Chương 27: “Sit. Stay. Learn.”

Stay. Learn."

Archmage Elena Brightmoon's opening speech had been exactly what Celestia expected. It was inspirational in the way institutional speeches always were, which was to say, functionally. Now, a different figure stood behind the podium. Princess Maribelle Aurelis ascended the stage; she wore the academy's standard uniform rather than royal finery. Her blonde hair was pinned neatly, and she carried herself with a composure that belied her age. She was, after all, roughly the same age as Celestia.

This year's top entrance exam scorer. The entrance exam had taken place months ago, well before Celestia had arrived in this world. She had been spared the inconvenience of actually taking it. Which raised the question: how had the original Celestia passed? The girl had been many things, spoiled, sharp-tongued, vindictive, but academically gifted was not among them. Celestia had a sneaking suspicion that the Reingarde name and the weight of ducal gold behind-the-scenes had smoothed the process considerably.

A few well-placed donations, a word in the right ear, and suddenly even a middling performance became a passing grade.

'Not that it matters now.' Princess Maribelle began her speech.

"Fellow students," she said, her voice carrying easily across the assembly hall, "it is my honor to stand before you today as we embark on this chapter together. Summit Academy represents the Empire's commitment to its future, a future built not on bloodline alone, but on merit, courage, and the willingness to face the unknown." Celestia's attention drifted almost immediately. The words were too polished.

They had the unmistakable texture of something drafted by a professional and rehearsed, every word landed precisely where it was meant to. Maribelle delivered it well, Celestia would give her that, but the content was diplomatic filler. Cooperation. Unity. The importance of working together regardless of station. Standard fare for a princess addressing a mixed audience of nobles and commoners. Instead of listening, Celestia let her mind wander to what she actually knew about Princess Maribelle.

They had met eyes once before at the imperial ball. Maribelle had been the third princess announced, entering in that emerald-green dress with a look of quiet curiosity directed Celestia's way. But that had been the extent of their interaction. Nothing beyond that brief exchange of glances across a crowded ballroom. The original Celestia, consumed as she was with Imperial Prince Damon and her own petty rivalries, likely hadn't spared his sister a second thought.

And from Maribelle's side, there seemed to have been no effort to reach out either. That was fine by Celestia. One fewer person from the imperial family she needed to worry about. Princess Maribelle was a student here, yes, but Celestia couldn't recall her playing a significant role in the original novel's plot.

'If she wasn't important enough for the author to write about, she's probably not important enough for me to worry about.' Probably.

"... and so, I hope that within these walls, there will be no divide between noble and commoner," Maribelle continued, her gaze sweeping across the assembled students.

"We are all here for the same purpose. Let us face it as equals." Applause followed. Enthusiastic from the commoner sections, polite from the nobles. Celestia offered a slow clap. The speech concluded, and the ceremony transitioned to awards.

"For exceptional bravery demonstrated during the recent incident on campus grounds," Maribelle announced, her tone shifting from diplomatic to genuinely warm, "this commendation is awarded to Arthur, for his role in defeating a centurion-level demon and protecting his fellow students." A murmur rippled through the hall as Arthur made his way to the stage from somewhere in the middle rows, looking distinctly uncomfortable with the attention. He wore his uniform slightly rumpled, his blonde hair as tousled as ever.

Princess Maribelle extended her hand. Arthur took it and shook, a shy smile crossing his face. Beside Celestia, Anna was clapping enthusiastically, her small hands producing a sound far louder than her frame would suggest. The commoner girl's eyes were bright with genuine admiration as she watched Arthur on stage. Celestia glanced sideways at her neighbor. Anna's presence this morning was quite unexpected.

Celestia had stepped out of her dormitory room to find the girl already standing in the hallway, fidgeting as though she'd been working up the courage to be there for some time. She had walked with Celestia to the ceremony of her own free will, making nervous but persistent conversation along the way. It turned out that the past week had been a busy one for the commoner girl.

The academy had provided her with therapy sessions following the demon attack, and beyond that, she had thrown herself into her herbology research, apparently her area of academic passion. Even though Celestia hadn't asked for details, Anna had provided them anyway. It was quite a surprise for Celestia; there was a mix of modern and medieval sensibilities in this world, she didn't know that therapy was an ongoing medical availability in this world.

