Yet, though Alandiye’s strength diminished after becoming female, her resilience, impact resistance, and immunity to special combat techniques like roars had significantly increased.

Of course, a roar of this caliber would’ve barely affected Yedi back in his prime.

Had Alandiye not wished to avoid becoming the legend who defeated an examiner during transfer trials, she’d have had ample opportunities to strike Morton down mid-roar.

But she didn’t. She simply kept her distance.

After his roar, Morton seized the momentum, spinning his warhammer toward Alandiye. Rippling shockwaves trailed the weapon—a near-combat technique.

Alandiye, however, timed her move perfectly. The moment his hammer’s edge swept past, she lunged forward with a precise step. Her samurai sword thrust straight into the hammer’s rear end. The sudden added force threw Morton off-balance, nearly toppling him.

Alandiye swiftly closed in, her long legs clad in black tight pants carrying her forward. Her blade sliced past Morton’s eyes—so close it seemed to miss.

But it was deliberate.

Even Morton, a battle-hardened warrior, felt the killing intent radiating from the blade. A chill shot down his spine.

He stared at this delicate girl in disbelief. Her figure no longer seemed merely alluring—it flowed like water, utterly flawless.

*What’s happening? Am I imagining things?*

Morton couldn’t explain it. Frustration surged through him, blood pounding in his ears. He lost all reason, swinging his hammer with reckless, brute force toward Alandiye.

*Clang!*

As Alandiye sidestepped the crushing blow, her sword flashed in a curved slash.

*Whoosh!*

The blade slid down mere inches from Morton’s forehead. A razor-sharp gust froze his powerful frame—he nearly believed his skull had split open.

“Time’s up!”

Below, the last grains of sand trickled through the hourglass. Josephine’s voice rang out.

Though brutal by nature, Morton fell silent. He unconsciously touched his forehead, checking for a wound he knew wasn’t there… He’d never admit it outwardly, but this veteran warrior understood: had the fight continued, he would’ve lost.

“Alandiye: nine points.”

Someone hadn’t given her a perfect score.

Aside from Qingruo, few examiners or Student Council judges likely noticed Alandiye had at least ten chances to defeat Morton outright. Yet everyone recognized her swordsmanship—she never faltered against Instructor Morton, even gaining the upper hand later. Every examiner scored her no lower than nine.

“Next, the final results for all candidates.” After confirming with the examiners and judges, Morton took a parchment scroll listing the three candidates’ total scores.

“Alandiye: nineteen points. Admitted!”

“Jorluvi: sixteen points. Admitted!”

“And… Feg? Nine points. Rejected!”

Morton’s rough voice echoed across the testing ground and surrounding woods.

*Finally… a student of the Holy Academy.* Alandiye’s heart swelled with emotion. Though the outcome was expected, the journey—from Yedi reluctantly seeking the dean’s recommendation to relying on Xingyu’s help for letters of recommendation and enrollment papers—hadn’t been easy.

*Nineteen points is fine. A perfect score might’ve sparked rumors on campus.* Alandiye craved no attention. This identity finally let her live openly as a girl in the academy—crucial for her long-term mission to protect Qingruo.

Nearby, Jorluvi glared maliciously at Alandiye. From the start, he’d disliked her—perhaps because a commoner dared defy him, or maybe it was her hair color.

*Hssk…* Pain flared where Josephine had kicked him. He clutched his ribs, the ache deepening his hatred.

Beneath a large tree, the stout Feg sat slumped against the trunk, muttering to himself, “I always thought she was just tagging along… Turns out, I was the one filling space.”

“Jorluvi, feeling better? You still have the Sacred Power supplementary test.” A deputy examiner wearing a Holy Church insignia approached.

“Y-yes.” Jorluvi winced, limping after the examiner. Though battered, he still carried himself with forced superiority.

The Imperial Sacred Academy was a strictly orthodox Holy Church institution. All students and faculty worshipped the Lord of Holy Grace; female students also revered the Holy Empress.

But not all students qualified to learn Sacred Power.

Only those with specific affiliations—apprentice Holy Temple Knights, novice monks, battle nuns, Witch Hunter clergy, or members of certified Holy Church military organizations—could study Sacred Power techniques like Holy Chants.

Most students belonged to other groups: apprentice knights, full knights, or unranked warriors serving the Empire’s royal or noble military systems. They trained in martial arts, swordsmanship, and academics under the Church’s guidance—but were barred from Sacred Power texts.

“Alandiye, come with me. I’ll handle your enrollment. If all goes smoothly, you’ll start today.” A plain-faced male deputy examiner addressed her.

