No More Pain For This Villain.

Chapter 155 Entrance Ceremony.

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[Ren Hilton's POV.]

"Is this okay?" I asked as I looked at myself in the mirror.

"Who's that beauty, huh?" Blaze chuckled.

"Shut up, parasite," I cursed back at his remarks.

"It's not my fault you're looking at yourself now," Blaze said, strolling away.

Sighing, I looked back at the mirror.

I was wearing a new grey plain robe, which was neat and clean, with a single white stripe that indicated that I am in the first year.

Tying the bunch of my hair into a bun, I exposed my face, something I wasn't used to. I even had the admission test while leaving my hair down.

I took a final look around the hotel room. I wouldn't have to come back here because the academy provides dorms and accommodations for the students. However, I'd have to return after the entrance ceremony to pick up my things.

"Am I allowed?" Blaze asked.

"Yeah, Imperial Academy doesn't prohibit pets, but they won't take responsibility if the pet dies due to any magic performed by a student," I said.

"I am not your pet, but yeah, it's fine," Blaze replied as he hopped inside the robe.

Stepping out of the hotel room, I emerged into the brilliant daylight. The day stretched out ahead, vibrant and bustling with students just like me, each brimming with anticipation. The atmosphere was alive with a sense of excitement and nervous energy, creating a vibrant buzz that wrapped around me.

As I made my way towards the grand academy road, the path was adorned with clusters of students, their conversations interweaving into a symphony of expectations and aspirations. The journey to the gates was a brief one, yet every step seemed to carry a weight of significance. And there, standing sentry at the entrance, were a few professors. Their presence was dignified, matching the grandeur of the occasion.

What truly caught my attention was the grimoire, an arcane book of magic, hovering gracefully in the air beside them. 

Approaching me was the upright professor I had encountered the day before. His presence commanded attention, and memories of our brief interaction resurfaced.

As he walked towards me, the grimoire floated alongside him, moving with an almost eerie synchronization. Within moments, they stood before me. The professor's hand ascended, effortlessly capturing the grimoire as he directed his gaze down at it.

"Name," he uttered succinctly, his words hanging in the air. A flicker of doubt crossed my mind. Did he not recognize me?

'Don't blame him; he didn't see your face yesterday,' Blaze's voice echoed in my thoughts.

"Ren Chris Hilton," I promptly supplied it to the professor.

"!?" His face swiftly snapped up to meet mine, recognition dawning upon him. "The guy from yesterday?"

"Yep," I replied,  tugging at the corners of my lips. It seemed that I had left an impression after all.

"....You look different," he finally stated, his words carrying a notable pause. The professor's observation hung in the air, leaving me to wonder what had brought about this change in perception.

He let out another sigh, his hand finding its place on the grimoire's surface. His touch prompted the pages to illuminate in a radiant white glow, casting an otherworldly light that seemed to dance across the room.

In an instant, the glow faded, and the grimoire shifted to face me. As my gaze fell upon its pages, I noticed their texture—rough and ancient, as if they held countless untold stories. At the center, a circular symbol was intricately drawn, encasing a small inscription within its confines.

Placing my hand atop the symbol, I began channeling my mana into it, a delicate process that required precision and control. But a surge of energy surged unexpectedly, causing me to tense. "!!" Panic gripped me momentarily as I realized I had miscalculated, allowing an excessive amount of mana to flood into the inscription. Swiftly, I managed to regain control and reduce the flow of mana.

The unintended influx of energy caused the pages to warm, an indication that I had come dangerously close to triggering an explosion. 

"From here on out, you are a student of the Imperial Academy, one of the best magic academies in this world," his words were delivered with a lack of warmth, almost as if he resented his own role.

"I am honored," I replied, mustering a smile as I walked past him.

"Do you know the way to the auditorium?" he inquired, to which I gave a subtle nod before continuing on my way.

Navigating these academy grounds came naturally to me; I could traverse the pathways with ease. It wouldn't take more than a minute to reach the auditorium situated within the towering main building.

Stepping into the main building, a distinct shift in the atmosphere enveloped me. The air carried the familiar scent of books, and the ambient sound was a medley of giggles and the hurried footsteps of students.