The applause for Arthur soon died down, and the ceremony wrapped up with a few final administrative announcements. The five hundred assembled students began to move as the next part was announced: their first mandatory class.

"All students will now proceed to their assigned mandatory classes," one of the academy staff called out.

"You have been divided into five groups of one hundred. Please check the posted assignments and follow your designated class guide." The hall erupted into the organized chaos of five hundred young people all trying to find their names on lists simultaneously. Celestia didn't bother joining the dogpile. She already knew her assignment; she had checked the postings the day before. Class Three. As it happened, Anna was in the same class.

So were Arthur, Liana, and, if Celestia's memory of the original novel served correctly, most of the other characters who would matter to the plot going forward. The group assembled and followed an academy staff member across the campus grounds. Their destination was one of the many large training facilities, one that had reinforced walls and a ceiling high enough to accommodate magical practice. Inside, however, it had been rearranged.

Rows of chairs and long desks had been set up in tiered formation, creating a pseudo-classroom within the training space. It was an odd juxtaposition: the heavy stone walls and weapon racks of a combat arena surrounding the neat, studious rows of a lecture hall. At the front of the room, a man was already waiting. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. He stood behind a lectern with his arms crossed, watching the students walk in and seat themselves.

He was middle-aged, broad-shouldered, and wore the academy's instructor uniform with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing hairy forearms. Eventually, all of the students found a seat and the conversations dimmed to whispers under the professor's gaze.

"Welcome to your first mandatory class," the professor said.

"My name is Professor Griffin. I will be your primary instructor for all matters regarding the Tower. Let's begin with what we know." He turned to a large chalkboard behind him and drew a rough vertical rectangle, tall and narrow. The Tower.

"The Tower appeared five years ago," Griffin began.

"Since then, every attempt to study its exterior has yielded the same conclusion: the outer shell is, for all practical purposes, indestructible. Everything tried against it has done nothing, it hasn't even left so much as a scratch." He tapped the chalk against the drawing.

"Furthermore, any impact on the exterior has no measurable effect on the interior. You could detonate a siege-class spell against the Tower's wall, and the people inside wouldn't feel a thing. The inside and outside are, as far as we can determine, entirely separate spaces."

"Now," Griffin continued, "the interior." He drew horizontal lines across his rectangle, sectioning it into segments.

"The Tower consists of one hundred floors as stated five years ago in its first appearance. Over the past five years, adventurers from across the continent have managed to clear up to Floor 27. Progress has slowed considerably in recent months as the difficulty of each subsequent floor increases." He set the chalk down and faced the class again.

"Time within the Tower flows at the same rate as outside. One hour inside is one hour out here. There are certain exceptions depending on the nature of specific trials, but as a general rule, you will not emerge to find that months have passed while you were inside the tower."

"Trials?" someone asked from the middle rows.

"Yes." Griffin nodded.

"The Tower is not a matter of just walking from one floor to the next. Each floor presents trials that must be completed before you can advance. And here is where it gets complicated." He crossed his arms.

"Simply being on the same floor as another person does not mean you will face the same trial. The Tower assigns trials on what appears to be an individual basis, though the exact criteria remain unknown. Two climbers entering the same floor at the same time may receive entirely different trials to complete the floor." That got a reaction. The Tower was one of the many phenomena in the world, so a proper discussion on its mechanisms was actually a surprise. Murmurs spread across the room.

Griffin raised a hand and the murmurs died.

"There are also different categories of floors. Solo floors, where you face your trial alone. Cooperative floors, where you are grouped with others. And world floors, which operate on an entirely different scale that we'll discuss in future sessions." He held up five fingers.

"Floors 1 through 5 are solo. There have been no known exceptions for the past five years. You enter alone, and you complete them alone. Floors 1 through 4 function as a beginner's course of sorts. The Tower uses these floors to gauge your abilities, your strengths and weaknesses, and based on its assessment, it provides you with a more direct path of growth tailored to your individual potential."

"Floor 5," he said, his tone dropping slightly, "is where you face your first boss. But here's the important part, the boss that appears varies. Different adventurers have reported different encounters. A giant slime. An orc warrior. A coordinated group of goblins. What remains consistent is that Floor 5 is the first genuine test of whether you belong inside the Tower at all. And there is one more thing you should know about the first five floors. You cannot exit the Tower until you reach Floor 5.

