The Academy¡¯s Grand Library was as massive as it was intimidating. Towering shelves stretched high above, filled with books bound in everything from simple leather to enchanted metal. Soft light from floating orbs illuminated the vast space, casting long shadows over the students gathered near the entrance.
At the center of the main hall stood an enormous bulletin board, its surface covered in parchment listings of every available course. Dozens of students crowded around it, murmuring as they scanned the options. Some were already marking their choices, while others debated in hushed voices.
Ren, Leo, and a handful of other first-years stepped closer, their gazes sweeping over the board. The list was overwhelming¡ªhundreds of classes covering different magical disciplines, combat training, theoretical studies, and specialized fields.
¡°Damn,¡± Leo muttered. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect this many choices.¡±
Before Ren could reply, a haughty voice cut through the chatter.
¡°Not that it matters for you lot.¡±
A blond noble with a sharp, arrogant smirk stood just to their right, arms crossed. His robes were embroidered with the sigil of House Veldren, a mid-ranking noble family. Several other nobles stood behind him, smirking in amusement.
Ren already disliked him.
The noble continued, his tone mockingly slow. ¡°See, class selection isn¡¯t as simple as just writing your name down. There are limited spots, and priority goes to those of higher standing. The better the class, the harder it is to get in. First picks go to royals, then high nobles, then mid-tier nobles¡ and commoners? Well.¡± He gave them a pitying glance. ¡°You¡¯ll be lucky to get anything worthwhile.¡±
Leo tensed beside Ren. ¡°And who decided that?¡±
The noble shrugged. ¡°Tradition. If you want better spots, maybe you should¡¯ve been born into a better family.¡± He turned away with a smirk. ¡°Just thought you should know before you waste your time.¡±
Ren exhaled slowly. He could already hear some of the commoners behind him whispering in worry. If class selection was truly based on status, then most of them would be locked out of important courses before they even started.
¡°Guess that means we have to be fast,¡± Leo muttered.
¡°Faster than nobles who¡¯ve already had their choices lined up for years?¡± Ren said dryly.
Leo grinned. ¡°That just means we have to be smarter.¡±
A familiar voice spoke up behind them.
¡°Enjoying yourselves?¡±
Ren turned to see Davian leaning against a bookshelf, arms crossed, his usual unimpressed expression in place.
¡°You again,¡± Leo said, but there was no real bite to it.
Davian rolled his eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t sound so thrilled.¡± He nodded toward the bulletin board. ¡°If you¡¯re done wasting time, we should grab our choices before the nobles fill everything.¡±
Ren stared at the massive board, his eyes scanning the hundreds of parchment slips pinned across its surface. The class options stretched from the obvious¡ªElemental Magic, Runic Theory, and Combat Training¡ªto the obscure, like Curse Manipulation and Etheric Channeling. Some classes had clear prerequisites, demanding prior knowledge in specific fields, while others were open to anyone daring enough to attempt them.
Leo let out a long whistle beside him. ¡°Okay. Yeah. This is a lot.¡±
Davian, already a step ahead, smirked. ¡°That¡¯s an understatement. Half these classes might as well be death sentences for anyone without a noble family¡¯s backing.¡± He gestured toward a slip labeled War Mage Tactics. ¡°Bet you anything it¡¯s filled with heirs of knightly houses.¡±
This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
He took a slow breath and started narrowing down his options.
Magic Fundamentals was mandatory, so there was no need to dwell on it. It would cover basic spell construction, mana theory, and structured casting¡ªthings he already had a strong grasp of, but he wasn¡¯t arrogant enough to think he could skip the foundations considering his self-learned knowledge was nothing compared to the extensive tutoring nobles got since birth.
Runic Theory & Application caught his eye next. This was the foundation of crafting magical objects, from enchanted weapons to intricate mana-infused artifacts. It was a field dominated by noble families who had passed down perfected sigils for generations, giving them a massive head start. But the ability to craft his own enchanted tools was too valuable to ignore.
More than that, studying runes would bring him closer to creating his own sigils. He still couldn¡¯t form them yet, but mastering their construction was a crucial step. With his photographic memory, he could already analyze and recall sigils with ease¡ªif he could also learn to design them, he might finally start catching up to the nobles.
