesn't act like one."
"Hey, pyro. You know it's rude for an Empire noble to say that to a foreign noble, right?"
"Here, nationality and nobility don't matter—we're all students. So take it as casual talk. And Abel's not narrow-minded like you, hydro."
Meanwhile, Flam and Portus bickered over ball outfits they'd brought for Abel's opinion. Hard to tell if this was a men's lounge or changing room anymore.
"So, Abel. Why hate the ball so much?"
"When did I say I hated it?"
"No, Kalligo, that's not it—but he's been rejecting it since you mentioned it. Like he can't dance or something."
"That's what makes it rude, you pyro bastard. Calling a foreign noble 'not noble-like,' saying he can't dance— that's provocation if it's not. Right, Rel?"
"Indeed. In our southern lands, this is clear dishonor."
Abel couldn't spit out the honest truth amid those words. To them, balls were essential social staples: attend, dance, mingle with nobles, gather intel. The problem? Not for Abel.
He'd never gone near one as a kid. Why waste time there when he could skip it? The Rothschilds weren't a house obligated to attend, so his parents never pushed their youngest. Naturally, he couldn't dance. Nobles' refinement? He'd invested that time in ability training instead.
In other words, Flam's words weren't rude—they were dead-on facts.
"Apologize quick, pyro."
"Apologize, Flam."
"Urgh. Sorry, Abel. No malice, you know that?"
A ball. Dancing. Totally unforeseen.
Abel agonized inwardly. Before, he'd have said, Sure, I'm out. But an academy ball—the first ever? Different story. His gut said first-time events always sparked incidents, good or bad. Anywhere else, maybe skip—but academy? Better be there.
Can't go like this, though.
Looking like a fool at the ball shamed Ascal Kingdom and the Rothschilds—his precious family. If doing it, do it right. But first, learn to dance.
"...So you came to me?"
Seria confirmed, flustered.
"Yes, Seria."
"Wha— What about the Winter Duchy princesses?"
"Ah. Well. Felt like you'd be better than those two."
Not because he'd fled lest they cling—he hadn't. Anyway.
Abel asked again: Could she teach him to dance? If not, he'd ask elsewhere.
"I'm no pro, but I know the basics—parents taught me."
"Great news. Please, then, Seria."
Dancing was just body movement. Abel trusted his body—years of grueling training, plus he'd always heard he had a good build.
But practice shattered that illusion.
"No, Abel—not the feet, the music. Feet follow the rhythm."
Dancing this hard? Just move decently, done? So complex?
For the first time struggling with movement, Abel flailed.
"Too stiff here. And my hand's not a sword—grip gentler? Feels like it'll snap...!"
Seria's flushed hand, gripped so tight it stayed red. Secret: her beaming smiles each time Abel stroked it apologetically.
"Slowly. Too fast. No need to tense. Worst case, dance with me all night at the ball?"
Amid the chaos, Seria slyly claimed her spot. Irshu and Tarshu would have shut it down—but they weren't here.
So Abel's casual Sure was inevitable.
Somewhere in the Empire. A secret underground lair known to few.
"A ball. Perfect opportunity."
"Feasible? Supremacists jumped first—academy's on double alert. Nearly exposed our uprising too."
"No. Use this chance. Empire's focus shifted fully to Supremacists. Our guard's way down."
The Empire was the continent's largest—not born that way. It absorbed kingdoms through various means. Including Crea Kingdom, annexed by force twenty years ago.
Most royals and nobles integrated as Empire citizens. But acceptance bred resistance.
"First-ever ball. Gaps will appear. Time to show we're alive—and fighting hard."
Crea Kingdom revivalists. After Supremacists, now they stirred.
Target: ever the Continental Academy itself.