The Tower gives you a final chance to back out. Do you all know how many students are in the 2nd year?" Most of those in the front row shook their head.

"Out of the 700 students, only 500 entered the tower. And out of the 500, only 200 managed to survive to attend Summit Academy's 2nd year program." A 40% survival rate.

"Floor 6 introduces the first of your many cooperative trials," Griffin added.

"From that point onward, the nature of each floor begins to change drastically. But we'll save that discussion for next time." He unfolded his arms and placed both hands on the lectern.

"Questions?" A hand shot up near the back. A young man with an eager expression.

"Sir, what floor did you reach?" Griffin answered, "Twenty-two. I still intend to continue climbing. But working under Archmage Elena's employ has its own merits; teaching this class to not die on Floor 5 is a requirement to achieve those." A few nervous laughs scattered across the room.

"If there are no further questions," Griffin said, straightening, "we'll move on to the important part of today's class." He clapped his hands once. The sound echoed off the training facility's stone walls, and as if on cue, one of the doors opened. An academy staff member entered carrying a wooden crate. He set it on the table at the front of the room with a solid thud and stepped back. Griffin lifted the lid. Inside, nestled in rows, were dozens of small, rough stones. Each one was about the size of a walnut.

"These," Griffin said, holding one up between his thumb and forefinger, "are a recent discovery from within the Tower. They have not yet been named as they're still in the testing phase." He turned the stone slowly in the light.

"When broken, these stones trigger a reaction that allows the user to perceive their own status before entering the tower: a quantified readout of their physical and magical attributes, visible only in their own mind." He set the stone back down and gestured to the staff member, who began distributing one stone and a blank sheet of paper to each student.

"Before you break them," Griffin continued, "let me explain what you'll see." He turned back to the chalkboard and wrote a single letter: H.

"H is the lowest rank," he said.

"It stands for Human. As in, baseline human capability. If your stat reads H, it means you are performing at a level consistent with an ordinary person." He drew an upward arrow beside it and added more letters: G, F, E, D, C, B, A, S.

"Only after breaking through H does an individual begin to elevate beyond the common standard. Each letter represents a significant threshold of growth. The specifics of what separates one rank from the next are still being studied. However, we are still unsure why one person's H is not the same as another person's."

'That's because it's lacking.' He tapped the board.

"You may also find that you possess a special stat. These are rare, and as far as we know, they can only be earned within the Tower. They represent unique attributes that fall outside the standard categories."

"And finally," Griffin said, "Skills. This is the main reason why many believe that Tower is a test sent by the divine. Before the tower appeared, skills could only be given when one is blessed by a Godly entity. However, those who enter the tower are able to learn skills." He turned back to face the class.

"I would like everyone to break their stone, observe their status, and write down their results on the paper provided." The room filled with the sound of small cracks and snaps as a hundred students broke their stones. Celestia held hers in her palm, turning it once before pressing her thumb against its surface. It crumbled easily like crushing a dried clod of dirt. Information flooded her mind. —Stats: Strength: H | Dexterity: H | Speed: H | Wisdom: F | Aura: H —Special Stats: 1 —Skills: 1'How lackluster.'

Compared to the detailed readout her System provided, this was barely a summary. Just broad letter grades and vague confirmations. Celestia picked up the pen and began writing. She wrote H for everything. Every single stat, including Wisdom. And she noted down that she had one skill and no special stats.

'Anyone with half a brain could lie about their stats,' she thought as her pen moved across the paper.

'This entire exercise relies on the honor system. What's stopping someone from hiding what they're truly capable of?' Nothing, apparently. Which was exactly what Celestia was doing. She set down her pen and waited. Around her, students were finishing their own assessments. Some looked pleased, and others seemed to be writing on their papers with visible disappointment. Anna, beside her, was writing her results. Griffin waited until the scratching of pens had mostly stopped before speaking again.

"The Principals are still working on more precise methods to conceptualize and measure stats," he said.

"For now, this is the best tool available to us. As you grow, whether through training or Tower climbing, your stats will change. We will be using these readings to track that growth over time."

"One more thing before I dismiss you," Griffin said.

"I want to give you a sense of what awaits inside." It came without warning, a pressure that slammed down on the room like a physical weight. Stay. Learn."