Elemental Control & Channeling was another necessary step. Even if it wasn¡¯t his primary focus, elemental magic was too widely used to ignore. It was also one of the easiest ways to manipulate the environment in combat. He¡¯d read that even mages with weaker mana reserves could use elemental techniques effectively if they had precise control. Given that his own mana pool was small compared to nobles, refining his control could help offset that disadvantage.
Body Enhancement & Combat Training gave him more pause. He had never focused much on physical combat, and the idea of reinforcing his body with magic was something that felt secondary compared to pure spellcasting. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. He was at a disadvantage in raw magical output, which meant he couldn¡¯t afford to rely purely on offensive spells. If he could strengthen his body, even just a little, he could last longer in a fight. Besides, knowing how to defend himself was never a bad thing.
Summoning Arts & Constructs was a wildcard. It was a field that fascinated him¡ªmages who specialized in summoning could call forth familiars, create magical constructs, and even bind spirits to their will. It was one of the more complex magical disciplines, requiring intricate sigil work and strong mental control. The problem was that it was mana-intensive, and Ren wasn¡¯t sure if his reserves would be enough to make it viable. But the potential advantages were too good to ignore. If he could figure out how to summon something useful without overexerting himself, it could act as a force multiplier.
He glanced around and noticed Leo watching him, arms crossed.
¡°You¡¯re thinking too hard,¡± Leo said.
¡°I¡¯d rather not regret my choices later.¡±
Leo smirked. ¡°I mean, yeah, but you¡¯ve been staring at that board for ten minutes. Just pick what feels right.¡±
Ren shook his head. ¡°Easy for you to say. You¡¯re just going to pick whatever sounds fun.¡±
¡°And I¡¯ll still be fine,¡± Leo said, completely confident. ¡°We both know I¡¯m going Combat Training and Elemental Magic first.¡±
Davian scoffed from beside them. ¡°Figured as much. But you might want to think ahead. Most first-years burn themselves out trying to do too much at once.¡±
Ren exhaled. He had already narrowed it down to five classes, but even that felt like a gamble. Too few, and he¡¯d fall behind. Too many, and he risked stretching himself too thin. But there was no perfect answer. The only way forward was to commit.
He reached for one of the empty parchments on the nearby desk, picking up a quill. Carefully, he wrote down his choices, feeling the weight of each one as the ink dried on the page.
When he was finished, he followed Leo and Davian toward the librarian¡¯s desk.
The man waiting for them was nothing like Ren had expected.
He was old, his wrinkled hands folded neatly over the desk, but his eyes held a sharpness that didn¡¯t match his frail appearance. His robe was simple, free of the elaborate embroidery that noble instructors wore, and his demeanor lacked the arrogance Ren had grown accustomed to. He adjusted his glasses as they approached, giving them a slow, knowing look.
¡°First-years,¡± the librarian mused, taking their parchments. ¡°Always the most interesting part of the year.¡±
He glanced over their selections, humming softly. When his gaze flicked up to Ren¡¯s, there was something unreadable in it.
¡°You have an ambitious schedule.¡±
Ren didn¡¯t look away. ¡°I can handle it.¡±
The librarian chuckled. ¡°I suppose we¡¯ll see.¡± He turned to Leo and Davian, scanning their choices with the same level of scrutiny. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he pressed his seal onto each parchment.
Something was off.
Ren saw it immediately¡ªhis name, along with Leo¡¯s and Davian¡¯s, had been shifted higher in the selection order. Not by much. Just enough to push them above where they should have been.
His eyes flicked back to the librarian.
The old man smiled, a glint of amusement in his gaze. ¡°You didn¡¯t see anything, of course.¡±
Ren hesitated, then gave a slight nod.
Leo grinned. ¡°I like this guy.¡±
Davian smirked. ¡°At least someone in this place has common sense.¡±
The librarian chuckled. ¡°Just don¡¯t waste the opportunity. The Academy isn¡¯t kind to those who fall behind.¡±
Ren knew that better than anyone.
As they turned to leave, he exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of his choices settle on him again.
The classes were just the beginning. The real challenge was still ahead.
