Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra - Chapter 900: Orient (2)

Chapter 900: Orient (2)

Selenne’s cloak swayed with the shift of her stride as she led them forward, the sea of first-years flowing after her like a tide drawn toward the center spire.

The main lecture hall’s great doors loomed ahead—arched silversteel frames inlaid with strips of crystal that pulsed faintly, as though acknowledging their approach. When they opened, it was not with the groan of hinges, but a soft glide, mana-fed and soundless.

Inside, the scale was even more staggering.

The central atrium rose several floors high, the ceiling a dome of etched glass that filtered sunlight into rippling patterns across polished marble. Wide corridors radiated outward like spokes, each marked with suspended glyph-plaques indicating the wings they led to.

Selenne slowed only slightly, enough for her voice to carry. “This hall will be your second home—if you are wise enough to use it well.”

She lifted one hand toward the leftmost corridor. “Student Affairs—applications, course adjustments, dormitory petitions, and the unfortunate but necessary bureaucracies that keep this place functional.”

A few students chuckled; others already wore the faintly grim expressions of those imagining long waits in line.

“The Disciplinary Committee,” she continued, indicating an imposing set of darkwood doors farther along the same hall, “is exactly what it sounds like. If you stand before them, you have likely made a poor decision. They are efficient. They are thorough. And they do not care whose child you are.”

That last line carried a subtle weight—enough to still a few murmurs from the back of the group.

Selenne turned slightly, her gesture sweeping to the opposite wing. “The Student Council offices are there. They oversee interdepartmental events, represent student interests before the faculty, and manage certain privileges. You will not find them here today—they are attending a summit in Virellen Province—but you will meet them soon enough.”

At that, a few heads tilted with interest. Elara caught the twins exchanging quick glances, no doubt already imagining what sort of people claimed such authority. Marian seemed thoughtful, weighing the idea more than the spectacle.

“Beyond that,” Selenne said, letting her gaze pass deliberately over the crowd, “you will discover the rest in time. Part of your education here will be learning to navigate without a hand always pointing the way. This place is large enough to lose yourself in—metaphorically or otherwise.”

From somewhere near Lucavion’s group, a student muttered, “Otherwise?”

Selenne didn’t pause. “The wards keep you safe from most accidents. Most.

The implication settled into a silence broken only by the soft echo of their steps as she moved them toward the inner lecture chambers. The air here felt subtly different—charged, but not in the volatile way of combat halls. More like standing in the quiet before a storm, when all the currents are waiting for the first strike of lightning.

Their footsteps carried them deeper into the main building until the wide corridors opened into a series of vast lecture halls.

Tiered seating curled around open platforms, chalkboards and mana-screens standing side by side. In several, the doors were cracked just enough for voices to leak out—measured cadences of professors mid-lecture, punctuated by the faint rustle of pages and the soft thrum of spell demonstrations.

Selenne didn’t linger. “These,” she said simply, “are where you will spend much of your time. Observe them later. Today, you only need to know where they are.”

They moved on, her pace unbroken.

Within minutes, the procession spilled back into sunlight, crossing a long stone bridge that arched over a slow-moving channel of water. Beyond it, the campus shifted—its ordered geometry loosening into clusters of buildings shaped for very different purposes.

“This,” Selenne announced as they entered, “is the Magicians’ department.”

The first structure loomed ahead—its walls etched with layer upon layer of runes, glowing faintly with residual wards. To one side, a broad training ground stretched out, its air shimmering with heat from a controlled firestorm.

“Here, offensive magic is honed,” Selenne continued, her hand sweeping across the array of open courts. In one, mechanical constructs—nothing more than articulated frames of steel and crystal—were being struck by bolts of lightning, their limbs jerking and twisting under the force. In another, a tiered formation of floating orbs launched waves of flame at an empty target square, each burst intercepted by a rotating barrier of ice.

Farther along, an enclosed yard held the defensive training arrays—half-domes of energy rising and falling in sequence, each tinted to the color of the element they resisted. Students there stood behind the shimmering barriers, testing their strength against conjured blasts from automated arrays that fired in precise, punishing intervals.

“Practice is split between field application and controlled environment,” Selenne explained. “Both are necessary. One tempers your technique; the other tempers your mind.”

To the rear of the grounds stood a tall, austere hall lined with windows—the Theory Wing. Its entrance faced another set of buildings that shared the same pale stone but lacked the aura of active casting.

“That,” Selenne said, nodding toward them, “is the Scholars’ annex. Many scholars specialize in magic theory but lack the necessary affinity or constitution to wield it themselves. Their work informs what Magicians do here—and often, it corrects it.”

Elara’s eyes traced the proximity between the two—how easily a student could leave a heated training bout and walk straight into a hall of research. Close enough to share knowledge,

Somewhere off to her right, one of the twins muttered, “So basically the smart ones and the flashy ones live side by side.”

The other snorted. “Guess which one we are.”

Selenne’s head tilted the barest fraction—just enough to make both twins glance away quickly.

Aurelian gave a low hum behind Elara, his voice pitched just enough for their group to hear.

“Well, that explains why the Scholars always look like they’re judging you when you walk past. They’re probably calculating how many mistakes you’re making in real time.”

Selphine didn’t even look at him. “They don’t need to calculate. For some people, the number is constant.”

Marian let out a small laugh, the sound soft but genuine. “Still… having them so close to the training fields must make collaboration easier. If they can actually get along, that is.”

“They usually can’t,” Selenne said, not breaking stride. The response was so even, so factual, that it drew a small ripple of chuckles from the students close enough to catch it.

She led them past another set of practice yards until the architecture shifted again. Here, the buildings were smaller, their walls less adorned but their doors marked with embossed sigils of faculty rank.

“This,” Selenne said, gesturing toward the long arc of connected structures, “is the Professors’ wing. Each department’s senior staff keep offices here, along with archives and secured storage for research. My own office,” she added without flourish, “is in the northernmost tower. If you must find me outside class, that is where you will knock. Once.”

Aurelian’s brows lifted slightly at the unspoken warning in her tone. Elara caught the faint smirk tugging at his mouth, but for once he didn’t test it aloud.

They moved on, cutting across a shaded colonnade that opened into a quieter courtyard. Low, uniform buildings ringed the space, their doors spaced evenly apart and marked only by small number plates.

“These,” Selenne said, “are cultivation rooms. You will use them to refine your mana control, strengthen your core, and, for some of you, to remember how to sit still for more than a minute.”

That last remark earned a muted groan from somewhere in the twins’ direction.

“There are many such rooms throughout the Academy,” she went on, “but they are not all equal. Higher-density mana chambers, specialized elemental environments, or rooms with enhanced time dilation—those are reserved for upper-ranked students and those who have demonstrated consistent performance.”

Marian raised a hand slightly. “Performance in classwork, or…?”

“Both,” Selenne replied. “Academic excellence and practical skill are weighed together. This is not a place where brilliance in one will excuse mediocrity in the other.”

Selphine’s voice was quiet but edged with amusement. “So no coasting on talent, then.”

“Not if you wish to stay here long,” Selenne said. Her eyes swept the gathered faces, sharp but not unkind. “Merit earns opportunity. That is the simplest law you will learn here.”