The final lecture of the day covered Advanced Theological Interpretation—examining how the Five Ancients’ will manifested through historical events and contemporary Church policy.

Rey found the content simultaneously enlightening and frustrating.

Enlightening because it revealed how Aether authorities rationalized their actions through divine mandate.

Frustrating because the circular logic—Ancients are infallible, therefore everything they do or permit must serve righteous purpose—made genuine analysis impossible within the theological framework.

When the lecture concluded, students filtered out with conversations focused primarily on Rey’s unexpected victory over Darius and Sephyr’s dominant display.

Sephyr caught Rey before he could depart.

"Would you like to have dinner together?" she asked with warmth that appeared genuine. "I thought we could discuss your first day, address any concerns about Academy integration, and perhaps talk about your combat performance."

The underlying curiosity was obvious. She wanted to understand how he’d defeated Darius using lower-Sequence techniques when conventional analysis suggested that should have been impossible.

"I’d like that," Rey replied with appropriate gratitude.

They walked to the communal dining hall together, their presence attracting immediate attention from other students.

To Rey’s mild surprise, the reaction was predominantly positive.

A group of younger students approached their table with expressions mixing admiration and welcome.

"That was amazing!" one declared enthusiastically. "The way you dismantled Darius’s techniques—I’ve never seen anyone counter Order Art that efficiently!"

"He’s been bullying Nephilim students since he enrolled," another added. "Someone needed to teach him that heritage doesn’t determine worth. You did what many of us wanted to but couldn’t."

More students joined, their conversations flowing naturally despite Rey’s reserved responses.

They asked about his experience during the Grand Expedition, his survival of the Emperor’s interrogation, and his tactical approach during the sparring match.

Rey maintained his Eru persona throughout—grateful for acceptance, modest about his capabilities, appropriately uncertain about his place in the Academy hierarchy.

But he carefully shaped responses to reinforce the narrative he wanted them to believe: a capable practitioner elevated through divine blessing rather than possessing inherently exceptional power.

"I’m really happy," Rey stated with a smile that mixed genuine satisfaction at successful social manipulation with fabricated warmth.

"I was worried about how I’d be received given my heritage. But you’ve all made me feel welcome in ways I didn’t expect."

Sephyr watched the interactions with an expression suggesting approval mixed with something approaching protectiveness. Her presence served as social validation—if the Academy’s most promising candidate accepted Rey, others felt safe doing likewise.

The group hung out together through dinner and into the evening, conversations ranging from academic topics to casual social exchanges.

Rey contributed enough to appear engaged without dominating discussions, his reserved nature interpreted as lingering trauma rather than strategic calculation.

Eventually, as twilight settled over Academy grounds—though the eternal divine illumination prevented true darkness—the group began dispersing to their respective residences.

Rey and Sephyr walked together through corridors that glowed with soft light emphasizing every architectural detail.

"You did well today," Sephyr stated once they were alone. "Both academically and socially. I know integration can be challenging, especially with prejudice you faced from students like Darius."

"Thank you," Rey replied.

He paused whilw staring at her sincerely.

"Your support made a significant difference. Without your presence, I suspect the hostility would have been more pronounced."

"Haha! Is that so?" Her chuckle revealed the great joy and satisfaction she derived from his statement.

They continued in comfortable silence for several minutes before Sephyr suddenly stopped, her red eyes focusing on the training field visible through a nearby window.

"Would you spar with me?" she asked, her tone carrying curiosity mixed with what might have been genuine interest in understanding his capabilities better. "I’m curious about your combat approach. The way you defeated Darius suggested tactical awareness that exceeds your normal classification."

Rey’s mind worked through implications immediately.

She wanted to test him, assess whether his earlier performance represented his maximum capability or carefully calibrated demonstration.

’Dangerous,’ he calculated. ’She operates at levels approaching Angel-tier. Even limiting herself significantly, she might detect inconsistencies if I’m not careful about concealing my true power.’

But refusing would raise different questions.

And an opportunity to observe her capabilities more directly had strategic value.

’There’s also that matter...’

"I’d be honored," Rey stated with an appropriate mix of nervousness and determination. "Though I should warn you—I suspect the gap between our capabilities is substantial."

Sephyr smiled with an expression suggesting she appreciated his honesty.

"I’ll limit myself to Low and Mid-Sequence techniques under Spirit Art, since that appears to be your primary affinity. That should make the sparring more educational for both of us."

They moved to the training field—smaller facility than the main hall but still equipped with protective enchantments preventing serious injury.

As Rey took position opposite Sephyr, an unexpected memory surfaced despite his practiced emotional control.

—Amara Desgarron.