Chapter 11
Chapter 11
After the class selection process was finalized, Ren and Leo were directed toward the dormitory halls, where first-year students would be staying. The Academy grounds were vast, but the student housing was concentrated in three massive stone buildings near the western side of the campus, each one towering several stories high.
A clerk in dark robes handed them small, engraved plates with their room numbers as they approached.
"Ren Kellan, Leo Varis¡ªRoom 317," the clerk announced without looking up. "Your belongings have already been transferred. Next."
Ren took the plate, running his fingers over the etched numbers.
Leo peeked over his shoulder. "Guess we''re roommates."
"Not surprising," Ren said. It made sense for commoners to be grouped together, and since they had entered the Academy under the same conditions, the instructors likely saw no reason to separate them.
A few steps behind them, Davian stepped forward to receive his own room assignment.
"Room 403," the clerk stated, moving briskly through the list.
Leo turned. "Different dorm?"
Davian scoffed. "Obviously. The Academy wouldn''t want us getting too comfortable, now would they?" He took his plate and walked past them toward the stairs. "See you tomorrow¡ªassuming you don¡¯t get lost in this mess."
Leo muttered, "He''s really gotta work on his people skills."
Ren smirked but didn¡¯t comment. Instead, he focused on navigating the halls, following the engraved metal plaques that marked the room numbers. The dormitory was surprisingly well-maintained, with polished wooden floors and softly glowing mana lamps lining the stone walls. The sheer size of the building made it feel more like a fortress than student housing, but the muted noise of footsteps and muffled conversations gave it a strangely lived-in atmosphere.
As they walked, they passed other students settling in¡ªsome unpacking, others already deep in conversation. A few nobles shot them indifferent glances, while the commoners mostly kept to themselves, either cautious or exhausted from the day¡¯s events.
After turning down a final corridor, they reached their room: 317.
Ren inserted the engraved plate into a small indentation in the door. A faint glow pulsed, and the lock clicked open.
Inside, the room was modest but functional. Two neatly made beds sat against opposite walls, with a shared wooden desk in between. A small wardrobe stood against one corner, while a tall window overlooked the courtyard below, the last rays of sunlight casting long shadows across the floor.
Leo let out a low whistle. "Alright, not bad."
He immediately flopped onto his bed, bouncing slightly. "I half expected straw mats and stone floors."
Ren set his bag down and gave the room another quick scan. The Academy wasn¡¯t particularly generous, but there were no restrictive enchantments or surveillance spells¡ªat least, none that were immediately visible. That meant the dorms were meant to be private, which was a rare luxury.
"Looks like we''re on our own here," Ren noted.
Leo grinned. "Good. Means no one can stop us from smuggling in snacks."
Ren rolled his eyes but allowed himself a small smile. He moved toward the window, glancing down. The courtyard below was still active, with students milling about, some chatting, others practicing small spells or comparing notes. There was a palpable energy in the air, a mix of excitement and tension.
Leo sat up. "You think Davian got stuck with some annoying noble as a roommate?"
"Probably," Ren said. "Maybe that¡¯s why he left so fast."
Leo snorted. "Poor guy. Almost feel bad for him."
They spent the next half-hour unpacking, sorting their belongings into their respective wardrobes. Ren¡¯s things were minimal¡ªmostly books, spare clothes, and a few enchanted tools his father had given him. Leo, on the other hand, had already spread out a mess of personal items across his desk, including a set of well-used practice gloves and a half-empty tin of sweets from home.
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Once they were finished, Ren sat on his bed, glancing at the parchment listing his schedule. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.
Leo yawned. "Alright, I¡¯m calling it. If we don¡¯t sleep now, we¡¯re gonna be useless tomorrow."
Ren agreed. He lay back, staring at the wooden ceiling, listening to the distant murmurs of students in the halls. It was strange¡ªdespite everything, he didn¡¯t feel nervous. If anything, excitement burned just beneath his skin.
Tomorrow would be the true beginning.
_________________________________________________________________________
The sound of distant bells echoed through the dormitory, signaling the start of the first official day.
Ren opened his eyes immediately, his internal clock already preparing him for the long schedule ahead. Across the room, Leo groaned loudly and pulled a pillow over his face.
"Nope. Too early."
