Reborn Financier-Chapter 43: First Collision

The wind in Emberforge was unusually cold, sharper at this altitude, where towers pierced the sky and mana ran thick through the air. Kaidën walked with his usual quiet grace, steps unhurried, blindfold still wrapped firmly around his eyes. The world around him buzzed with energy—new students from all across the continents, bursting with nerves, pride, or ambition. And yet, for him, it was simply another step forward.

He turned a corner—and bam!

Two bodies collided hard enough to stagger both parties.

Kaidën stumbled slightly, holding his balance. He instinctively reached forward, steadying himself. "My bad," he said calmly, raising his head. "Are you alright?"

The person he had collided with was a young man—tall, radiant, with golden-blond hair that caught the sunlight like molten metal. His features were sculpted, almost too perfect, the kind of beauty that made nobles proud and commoners suspicious. His white-and-gold uniform already screamed wealth, stitched with a family crest unknown to Kaidën.

The blond boy brushed off his sleeves dramatically. "Hahaha, no problem, no problem," he said with a polished laugh. "At least you know how to apologize."

There was a faint smugness behind the words, a subtle shifting of blame onto Kaidën, even though it had clearly been his own careless turn that caused the collision. A crowd had started to gather, students pausing to see what the commotion was about.

Kaidën said nothing more—he had already offered courtesy. That was enough.

But the blond wasn’t done.

"Lukas! Lukas!!" a girl’s voice rang out from nearby.

A young lady, breathless from running, arrived beside the blond youth. Her platinum hair was tied into a neat braid, and she wore the same rich uniform, though hers bore alchemist markings.

"The Headmaster is coming!" she announced with urgency.

Lukas glanced toward the distant tower where the magical pressure was rapidly rising, then turned back to Kaidën.

"Well then, would you excuse me?" he said with a lopsided grin. "And maybe next time try looking properly... Oh—" his eyes narrowed slightly, "sorry. I forgot. You can’t see."

A few snickers echoed from the watching crowd. Kaidën stood quietly, neither flinching nor reacting, his expression unreadable behind the blindfold.

Lukas turned with a graceful pivot and walked away with the girl, the crowd parting for him.

But Kaidën wasn’t fuming.

He smiled—softly.

Not out of embarrassment, but because he saw something. Something most wouldn’t notice. Beneath Lukas’s beauty and charm, Kaidën sensed a crack. A flaw behind the polished facade. Pride masking insecurity. Something that would make this journey... far more interesting.

"Looks like the academy is going to be more fun than expected," Kaidën muttered to himself, adjusting his robe and continuing forward.

****

As Kaidën approached the practical exam site, he felt the air grow heavier with expectation. The wide training arena was filled with white marble platforms, steel pillars, and dozens of testing stations. At the center stood glowing crystal balls—each opaque and shimmering with faint blue light. They were used to test mana reserves, affinities, and purity.

All around him, conversations sparked like static.

The boy who had come to the academy dressed in plain clothes—intentionally so, to avoid attracting attention—was now the epicenter of it.

"He’s still wearing that blindfold. Is he trying to make a statement or something?"

"Or maybe he’s just weird. He looks like he walked out of a monastery."

"I bet he doesn’t even have mana."

Some scoffed. Others whispered. A few laughed outright.

Then came the group Kaidën had sensed earlier—a cluster of well-dressed students, exuding arrogance like perfume. One stepped forward. He was tall, draped in royal blue, his boots spotless, his aura overly loud.

He sneered. "Hey. Beggar." His voice projected so others could hear. "This isn’t charity hour. Get lost before you embarrass the Western Continent."

The crowd burst into laughter.

Kaidën simply turned his head slightly, as if hearing a distant sound.

Then came his reply—quiet but sharp.

"You’re already doing that for both of us."

Silence.

A few gasps. Then, the laughter changed—no longer mockery, but shock.

"Oooooooh—!"

Several students looked back and forth between the two, waiting for the noble boy to erupt. His face turned crimson, his pride visibly cracking under Kaidën’s calm insult.

"You little—!"

BOOOOM.

A tidal wave of pressure crashed into the training ground. Like thunder wrapped in raw magic, it flattened the laughter in an instant. Everyone’s knees buckled. Some collapsed entirely.

From the highest tower of the academy, a figure descended slowly, as if gravity itself bowed to him.

A man dressed in robes of twilight—deep purple and shadowy black—landed without sound. His long, silver hair drifted in the wind. His eyes were like dark stars: emotionless and endless.

The Headmaster.

