And up on a raised platform not far from them, a striking figure with vibrant red hair and eyes like burning flames stood watching the scene from above.
Aurt—the Imperial Crown Prince, and also one of the contestants in the tournament. His expression was calm and cool, as always. At this moment, he was quietly observing the excited laughter and energy of the underclassmen below.
As both a royal and a member of the Student Council, Aurt wasn't required to attend the exhibition. He had only dropped by to check on the progress of the other teams and was planning to leave soon. But what he hadn't expected… was to see a familiar face among the crowd.
"Didn't think they'd have the guts to join a competition like this at their age… Admirable courage," Aurt murmured, raising an eyebrow. His tone was casual, but the surprise in his eyes was clear.
Beside him stood a senior girl who was also a contestant. She giggled softly in agreement.
"Totally! Especially that short-haired blonde girl—she's adorable! The way she was bouncing around, she looked just like a little bunny. So full of energy!"
Aurt let out a quiet hum, eyes still on Serena.
"Energetic, sure... but still not quite on par with her brother."
"Huh? She has a brother?" The girl turned to him, blinking in surprise. "You know her brother? Wait, do I know him too? He sounds kinda handsome from the way you said that~"
Aurt turned his face away, looking as proud and aloof as ever, though there was a hint of impatience in his voice.
"You know him very well."
"Eh? Who? Come on, don't be so mysterious—I know too many people for you to be vague. Just say the name—"
"You wouldn't recognize it anyway," Aurt cut her off coldly, then turned and walked away with his hands behind his back, leaving the girl standing there, completely baffled.
"Wha? What's that supposed to mean? Why the secrecy…?"
——
"…So, did we mess up somewhere?" Aiden's mouth twitched as he glanced at the neighboring team's display—a blazing volcano and even a grand palace model crafted by sixth-year students. "Compared to theirs, doesn't our little thing look… a bit too humble?"
Elena looked down at their own project—a "floating machine" that fused artistic aesthetics with practical magitech. The design was smooth and minimalistic, nothing wrong on its own, but when placed next to those towering, intricate art pieces made by seniors…
Well, it felt like the kingdom of children had wandered into a land of giants.
"Eh…" Serena didn't seem too bothered. She glanced around the hall and gave a subtle smile of admiration. "Are we… really the youngest group here?"
"Yes," Lucien replied calmly, his red eyes sweeping across the venue. "Lowest average year level, and the least competition experience."
"Thanks for the stab," Aiden sniffled.
"Don't panic." Serena patted Aiden's shoulder with a smile as bright as sunshine. "We still have our speech ace."
"Who?" Aiden and Elena asked in unison.
Serena raised her hand without hesitation and pointed at someone. "Him."
All three of them turned their heads toward Lucien, who stood silently nearby, calm and cool—someone who seemed to have nothing to do with "eloquence."
Silence.
Lucien frowned slightly, confused. "…Me?"
A moment later—
"You mean him?" Elena raised an eyebrow doubtfully. "But weren't you the one who came up with the initial concept? Shouldn't you be the one presenting?"
"That's true," Serena nodded, her smile unwavering. "But I believe Lucien is better suited for the explanation. I may have led the early design, but during the actual building process, Lucien repeatedly pointed out critical details we missed and proposed many improvements."
She turned to look at Lucien, her eyes filled with unhidden trust and appreciation. "He always catches those subtle mechanical problems no one else notices. That kind of structural intuition—I think that's the most valuable part of our project."
"Even the initial suggestion to integrate magical gravitational balance—that was his idea. So I believe he's the best one to present it."
Aiden scratched his head and looked at Lucien with a hint of doubt. "But… he barely talks."
"Quiet doesn't mean empty," Serena winked. "Just wait and see how he does."
Aiden and Elena looked toward Lucien again. He didn't respond, nor did he protest. Instead, he lowered his head slightly, as if organizing his thoughts.
He appeared calm, but the tips of his ears had turned ever so slightly red.
"…Alright then." Elena nodded. "If we let Lucien do the talking, the judges might think our group's theme is 'silent presentation.'"
"Or 'cold and mysterious pressure aura,'" Aiden added.
Lucien: "…"
Just then, the panel of judges began to arrive.
Dressed in formal attire, the mentors and guest evaluators each held their record boards, walking from display to display with varied expressions. The atmosphere in the hall was solemn and tense, almost as if the air itself was holding its breath for judgment.
Soon, a stern-looking female judge approached their booth. She stopped, opened her board, and scanned the group with a sharp gaze.
"Are you ready?" Her voice was cool and precise.
"Of course, professor!" Serena quickly offered a perfect smile—then promptly pushed Lucien forward.
Still smiling softly, Serena looked toward Lucien, who now stood ready to present. Her expression held no hunger for victory, only a quiet sense of peace. Deep down, she knew this contest was never truly about winning. It was a carefully orchestrated game—a chance to bind the four of them tightly together.
To pit their modest project against the well-practiced, competition-savvy seniors? She never expected to win. What she wanted… was a complete, shared memory. A reason for them to remain close.
Lucien took a step forward, his expression calm as he began to speak:
"Our group's project is a paper-structured drone prototype. The idea was to use this basic frame as a foundation for developing future lightweight, functional aerial devices."
As he spoke, he gestured to the diagrams and assembly charts, his explanation clear and well-structured. "We hope future drones can traverse battlefields, borders, and disaster zones—not only for reconnaissance and supply, but also for precise operations in special environments, reducing unnecessary soldier casualties."
"Though the current model is made of simple materials, we integrated magical gravitational harmonization runes into the structure, allowing us to test its flight stability and load capacity." His tone remained steady, but his gaze was resolute.
Then he turned and nodded at his teammates. All four swiftly moved into position and gently placed the drone at the launch zone.
"Ready," Serena called quietly.
Magic arrays glowed under their palms—the paper drone's wheels spun, and it gradually lifted into the air. At first, it wobbled slightly, but as their magical control stabilized, the model began to hover steadily, even circling in a small loop.
The judges' eyes were drawn to it; several began murmuring amongst themselves.
And just when it seemed the demonstration was over—
Boom!
A burst of ink-black light shimmered in midair. Not an explosion—rather, dark starlike particles scattered like constellations, forming a brief but breathtaking visual display, akin to silent fireworks blooming in the night sky.
"…Eh?!" Serena blinked, stunned. That wasn't part of the plan.
She quickly turned to look at Lucien—and saw him with a slight, rare smile on his face. Cool and quiet as always, yet that subtle arc of his lips spoke volumes.
She understood.
That surprise effect wasn't part of their official design. Lucien had added it himself—a quiet, personal finale—a response to all her effort.
She stared for a second, then smiled too.
Of course it was something Lucien would do—wordless, but more sincere than anyone.
But at the same time, worry crept into Serena's heart.
Would the evaluators realize what that unique darkness truly was?
More than anyone, Serena knew—that brilliant black gleam wasn't ordinary magic. It was elven power—specifically, the rare magic of the Dark Elves.
According to ancient imperial traditions, only those of royal descent could awaken elven power. The ruling house bore the "Fire Elf" bloodline, while the Blake family—through generations of distant lineage—had inherited a faint trace of something far more obscure: Dark Elves.
It was a secret few knew. Even in the empire's vast archives, references to the "Dark Elves" were scarce. The Blake family themselves had only minimal control over it, lacking both formal inheritance and theoretical understanding, let alone mastery.
And this hidden legacy…