Ren sat up and stretched, the cool morning air filtering in from the slightly open window. The Academy was already buzzing with activity, students moving through the courtyard below, preparing for their first classes.
"Come on," Ren said. "You don¡¯t want to be late on the first day."
Leo made a grumbling noise but eventually dragged himself out of bed.
A few minutes later, a sharp knock came at the door.
Ren opened it to find an Academy attendant standing there, holding two sealed envelopes.
"Schedules for the day. Breakfast is served in the dining hall. Don¡¯t be late."
He handed them the envelopes and left without another word.
Leo tore his open immediately. "Alright, let¡¯s see¡ªyep, Magic Theory first, then we split up.You got and i got Body Enhancement Looks like we meet again for Elemental Magic. After that, I¡¯ve got Combat Tactics, and you¡¯re off to¡" He squinted. "Alchemy? Really?"
Ren sighed. "It¡¯s important."
Leo smirked. "You say that now, but wait till your hands start smelling like burnt herbs."
Ren shook his head, but he couldn¡¯t deny he was looking forward to the day ahead
_________________________________________________________________________
The Academy dining hall was a sprawling, high-ceilinged chamber filled with the hum of conversation and the clatter of plates. Long tables stretched from one end to the other, already packed with students enjoying their first meal of the day. Overhead, enchanted chandeliers bathed the hall in warm light, while large arched windows let in the early morning sun.
Ren and Leo stepped inside, trays in hand, scanning the room for a familiar face.
¡°There,¡± Leo said, nodding toward one of the side tables.
Davian sat alone near the far wall, absently cutting into a piece of bread while reading over a crumpled parchment¡ªhis schedule, most likely.
They made their way over, setting their trays down across from him.
Davian barely looked up. ¡°Took you long enough.¡±
Leo smirked. ¡°And here I thought you¡¯d be stuck with some pompous noble as a roommate.¡±
Davian snorted. ¡°No such luck. I¡¯m in one of the overflow dorms for ¡®unaffiliated students,¡¯ as they so kindly put it.¡±
Ren raised an eyebrow. ¡°Unaffiliated?¡±
Davian gave him a flat look. ¡°Commoners.¡±
Leo frowned. ¡°Of course. They wouldn¡¯t want to mix you in with their precious noble heirs.¡±
Davian simply shrugged, returning to his food. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯m here, aren¡¯t I?¡±
Ren took his schedule out and placed it on the table. ¡°Might as well compare what we¡¯ve got.¡±
Leo did the same, and after a brief moment, Davian sighed and pulled his own parchment closer.
Ren ran his eyes over their schedules, scanning for overlaps.
¡°Looks like Magic Theory is mandatory for all of us,¡± he said, tapping his parchment. ¡°So we¡¯ll be together for that.¡±
Leo nodded. ¡°And we¡¯re in the same Elemental Magic class.¡± He turned to Davian. ¡°What about you?¡±
¡°Different instructor,¡± Davian replied, glancing at his list. ¡°I¡¯ve got Force Magic and Combat Tactics after that.¡±
Ren noted that down mentally. ¡°I have Alchemy and Runic Theory in the afternoon.¡±
Leo chuckled. ¡°Can¡¯t believe you¡¯re actually doing alchemy.¡±
Ren shrugged, taking a bite of his breakfast before replying. ¡°It¡¯s useful. Potions, elixirs, magical reagents¡ªyou¡¯d be surprised how much of magic relies on alchemical principles.¡±
Leo made a face. ¡°Yeah, yeah, but it just sounds¡ slow. Mixing herbs and waiting for stuff to boil?¡±
Davian snorted. ¡°That¡¯s because you¡¯re an idiot. Alchemy is one of the most profitable disciplines out there. You think nobles want to get their hands dirty in dungeons? No, they pay alchemists to make them stronger.¡± He glanced at Ren. ¡°Not a bad choice.¡±
Leo huffed. ¡°Yeah, well, I¡¯ll stick to hitting things really hard.¡± He tapped his schedule again. ¡°After that, I¡¯ve got Magical Beasts & Ecology, then a free period.¡±
Ren checked his own list. ¡°I¡¯ve got Runic Theory & Application after Alchemy, then a free period too.¡±
Davian raised a brow. ¡°Runic Theory, huh? Ambitious. You¡¯re going to be dealing with a lot of nobles in that class.¡±
Ren smirked. ¡°I know.¡±
Leo stretched. ¡°Alright, so we¡¯ve got Magic Theory and Elemental Magic together, but everything else is separate.¡±
Davian leaned back, crossing his arms. ¡°Means we¡¯ll have to compare notes. Some of these classes are bound to be stacked against us.¡±
Leo grinned. ¡°Then we just prove we belong here.¡±
Ren glanced at his schedule once more, feeling a mix of excitement and anticipation. Their real journey was about to begin.