Every student, even the proudest ones, dropped to a knee instinctively.

Except Kaidën.

He remained upright.

Assessing.

The Headmaster’s gaze swept over the sea of new faces like a hawk. Then it paused—just for a moment—on Kaidën.

But he said nothing of it.

"I am Headmaster Ryvor," he said, his voice low, yet it echoed clearly across the wide courtyard. "Let me be clear—this year’s class is not expected to survive."

A cold shiver ran through the students.

"There are no second chances. Fail, and you are expelled—or worse. Only strength and brilliance will carve your name into the legacy of Emberforge."

He raised one arm, pointing toward the giant wall at the far end of the platform, where rows of glowing names began to shimmer magically into existence.

"The exam will begin shortly. Head to your assigned number. Your future waits."

And just like that—he vanished. A flicker of violet light, and he was gone.

****

Students rushed to the crystal wall.

Names flew across the surface like sparks before settling into order.

"Dorm Luxia... Dorm Solstice... Dorm Flamehowl..."

Each name brought cheers, groans, or prideful nods. Then—

"Wait... who’s in Dorm Obsidian?"

Silence.

That name hadn’t appeared in years.

Everyone had heard the rumors. Dorm Obsidian wasn’t just neglected—it was feared. It sat on the shadowed edge of the academy, a towering structure black as coal and cold as death. Some said students who entered it... never graduated. Others claimed it was where the academy dumped the cursed, the dangerous, or the hopeless.

Then the final name appeared.

Kaidën Valtorin – Dorm Obsidian

It was like dropping a rock into still water.

The whispers returned. Fierce now.

"He got dumped into the haunted dorm?"

"I thought he was just blind. Maybe he’s cursed, too."

"What a joke..."

But Kaidën simply exhaled.

No anger. No confusion.

Only peace.

"...Dorm Obsidian?" he said aloud, like tasting the name.

He chuckled under his breath.

"Zarel would’ve loved this."

Without another word, he turned and walked—past the whispers, the stares, the judgment. Toward the dark spire that loomed at the edge of Emberforge.

Each step echoed across the stone tiles.

And still... he smiled.

****

The sun had barely crested the horizon when Kaidën stepped back through the heavy oak doors of Dorm Obsidian, his quill and ink still tucked away from the morning’s Writing Exam. All that remained between him and a full year’s worth of peace was the Practical Trials—and that was where Emberforge Academy revealed its true nature.

How the Practicals Work

Every student competes in a best‐of‐five, one‑on‑one duel within their chosen discipline—martial arts, magic, or alchemy. You step into your allotted ring, face your opponent head‑on, and fight until one of you claims two victories. Win two matches and you advance; failure to win at least 2 out of 5 and you’re relegated to the losers’ bracket, fighting simply to survive and maybe your written exams can save you from failing to pass the admission. Should you sweep all five duels (five wins, no losses), you earn the right to face another undefeated contender—proving you’re not just good in your bracket, but among the absolute best. Only the departmental champion then moves on to the Grand Trial, where martial’s finest and magic’s mightiest clash for the honor of representing Emberforge before the Everwood Council.

Why It Matters

This isn’t just schoolwork—your performance tomorrow will echo through your entire life.

Achieve three wins and one draw, and you secure your place in C‑class, a middle‐tier rank where you have a modest room shared with three peers, a red‑and‑black uniform marking you as the Academy’s reliable backbone. Miss that mark and you slip into

D‑class, cramped into a yellow‑uniform dorm with five roommates, one step from expulsion. Rise higher, however, and you enter

B‑class (black and silver uniforms, single rooms, specialized tutors), or even

A‑class (white and gold, private quarters rivaling small estates, personal maids, and lessons from 7th–8th grade experts).

Each tier brings privileges, prestige, and power—while failures are remembered, promotions celebrated, and graduates funneled into the Royal Army to serve their kingdoms for two final years before graduation.

****

But as for kaidën who has no desire to lead the headlines—he simply wants to live quietly, unseen. He chose C‑class, not out of humility, but strategy: three wins and one draw is all he needs to cement his status. He only had to use less than 0.1% of his power inother to even be at the top. Anymore and he could kill the kids.

He planned to dispatch any over‑eager challenger, yet pale in comparison to his hidden depths. It’s a delicate dance: win enough to stay safe, lose enough to stay off the radar, and prepare for whatever storm lies beyond these walls.

Tomorrow, when the Practical Trials begin at dawn, every blade will gleam, every incantation spark, and every student’s fate will hang on the outcome of five merciless rounds.

To be continued...