“Oh? Very well.” Alandiye gave a slight bow.

Starting today exceeded her expectations. She felt more excited than when she’d first joined as a teacher.

“Um… may I change clothes first?”

“Of course.” The examiner nodded politely.

Alandiye turned to see the senior student and two Student Council representatives gathering test records, preparing to leave with the chief examiners. The senior was discussing something with Josephine.

They passed close by. The senior held a ledger, met Alandiye’s eyes, and gave a subtle nod—her long hair swaying as she walked away.

*Senior…* No chance to return her shirt and pants today.

*Wait—that’s reckless. I wore them next to my skin. I should wash them thoroughly before returning them.*

After watching the senior disappear up the hill, Alandiye hurried to the storage room. Thankfully, her trunk remained untouched—only teachers and soldiers had been there.

She changed back into her uniform, then followed the deputy examiner toward the main castle to register.

As examiners, candidates, and soldiers departed, the mountainside testing ground fell silent once more.

Beside the field, a wooden post marked by a slender samurai sword gash *cracked*—splitting cleanly in two.

…

For the first time, she entered the ancient castle not as a teacher, but as a student—and a girl.

Alandiye followed the deputy examiner to a floor Yedi had never visited. Deep red carpets lined dimly lit corridors.

“Miss Alandiye, please enter. Hand this to the dean of admissions for your enrollment permit.” The examiner gave her a wax-sealed test results scroll, knocked, and announced her.

“Come in.” A low, middle-aged voice sounded from within.

Alandiye glanced back—the male examiner stood aside, not entering.

She pushed open the heavy wooden door into a spacious, shadowy office smelling faintly of dust and ink.

“Alandiye, correct? Close the door.” Behind a massive, dark desk sat a bald, obese man in his fifties. His clothes were slightly worn but impeccably tailored.

Before Alandiye could move, the examiner outside shut the door and left.

She glanced back, unease prickling her skin since stepping inside.

“Alandiye, I hear you excelled at your previous academy. Your test scores are impressive. The Imperial Sacred Academy welcomes talents like you. But our standards are high, our rules strict. You must work hard and avoid violations.” The dean—a recent transfer Yedi had never met—spoke smoothly.

“I’ll work hard and follow all rules,” Alandiye replied demurely to avoid suspicion.

“Good. Hand me your results scroll.” The dean stood.

Alandiye approached the desk to pass the scroll. But the dean rounded the desk toward her—shorter than her, yet radiating oily heaviness.

“Give it here.” He extended stubby, fleshy hands.

His movements felt unnatural, but Alandiye saw no immediate threat. She offered the scroll respectfully.

“Excellent. Let’s see these remarkable scores.” The dean beamed, reaching with both hands. As he took the scroll, his fingers “accidentally” brushed hers.

Alandiye’s instincts flared. Before contact, she yanked her hand back, placing the scroll on the desk beside him.

“Here is my scroll, Dean.” She stepped back.

The dean blinked in surprise, then chuckled warmly. “Ah, splendid. Let me verify…” He examined the scroll longer than necessary before preparing the permit. “With this, you’re officially a student of our glorious academy. Come, sign here.” He gestured toward a sofa. “Sit and write.”

Though only months into living as a girl, Alandiye sensed danger. But she couldn’t afford setbacks now.

She sat on the sofa, pen poised.

The dean sat beside her.

Alandiye remained outwardly calm. Beneath the table, her foot hooked the carpet’s edge and yanked.

The dean’s bulky frame slid sideways—*thump!*—landing hard on the sofa.

“Dean! Are you alright?” Alandiye stood.

“A-ah, nothing…” He rubbed his head, bewildered. *Did the floor just move?*

“Shall I call for help?” She moved toward the door.

“No, no! Just… old legs, haha…” He forced a laugh.

“I’ve signed. Is there anything else?” Alandiye pointed to the permit.

“N-nothing. You’re dismissed.” Dazed from the fall, he waved vaguely. “Take this to your year advisor…”

Alandiye left without another word.

…

Afternoon light filtered through the drizzling hillside trees, spilling into the ancient, vaulted classroom.

Behind rows of dark wooden desks sat the Empire’s young elite—boys and girls in identical black uniforms.

Behind a sturdy, carved lectern stood a female teacher with wavy auburn hair. “Class 2-B,” she announced to curious stares, “we have a transfer student today.” She turned toward the door. “Come in, Alandiye.”

Beyond the already-open heavy chestnut-brown wooden door of the classroom, a pair of feet in exquisite black leather shoes and white mid-calf socks stepped in.