End of Chapter
Chapter 12
Chapter 12
The morning air was crisp as Ren made his way to his first class of the day¡ªMagic Theory. The Academy halls bustled with students, some moving purposefully while others lingered in small groups, chatting or anxiously reviewing notes.
Leo walked beside him, yawning. "First day, and they¡¯re already making us wake up early. This is cruel."
Ren smirked. "You should¡¯ve slept earlier."
Leo shot him a glare. "Says the guy who was up just as late. You kept mumbling about sigils in your sleep, by the way."
Ren rolled his eyes but didn¡¯t deny it. The excitement of finally learning magic properly had kept his mind racing well into the night.
The lecture hall for Magic Theory was one of the larger ones, filled with long rows of wooden desks arranged in a semi-circle around a raised platform. The moment they stepped inside, Ren felt the weight of countless eyes on them. Most students had already arrived, chatting among themselves. The nobles sat in the best spots¡ªfront and center¡ªwhile commoners took the edges or found themselves forced to the back.
Ren and Leo found a pair of seats in the middle. A few minutes later, a sharp voice silenced the room.
Instructor Bernard entered, his presence alone enough to command attention. Without preamble, he launched into the lesson.
"Magic Theory is the foundation upon which all sorcery is built. Without understanding, power is meaningless." He wrote a series of complex sigils on the board. "Today, we will be covering the nature of mana flow and how different schools of magic manipulate it."
Ren sat up, fully engaged. As the lecture continued, he scribbled notes with precision, absorbing every word. He noticed that, unsurprisingly, the nobles had an easier time keeping up, their backgrounds providing them with prior knowledge.
Leo, for all his complaining, was attentive, though he occasionally shot Ren exasperated looks whenever the explanations got too dense.
When class finally ended, Leo groaned. "That was a lot for a first lesson."
"You¡¯ll survive," Ren said, standing and stretching. "Now we split up. You¡¯ve got Body Enhancement, and I¡¯ve got Alchemy."
Leo snickered. "Don¡¯t blow yourself up."
Ren ignored him and made his way toward the alchemy classroom.
The Alchemy wing of the Academy had an odd scent¡ªearthy herbs mixed with sharp, acrid notes. Despite being less lavish than the other departments, the classrooms were still impressive. Rows of workstations lined the walls, each equipped with cauldrons, glassware, and enchanted burners.
The professor, a wiry man with ink-stained hands, introduced himself as Master Garek. "Alchemy is more than mixing ingredients and hoping for the best," he said, eyes scanning the students. "It is the precise science of magic, requiring control, intellect, and patience."
Ren found himself drawn to the subject immediately. While he had little experience, the structured nature of alchemy reminded him of sigils¡ªrules, patterns, and refinement.
The first task was simple: brewing a minor rejuvenation potion. Some students fumbled with measurements, while others, particularly the nobles, worked with practiced ease. Ren focused, following the instructions precisely. His potion wasn¡¯t perfect, but it was close.
As he cleaned up, he noticed the quality disparity among the equipment. While usable, some workstations were clearly older models. It wasn¡¯t outright neglect, but the difference between this and, say, the Elemental Magic department was clear.
Still, he learned something valuable: Alchemy rewarded precision.
After lunch, Ren met up with Leo and Davian outside their Elemental Magic class.
"How was punching things for an hour?" Ren asked.
Leo grinned. "Fantastic. You should¡¯ve seen me¡ªnatural talent. The instructor said I had a real knack for it."
Davian rolled his eyes. "He said you had potential, not that you were a prodigy."
"Same thing."
Ren shook his head in amusement as they entered the Elemental Magic hall.
