A Golden Generation of Headaches
Strange guys everywhere… “Yeah. All that in just two days.”
The Continental Academy principal, Ludwig Rich, let out a wry chuckle. From the moment he’d glanced at the list of incoming freshmen, he’d anticipated a level of chaos incomparable to last year. But as always, there was a world of difference between expecting something and actually dealing with it.
And amid all that, one completely unexpected name popped up.
Abel Rothschild, was it? A freshman from the Ascal Kingdom. Ludwig, being from the Empire, had little interest in foreign affairs. Even so, he knew the Rothschild name to some degree—thanks to Lumine, who was entering her third year. She was a light ability user specialized in pure light manipulation, one of the rarest kinds. The Church had even scouted her before graduation. A brilliant talent. A student with a promising future.
And Abel was her little brother.
“A freshman objecting to the entrance ceremony is one thing, but charging straight at the seniors? That’s a first.”
“The rivalry between the Ragem Kingdom and the Ascal Kingdom is infamous, isn’t it? And young folks’ bravado always exceeds imagination, Principal.”
“If we in our forties—not even fifty yet—talk like that, we’ll sound ancient. Cut it out.”
Once physical aging sets in, an ability user’s power declines rapidly. The body can be maintained through effort, but abilities can’t. Eventually, a gap forms that talent and experience alone can’t fill.
That’s why professors averaged in their mid-to-late thirties. High-ranking academy staff who’d stepped back from teaching into administration were usually in their forties or older. Ludwig was principal, sure, but physically he was still in his prime at forty. His ability’s potency had waned, though, so he’d shifted to administrative duties.
“And it gets worse. The sons of Master Phoenix and Master Sparrow went at it full throttle?”
“The entrance gate’s a mess because of it. We estimate at least three days for repairs. And that Abel fellow you mentioned stepped in to mediate.”
“From the report, it looks less like mediation and more like he wanted in on the fun…”
His head was starting to throb. He’d felt a chill down his spine when the Third Prince arrived, and his unease had come true. The sons of the two pinnacle elemental ability users. And now, looking out, there were the twin duchesses from the northern Winter Duchy and the Republic Prime Minister’s son from the south, who’d all chosen to enroll. And that was the trimmed-down list. Limiting it to prestigious families—not heads of state—still yielded double digits.
Professors unaware of the full picture would be thrilled to teach heirs from renowned houses. A chance to become their mentor? They’d give it their all. No complaints there. Nothing wrong with it. If Ludwig were still teaching, he’d be just as excited, mulling over what wisdom to impart.
But he’d stepped away from direct instruction. Now he handled administration as principal. Yeah, administration. Sitting at a desk all day might make it seem like he wasn’t working, but it was a thankless job drowning in tedious tasks. In situations like this, his heart raced with dread over what might happen next. When incidents erupted, he’d be running around like a dog with its tail on fire, trying to clean up the mess.
“Outsiders are already calling this academy’s class the Golden Generation.”
“Fitting. Their talents are exceptional, and the incidents they cause are equally overwhelming—for has-beens like us, anyway.”
“Where’d the guy go who just said not to make him feel old?”
Half-listening to his secretary’s nagging, the principal turned his gaze out the window. A feeling was creeping in. Starting this semester, a massive upheaval was about to hit the academy.
“Today’s the freshmen power measurement, right?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve staffed enough people just in case?”
“Of course. Double the usual.”
“Double it again.”
“From here?”
I can’t shake this anxiety. The secretary considered arguing but ultimately obeyed his superior. He agreed these freshmen were unpredictable wild cards.
To enroll in the Continental Academy, one needed the examiners’ verification. What exactly was their ability? Could they control it? Did they have growth potential? Five examiners observed meticulously, and a majority vote was required for admission.
Once enrolled, freshmen faced further tests. The initial exam checked eligibility; now came competitions to rank them. The first was power measurement—gauging the raw limits of their abilities. Simple, yet crucially important.
For the academy, it revealed a student’s potential. For the student, their boundaries.
“Haa… haa…”
“That’s enough, I think. Seria Frijian.”
“Just one more time? Please?”
Professor Ray, in charge of measurements, pondered briefly. Common enough. Freshmen who thought highly of their abilities often balked at low readings. Some challenged the device; most begged for one redo. It was the professor’s job to distinguish those who’d improve from those who wouldn’t.
In that regard, this Seria girl won’t change much, no matter how I look at it…
She wasn’t stubbornly denying reality out of arrogance. Biting her lip at the results, she seemed aware of her level. Still asking for another shot? Pure earnest desire to give her all one more time.
“Fine. This is your last chance, Seria. No more after this. Remember, you’re eating into the next students’ time.”
“Thank you!”
With permission, Seria refocused and manifested her ability. Tiny flames flickered around her—like fireflies or windborne embers. She launched them at the measurement device. Plenty in number, but each too weak. Nor could she pivot to other uses easily. Pure fire—that was Seria’s ability in full. Objectively, her admission had been borderline.
“Stop. That’s it.”
At Professor Ray’s command, Seria collapsed in place, drained. Her output shouldn’t have exhausted her that much. In power and sustainment, she ranked low.
“Good work, Seria. Results by end of week. You pushed hard—rest up today.”
“Yes…”
Her slumped shoulders were pitiful, but what could he do? Academy professors couldn’t be like doting parents, offering blind faith and cheers. Cold realism was key. Ability users were national prides—and weapons. Useful ones got pampered; useless ones discarded.
Lucky to have a professor gig. Once-hot ability users grew ambiguous with age. If from nobility, maybe fine—but those risen by awakening plummeted when power faded.
Kingdoms, Empire included, built the academy for their gain. Yet veteran staff pondered how to aid juniors. Loyalty to nation, sure, but still.
I hope they improve here and thrive out there.
Fetching the next student, Professor Ray reflected on his group. Seria wasn’t the outlier. Most freshmen were average. Entry meant decent ability—but academy competition was another league. Not disappointing, just… freshmen. Most self-trained till now. Gaps expected. Here, they’d learn from others, network, grow. Nations gained stronger users; students escaped frog-in-well; veterans got paid. Win-win.
Though the Imperial Prince was a different story.
Others gritted teeth for max effort. The Third Prince? Opposite. Shadow manipulation with materialization? Elite control. Power couldn’t be weak. Yet Kalligo dialed it back—above average, but avoiding spotlight. Like he hated the buzz.
He finished moderately and left. Understandable. Ability user and prince. Palace life demanded it. But with this freshman lineup? Quiet impossible.
“Abel Rothschild.”
Next. Same kingdom as Seria. Lumine’s brother.
“Here.”
“Follow me.”
Examiners’ report: swordsmanship and Physical Enhancement. Adjust device accordingly and start.
Professor Ray led Abel into the test room.
“See the device ahead?”
“Yes, Professor.”
“Simple. Hit it with your maximum output. Sword swing or bare body—your call.”
“Sword.”
“Good. Begin.”
Blue light enveloped the device; Ray stepped back. Seria had been underwhelming. Kalligo deflating. What about this Abel? Bold enough to challenge seniors…
“Hup!”
“Uh.”
Wait, Abel—hold on—
Piiing!
Kwaaang!!
“Aigoo.”
A few hours later, Principal Ludwig toppled backward.