They’d trained together in similar contexts during his time as slave in the Desgarron Manor.

She’d been a patient instructor despite their opposing status, teaching him combat techniques while he’d secretly planned to betray her entire family and kill them.

’I even killed her in the end...’ As he stared at Sephyr, he felt a dark feeling course through his heart.

The parallel was uncomfortable.

This was another mentor figure who didn’t know his true nature, teaching him skills he’d eventually use against everything she represented.

Rey forced the memory aside with practiced discipline.

Sentiment served no strategic purpose.

Amara had been an enemy despite her kindness. Sephyr was a potential threat despite her current support.

’Her sister is Seraph, for crying out loud!’

Both were means to ends rather than genuine relationships.

He settled into a combat stance, suppressing his mystical signature to normal parameters that matched his cover identity.

Sephyr adopted a ready position that somehow conveyed both seriousness and restraint—fighter preparing for educational demonstration rather than actual confrontation.

"Ready?" she asked.

Rey nodded.

"Begin."

Sephyr moved first, her speed controlled to levels that gave Rey opportunity to respond rather than overwhelming him immediately.

"Spirit Art, Tempest Technique, Sequence #6: Wind Blade!"

Compressed air launched toward Rey with force sufficient to test his defensive capabilities without causing serious harm if it connected.

Rey dodged rather than blocking, his Gale Step technique allowing evasion that demonstrated competence without revealing the enhanced perception that made her attack seem slow by comparison.

"Spirit Art, Construction Technique, Sequence #6: Stone Wall!"

He raised an earthen barrier between them, buying seconds to analyze her combat patterns while appearing to struggle with defensive management.

Sephyr’s follow-up demonstrated why she was approaching Angel ascension.

"Spirit Art, Inferno Technique, Sequence #5: Flame Serpent!"

Fire erupted in serpentine form that flowed around Rey’s barrier with fluid grace, attacking from angles his defense didn’t cover.

Rey countered with technique that appeared desperate but was actually precisely calculated.

"Spirit Art, Tempest Technique, Sequence #5: Storm Aegis!"

Wind barriers deflected the flame serpent’s approach, their opposing elements creating a spectacular visual effect that masked Rey’s tactical precision beneath apparent reactive defense.

They continued exchanging techniques, each assault and counter revealing information about combat philosophies and tactical preferences.

Sephyr fought with refined elegance that reflected years of formal instruction—every technique executed with textbook precision, every movement economical and purposeful, every tactical decision grounded in established doctrine.

Rey’s approach appeared more improvised but was actually more sophisticated—using lower-Sequence techniques with timing and positioning that compensated for their reduced power, exploiting openings that Sephyr’s formal training didn’t prepare her to recognize, maintaining defensive posture that concealed his true offensive capabilities.

"Spirit Art, Construction Technique, Sequence #5: Earth Spear!"

"Spirit Art, Tempest Technique, Sequence #6: Lightning Flash!"

"Spirit Art, Inferno Technique, Sequence #6: Flame Lance!"

Their techniques painted the training field with elemental displays that would have been lethal without protective enchantments—earth shattering, lightning arcing, fire consuming everything in its path.

But beneath the spectacle, both fighters were analyzing rather than simply attacking.

Sephyr testing Rey’s limits, probing for inconsistencies that might suggest his Gold-rank classification understated his true capabilities.

Rey calibrating his performance to demonstrate competence that justified Academy enrollment without revealing power that would trigger investigation.

After several minutes of intense exchange, they simultaneously created distance—mutual recognition that current engagement had provided sufficient data for initial assessment.

Sephyr’s expression showed satisfaction mixed with curiosity that hadn’t been fully satisfied.

"You’re better than your classification suggests," she observed, her breathing slightly elevated despite her superior capabilities. "Your technique execution is competent, but your tactical awareness exceeds what normal practitioners demonstrate. You really fight like someone with extensive real combat experience rather than just training."

Rey maintained an appropriate modest response while internally assessing whether he’d revealed too much.

"The Grand Expedition provided harsh lessons," he stated carefully. "Survival required adapting quickly to situations training couldn’t prepare me for."

Sephyr nodded, accepting that explanation while her red eyes continued analyzing him with attention that suggested she wasn’t entirely convinced.

Then her expression shifted—smile widening with anticipation that transcended educational sparring.

"I think," she stated while her mystical pressure began intensifying, "it’s time to kick things up a notch."

Her golden hair seemed to catch light that didn’t exist, divine blessing amplifying her presence beyond what normal practitioners could achieve.

"I’m going to get a little bit more serious."

(A/N: Sorry for the last Chapter. It has been corrected now.)