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The moment they stepped inside, the air shifted. The class was larger than the others, and the instructor¡ªa tall, severe-looking noble with a sharp gaze¡ªstood at the front.
"Welcome," he said. "I am Professor Callidus. This is not a class for the weak or the incompetent. Elemental Magic is power, and power does not tolerate failure."
Leo muttered, "Sounds friendly."
Callidus continued. "You will demonstrate your current aptitude immediately. Form a basic elemental sigil¡ªany element you prefer."
Whispers ran through the class. Some students looked nervous, others confident. Nobles stepped forward first, their sigils forming smoothly, though with varying degrees of strength.
Ren exhaled slowly. He had studied elemental sigils before, even if he hadn¡¯t formed one himself. Now was the time to see if he could replicate it.
His fingers traced the lines of the fire sigil, carefully channeling his mana. The glowing shape formed¡ªunstable, flickering¡ªbut it held. A small flame sputtered to life before vanishing.
Not perfect, but progress.
Davian, beside him, formed a water sigil with better control, a small sphere of water floating briefly before splashing to the ground.
Leo, grinning, chose lightning. His sigil crackled, a faint spark jumping between his fingers before fizzling out.
Professor Callidus¡¯s eyes swept over them. "Adequate," he said, clearly unimpressed. "You will improve. Or you will fail."
Ren resisted the urge to roll his eyes. So that was how this class was going to be.
After the grueling Elemental Magic session, Ren made his way to the Runic Magic classroom. Unlike the grand lecture halls or combat arenas, this space was quieter¡ªlined with workbenches covered in half-etched sigils, enchanted tools, and shimmering scraps of failed rune engravings.
The instructor, a middle-aged man with a neatly trimmed beard and an air of quiet authority, stood at the front. "Runic Magic is not for the impatient," he began. "It is the art of permanence¡ªwhere magic is bound, stored, and shaped into lasting form."
Ren immediately straightened in his seat, hanging onto every word.
"As beginners, you will not be forming complex sigils yet. Your first task is to engrave a basic mana-conducting rune onto a surface¡ªwood, stone, or metal. The goal is simple: make it stable."
That was easier said than done. Engraving a sigil wasn¡¯t just about drawing the right shape¡ªit was about channeling mana into it correctly. If done wrong, the rune would be inert at best¡ and explode at worst.
Nobles had an advantage here, many of them having worked with runes before. Ren, however, had only studied them, never attempted actual engraving.
He chose a small metal plate as his medium, steadied his breathing, and started the process. His fingers traced the first strokes of the sigil, mana flowing carefully into each line. The metal vibrated faintly beneath his touch.
Around him, some students struggled, their runes flickering or failing to hold mana. Others¡ªparticularly the more experienced nobles¡ªfinished quickly, their sigils glowing with controlled energy.
Ren wasn¡¯t the first to finish, but he wasn¡¯t the last either. His rune glowed steadily¡ªa stable success.
The instructor observed his work, nodding approvingly. "Well-formed. Your control is precise. Continue refining it."
Ren exhaled, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction. He wasn¡¯t just memorizing sigils anymore¡ªhe was making them.
As class ended, he lingered for a moment, already eager to push further. Runic Magic wasn¡¯t just about following rules. If he could master it, he could create something truly his own.
With that thought, he finally headed to meet up with Leo and Davian for dinner.
_________________________________________________________________________
Ren made his way to the dining hall, the scent of roasted meat and freshly baked bread filling the air. He spotted Leo and Davian at a table near the center, already halfway through their meals.
"Finally," Leo said, waving him over. "I was about to eat your share."
"Wouldn¡¯t be the first time," Ren said dryly, setting down his tray.
Davian leaned back in his chair, smirking. "So? How was Runic Magic?"
Ren took a bite of his food before answering. "Interesting. Difficult. But I managed."
Leo snorted. "You say that like you didn¡¯t ace it."
"Didn¡¯t ace it," Ren corrected. "But I didn¡¯t fail either. Engraving is harder than I thought."
Davian raised an eyebrow. "Most commoners can¡¯t even form a stable rune on their first try."
Ren shrugged, not bothering to comment.
