As Damian finished reading the message, he couldn't help but be surprised.
Not everyone who ranked in the top 2,000 received a direct invitation from Stormhold Academy. Most had to apply and wait for acceptance.
The top 2,000 had a near-guaranteed chance of getting in, but the process still required them to go through the formalities.
Many chose other academies entirely. After all, Stormhold may have been the strongest, but after decades, other prestigious institutions had closed the gap considerably, especially the ones backed by powerful families with deep resources and exclusive weapon arts.
So why had Stormhold sent him a special invitation?
He shrugged. Whatever the reason, it didn't change his decision.
"Damy…"
Lyandra's voice pulled him from his thoughts. She had been reading the other invitations over his shoulder, and her expression had shifted from pride to something heavier.
"You've received invitations from other prestigious academies as well. Some of them are nearly as strong as Stormhold now. And most importantly… they're not filled with as much danger."
There it was. The worry she'd been holding back since the results came in.
Alaric spoke next, his tone measured and calm, not emotional like Lyandra's, but explanatory. The voice of a man who wanted his son to make an informed choice rather than a reckless one.
"We're proud of you, kiddo. Ranking this high is an incredible achievement. But you need to understand what choosing Stormhold actually means."
He folded his hands on the table.
"While Stormhold is the strongest and most of the powerful rankers in the Federation were once their alumni, it's also the only academy where students have a real chance of dying.
Other academies believe in letting students develop safely first. Stormhold's ideology hasn't changed since the world was at its most dangerous."
His voice became quieter.
"They don't deliberately put children in harm's way. But every year, students who enroll there die. From monsters inside the portals, from training accidents and sometimes… through other people's hands."
The last words hung in the air.
Damian maintained his calm as he looked at the solemn faces of his parents.
Then… without rushing and without tension, he leaned back in his chair. One leg crossed over the other. His head tilted slightly, resting against his right hand on the armrest.
The posture of a man who'd sat at the head of a table and commanded rooms full of killers.
His parents noticed. They couldn't not notice. Their fifteen-year-old son was sitting like someone who'd held power for decades.
He smiled.
"Mom. Dad. I know Stormhold won't be completely safe. But is there any place in our world that is?"
Neither answered.
"Ever since the portals opened, war has been raging across our world. We repelled the initial invasion, yes. But the portals never closed. Our fight never truly ended."
His voice carried no arrogance, just the quiet certainty of someone stating facts he'd already accepted.
"I don't know everything about our world's current situation. But I can guess enough. It's a delicate balance that could break at any moment. Even the strongest beings aren't truly safe when the whole world can be compromised in a single second."
Lyandra and Alaric listened with complex emotions. Every word confirmed what they already sensed, their son was speaking with a depth of understanding that no fifteen-year-old should possess.
This wasn't Damian parroting something he'd read in a textbook.
This was a man who had lived in a world where safety was always an illusion, speaking from experience.
After a pause, Damian's expression hardened.
"I understand clearly what going to Stormhold will mean. I understand the dangers of monsters."
His crimson eyes met theirs.
"As for the dangers from fellow humans? Let's just say… I'm not the same Damian as yesterday."
A cold look settled into his eyes. It was brief, but unmistakable.
His parents exchanged a glance.
The same wordless conversation they'd been having since last night, concern and acceptance fighting for dominance.
Their son had changed. He had lost some of his innocence and gained something harder in its place.
But beneath all of it, the love in his eyes when he looked at them hadn't diminished.
If anything, it burned brighter than before.
"Alright, Damy." Lyandra spoke first, her voice steady despite the ache behind it. "You can make the decision on your own. We'll support whichever academy you choose."
It wasn't easy for her to say. Every instinct screamed to keep him somewhere safe, somewhere she could reach him if something went wrong. But the boy sitting in front of her wasn't someone she could shelter anymore.
And deep down, she knew Stormhold was exactly where he needed to be.
"Is there anything you need from us, kiddo?"
Alaric wasn't one for long speeches. His face said everything his words didn't – pride, trust, and the quiet acceptance that his son was stepping into a world that would test him in ways no parent could prepare for.
Damian pondered for a moment.
'I feel exposed with nothing to defend myself…'
In his past life, Alessio had never been unarmed. Not once in forty years. The absence of a weapon at his side felt like a missing limb, a vulnerability that his instincts screamed at him to correct.
"Dad. Can you get me a gun… and the license to carry it?"
The request came out without hesitation.
"…A gun?" Alaric blinked. "Guns are considered predictable weapons among awakeners. The bullets are too slow for high-ranked opponents to worry about, and their power is limited unless the wielder has strong Aura control."
He wasn't dismissing the choice, just genuinely confused by it. Swords, spears, axes – those were the weapons awakeners gravitated toward. Guns were seen as a commoner's fallback.
"Just give it to him and stop doubting our son."
Lyandra's pout was immediate, her glare sharp enough to make her husband flinch.
"There are plenty of powerful shooters among awakeners who can control the trajectories of their bullets. And I'm sure Damian will be able to control his Aura perfectly fine."
"Sigh… But those are people who've trained for years and have exceptional willpower to…" Alaric caught his wife's expression. "…Alright, alright. I'll get them by the end of today."
He smiled sheepishly, one hand touching his forehead in surrender.
Damian chuckled watching them. The dynamic between his parents – Lyandra's fierce protectiveness, Alaric's calm rationality, and the way she could shut down his logic with a single look – it was the kind of partnership Alessio had never witnessed in his previous world.
'Forty years as a mafia boss, and I never once saw two people argue like this over something so mundane. Because they love each other and… because they love me.'
The thought settled warm and heavy in his chest.
He opened his mouth before the feeling could make him linger too long.
"I'll train in the training room for today. Now that I'm about to enter an academy, I can finally start my breathing exercises and Aura generation training."
"Ah yes, go ahead! But make sure to eat something and rest on time." Lyandra's worry instantly transformed into excitement.
Her son was finally going to start advancing in rank!
"And remember to accept the invitation from the academy before you start training. If you don't understand anything, come ask us."
"I'll call you when I have the license and gun ready."
Alaric stood and left the house without ceremony. Lyandra disappeared to handle her own affairs, her steps lighter than they'd been all morning.
Damian sat alone at the dining table for a moment.
The house was quiet again.
He picked up his communicator, opened the message from Stormhold Academy, and accepted their invitation without hesitation.
His expression was calm and focused.
"I hope I won't be disappointed."