Chapter 12 The Beggar at the Gates
The Academy didn't look like a place for people like me.
Its front gates were tall enough to shame a castle wall. Iron-laced wood, carved with old runes, and polished until they caught the morning sun like a blade. The banners flying overhead were embroidered with silver thread, flapping gently in a breeze that smelled like flowers and expensive soap.
I probably smelled like something that had died in the woods.
I'd been walking non-stop for four days. No food but what I could scavenge, no rest except a few hours against a tree trunk. I'd crossed two rivers, climbed a ravine, and slipped past more than one bandit camp. By the time the city came into view, my body felt like a bundle of aching joints held together by sheer spite.
And I wasn't about to collapse now.
Not after everything.
I made it to the courtyard, dragging my shadow behind me like a torn flag, and immediately felt eyes on me.
Wealthy students, first-years like me, stood in groups under the shade of stone arches. They wore clean uniforms. Their boots were polished. Their cloaks didn't have burn marks.
One of them wrinkled his nose when he saw me.
"Gods. Did someone dig him up?"
Laughter followed.
"Don't get too close," another one said. "Whatever that is might have fleas."
There were three of them. Clean-shaven, smirking, armed with swords too new to have seen blood. The kind of noble boys who probably trained by sparring with their maids.
The tallest one stepped forward and flipped a silver coin at me like he was feeding a dog.
"Here," he said. "Get yourself a bath."
He's and people nearby started to laugh
It landed near my foot with a soft chime.
I bent down, picked it up, and slid it into my pocket without blinking. "Appreciate it."
He stared.
"...You serious?"
"Free money," I said. "Don't mind me."
Their laughter stopped. Just for a second. Long enough for one of them to blink like they didn't know what to do next.
Then they scoffed and turned away.
I kept walking.
---
The line for registration wrapped around the fountain like a procession of corpses. Every face looked different, but most shared the same thing: nerves. A few tried to fake confidence. Some paced. Others stared off into space, muttering spells or breathing patterns. One was dry-heaving into a bush.
I found a spot near the end of the line and settled in.
A boy a few places ahead stood too straight, like someone had jammed a steel rod into his back. His hair was cut military short, uniform spotless. His sword wasn't decorative—it was functional. Worn grip, tight bindings, slight scuff marks on the hilt. Even without a word, I could tell. This one trained for keeps.
Didn't look like he wanted friends, either.
To my right, a girl in a faded green cloak hugged a satchel like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Short brown hair, quiet hands, eyes darting every few seconds like she expected someone to grab her. She noticed me noticing her and looked away instantly.
Then there was the tall figure near the far pillar. Older, maybe seventeen or eighteen. Not in line already wearing the upperclassman black-and-gold colors. He leaned back like he had all the time in the world. Calm eyes, easy grin, posture loose but balanced. When our eyes met, he gave me the faintest nod.
Like he knew me.
I didn't nod back.
And near the back of the courtyard, I spotted someone else. Hard to miss them. Draped in a long black cloak, face hidden behind a blank porcelain mask. No movement. No talking. Just standing there, still as stone.
I didn't know what that one was.
Didn't want to, either.
---
A loud voice cracked through the air.
"Attention."
An instructor had arrived. Tall, thin, dressed in layered robes and a long coat with a silver badge clipped to the chest. His face was sharp. Not cruel. Just…efficient. The kind of man who probably forgot your name the moment you stopped being useful.
"You're standing in the Courtyard of Stone," he said. "This is Crescendo Academy. If you don't belong here, leave now. You'll be doing us both a favor."
No one moved.
"Good. In ten minutes, the Trial Hall opens. You will enter alone. You will not speak. You will not ask questions. You will either pass, or you won't."
He paused.
"Do not waste our time."
Then he left, coat swaying behind him like a sword being sheathed.
The line shuffled forward. No one wanted to talk anymore.
I took a breath.
---
[Quest Updated]
Main Quest: Swordmaster's Legacy
Clear Condition: Pass the Entrance Trial
Reward: Admission, Bonus Stat Points, ???
Penalty for Failure: Rejection from Academy
---
I opened my Status Window.
---
[Status Window]
Name: ???
Tier: (Colorless Tier)
Level: 3
Class: —
Title: —
[Stats]
Health: 120/120
Mana: 25/25
Strength: 82
Stamina: 85
Agility: 80
Dexterity: 78
Endurance: 81
Intelligence: 50
Perception: 55
Traits:
System Adaptation I
Buried Flame
Iron Focus
Steady Breath
Survivor Instinct
Instinctive Combatant
Skills:
Flowing Blade
Measured Strike I
[Quest]
Category: Main
Title: Swordmaster's Legacy
Clear Conditions: Survive the entrance test
Reward: Admission, Bonus Stat Points, ???
Penalty for Failure: Rejection from Academy
---
I closed the window.
My heart wasn't racing.
No butterflies. No doubt. Just heat in my chest and a steady itch in my hands like they missed the weight of a blade. The mockery back at the gates meant nothing. The coin was still in my pocket, and I'd keep it. Might buy bread later.
I wasn't here to impress anyone.
I was here to make it through.
---
"Next," someone called.
The line moved.
When my turn came, I stepped forward.
The Trial Hall doors loomed ahead. Stone archway. Torches lit with violet fire. Darkness beyond.
No crowd cheering. No one clapping. No one waiting.
Just me.
And the test.
I briefly touch the hilt of my sword to calm my nerve. Then, I stepped through.