Leo stretched. "Well, Illusion Magic was¡ weird. Lots of theory. Apparently, mastering illusions is less about the magic itself and more about how you manipulate perception. The instructor kept going on about how ¡®a proper illusionist doesn¡¯t cast spells¡ªthey tell stories.¡¯"
"Sounds frustrating," Davian said.
Leo groaned. "It was." He turned to Ren. "How was Alchemy?"
Ren hesitated, sorting through his thoughts. "Not bad. The facility isn¡¯t as well-funded as Elemental or Runic Magic, but the instructor knew what he was talking about. We started with basic potion mixing¡ªnot just magic, but the chemistry behind it. Honestly, I think I¡¯ll like it."
Leo made a face. "Can¡¯t relate."
Davian smirked. "Because you have the patience of a brick."
Leo rolled his eyes but didn¡¯t argue.
They continued eating, discussing their first day¡ªwho had the worst instructor, which nobles were already throwing their weight around, and what to expect moving forward.
As the meal wound down, Ren leaned back, stretching. "Tomorrow¡¯s going to be harder."
"Obviously," Leo said. "But that¡¯s fine. We¡¯re here to get stronger, right?"
Davian raised his cup. "To surviving the first week, then."
Ren and Leo clinked their drinks against his.
With that, the first day at the Academy came to an end
Chapter 13
Chapter 13
The days at the Academy blurred into a steady rhythm.
Mornings began with Magic Theory, the one class all students were required to take. While some of their classmates groaned about the lectures, Ren found them fascinating. The professor¡ªan aging scholar with an encyclopedic knowledge of magic¡ªdove deep into the mechanics of mana flow, spell formations, and the intricate relationships between different magical disciplines.
Ren absorbed it all like a sponge. His photographic memory made recalling information effortless, but understanding the underlying principles required actual effort. The discussions on mana efficiency and spell layering particularly caught his attention¡ªcould sigils be optimized the same way spells were layered? He hadn¡¯t worked out the answer yet, but the idea nagged at him.
After Theory, they split up for their specialized classes.
Leo threw himself into Body Enhancement Magic with reckless enthusiasm. He quickly developed a reputation as a natural brawler, earning grudging respect from both his peers and their instructor. He wasn¡¯t the strongest or the fastest yet, but his ability to read movements and adapt in combat made him a formidable opponent. His side focus on Illusion Magic was progressing as well¡ªhe wasn¡¯t creating grand mirages yet, but his control over subtle distortions was improving.
Davian, on the other hand, was making waves in Force Magic. He had a raw, instinctive grasp of applying kinetic energy, something that became very clear when he accidentally sent a training dummy flying into the ceiling during their third lesson. His progress in Empyrean Magic was more reluctant¡ªhe was talented, but his disdain for its noble-centric ideology meant he only did what was necessary to pass.
As for Ren, his time was divided between Runic Magic, Nature Magic, and Alchemy.
Runic Magic was where he truly excelled. Though he still couldn¡¯t create sigils of his own, his understanding of their structure deepened with every lesson. The process of engraving runes into objects¡ªcrafting wands, reinforcing weapons, inscribing enchantments¡ªwas a slow, meticulous art. Ren¡¯s photographic memory and precise mana control made him an ideal student, but even he struggled with some of the more advanced techniques. Still, every time he successfully inscribed a rune, it felt like unlocking a piece of a much larger puzzle.
Nature Magic was a challenge of patience rather than knowledge. The fluidity of the discipline was difficult for someone so used to rigid systems, but he was adapting. Professor Ilvara had a way of guiding them without giving direct answers, forcing them to figure things out on their own. ¡°Nature doesn¡¯t rush, but it always moves forward,¡± she reminded him more than once.
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Alchemy, despite being an afterthought in his initial selection, turned out to be unexpectedly rewarding. The structured nature of potion-making appealed to him, and while the budget for the class was lower than others, the instructors were passionate. Ren found himself enjoying the methodical nature of ingredient preparation, the delicate balancing of reactions, and the small moments of triumph when a potion was brewed correctly.
But outside the classrooms, tensions were building.
The divide between nobles and commoners had always been present, but as the weeks passed, it became impossible to ignore.
Petty disputes turned into outright hostilities.