Near the entrance, a group of second-year students stood, their friendly faces indicating their role as guides for us, the first-years, leading us to the auditorium where our official journey would commence.

The grand auditorium stretched before me as I entered, its expanse filled with an air of importance and significance. The seating area was a sea of plush, maroon-colored chairs, neatly aligned in rows that sloped gently downwards towards the stage. Each chair seemed to beckon the students with a promise of knowledge and transformation.

The seating arrangement was meticulously organized, ensuring an unobstructed view for every attendee. The rich maroon upholstery contrasted against the polished wooden armrests, exuding an aura of refinement and tradition. The ambient lighting bathed the seating area in a warm, inviting glow, setting the stage for the upcoming events.

And there, at the center of it all, the stage stood with an air of command. The platform was elevated, flanked by elegant curtains that hinted at the performances and speeches that would unfold. A lectern adorned the stage's center, a symbol of authority and knowledge. The backdrop was adorned with the academy's emblem, an intricate amalgamation of magical symbols and sigils.

As I took in the sight of the auditorium, its seating, and the stage, 

Taking my place in the second-to-last row of seats, a puzzling observation caught my attention. A quiet murmur escaped my lips, directed at Blaze, who emerged from his hidden perch within my robe and settled on my lap.

"Am I being avoided?" I voiced my confusion, seeking Blaze's perspective on the matter.

"I think so," Blaze's response mirrored my bewilderment, his tiny form mirroring my contemplative state.

Something was amiss, something I couldn't quite grasp. The students around me seemed to maintain an unusual distance, a hesitancy in their steps as they maneuvered the aisles. Their eyes flickered in my direction, veiled glances that held a sense of intrigue yet were tempered by a hint of unease. It was a disconcerting feeling to be the focal point of such peculiar behavior.

Most notably, the seats surrounding me remained conspicuously empty. There was an unspoken barrier that kept others from occupying the spaces close to mine. Hushed conversations swirled within groups, heads turned towards me every so often, exchanging whispered words that seemed laden with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty.

Frowning, I brushed my hand against my own face, almost expecting to find something unusual there. "Is there something strange on my face?" I questioned aloud, perplexity lacing my words.

Blaze scrutinized me for a moment before shaking his head in negation. "Umm... nothing," he responded, his own uncertainty mirroring mine. 

Amidst the peculiar glances from my peers, I refocused on the stage. The student council president, a poised third-year, took center stage, emanating confidence. Her lithe form exuded authority as she spoke, her ebony hair framing a face that exuded intelligence. Sharp eyes, brows arched in determination, scanned the audience. Her lips curved in a self-assured smile that matched her tailored ensemble of black and gold, radiating professionalism.

"Isn't that Mary?" Blaze's observation pulled my attention towards the stage, and true enough, there she sat in the leftmost seat, a figure I couldn't miss. Beside her, a blonde youth named Adam Stales occupied the adjacent seat.

"Who gives a damn where she is," I muttered dismissively, recentering my focus as I casually crossed one leg over the other.

As my gaze landed on her, I experienced a curious emptiness. Gone were any traces of hate or the emotions the previous owner of this body had for her. She was just a nobody to me now, devoid of any significance or influence. 

Returning my attention to the stage, I immersed myself in the president's speech. However, my concentration was momentarily broken when someone rose from their seat and made their way towards the edge of the stage. 

As the figure stood at the edge of the stage, his appearance exuded a sense of grandeur and wisdom. His long, flowing silver beard cascaded down his chest, framing a face lined with age and experience. Eyes twinkled with a knowing light, hinting at the depths of knowledge he possessed. His tall, imposing frame was adorned in flowing robes that swirled gracefully as he moved, commanding attention with every step. 

"I am Maximilian Alistair Stormborne the Third, the principal of this Academy," his voice, amplified by a subtle touch of magic, echoed powerfully across the auditorium, reaching every corner. His presence evoked a sense of grandeur, a figure with an aura that held both authority and ancient wisdom. 

With his eyes holding a timeless depth of knowledge, his long, flowing silver beard cascading like a waterfall, he continued, "And I welcome you to the Imperial Academy." His voice carried the weight of years, a resonance that seemed to transcend time itself.

'Is he the dragon you mentioned previously?'Blaze asked.

"He is," I answered.