Commoners were deliberately excluded from study groups. Some found their materials tampered with. A few nobles went as far as using their influence to pressure instructors into favoring them during evaluations. Davian nearly got into a fistfight when a noble accused him of ¡°wasting a spot¡± in Empyrean Magic. Leo had to be physically restrained when he found a group of highborn students mocking a commoner who failed an advanced spell.
Ren wasn¡¯t exempt either. His performance in Runic Magic had drawn attention¡ªnot all of it welcome. Certain nobles saw him as an anomaly, a commoner excelling in a field they considered their birthright. More than once, he caught sneers and muttered insults as he worked, but he ignored them.
For now.
Because there was one event that could change everything.
The Summer Tournament.
It was the Academy¡¯s most anticipated competition, held every year before the summer break. Officially, it was meant to showcase the talents of young mages, a chance for students to test their skills in both combat and magical craftsmanship. But for the commoners, it was more than that.
It was an opportunity.
A high placement in the tournament meant recognition. It meant prestige. More importantly, it was one of the few ways a commoner could rise through the Academy¡¯s ranks without noble blood. The instructors and faculty had no choice but to acknowledge skill when it was displayed in front of the entire school.
Nobles, of course, treated the tournament as their personal stage. For them, it was a means of proving superiority¡ªboth to their peers and to the lesser-born students. They held nearly every advantage: better training, better resources, and years of preparation.
But that didn¡¯t mean they were untouchable.
Ren, Leo, and Davian had no illusions about their chances. They weren¡¯t prodigies. They weren¡¯t born into power. But they had talent, and more importantly, they had something to prove.
And as the days crept forward, as the tournament loomed ever closer, one thing became clear:
This was their chance to change everything.
Chapter 14
Chapter 14
One morning, an unexpected announcement was called.
The bell chimes echoed across the Academy grounds, summoning all students to the Grand Auditorium. The summons was unusual¡ªformal announcements weren¡¯t common unless something significant was happening.
Ren, Leo, and Davian were already making their way across the main courtyard when they overheard hushed voices nearby. A group of noble students, standing near the marble pillars of the courtyard, spoke in low tones, their conversation laced with amusement and self-assured confidence.
"You hear? The mid-terms are finally official," one of them muttered, his voice carrying just enough for Ren to pick up.
"Of course they are," another sneered. "We¡¯ve known about it for days."
Ren¡¯s steps slowed slightly. His eyes flickered to Leo and Davian, who had also caught onto the conversation.
"So it''s confirmed?" A noble girl leaned against the pillar, crossing her arms. "The rankings will be adjusted after the exams, and failures will be demoted?"
"That¡¯s what they¡¯re saying. Not that it matters for us¡ªwe¡¯ll pass without issue. But the commoners?" The boy laughed under his breath. "They¡¯ll be lucky to hold onto the scraps they¡¯ve been given."
Ren clenched his jaw. So that was how it was.
The nobles had gotten word before everyone else. It wasn¡¯t surprising. The Academy had always favored those of status, but hearing it so blatantly laid out was still grating.
"Come on," Davian said quietly. "Let¡¯s go."
Ren didn¡¯t argue. They continued toward the auditorium, leaving the nobles behind.
By the time they arrived, most of the student body had already gathered. The Grand Auditorium was a vast, circular space with tiered seating and a high domed ceiling enchanted to mimic the sky outside. At the very front, on a raised platform, stood several high-ranking Academy staff, their robes marked with gold embroidery.
At their center was Professor Aldric, the Vice Headmaster. His sharp blue eyes scanned the students before he spoke, his voice magically enhanced to carry through the hall.
"Students of the Academy, as you are all aware, our institution values excellence above all else. To that end, your Mid-Term Evaluations will take place in one month¡¯s time."
A murmur spread through the crowd.
"Your evaluations will test both theory and practical application, ensuring that all students meet the Academy¡¯s rigorous standards. Those who fail to demonstrate sufficient competence will be demoted in rank, with limited access to advanced classes and resources. Those who excel, however¡" Aldric¡¯s gaze swept over them, lingering on a few high-ranking nobles. "¡will be given priority for advanced courses, personalized training, and, of course, the opportunity to distinguish themselves before the Summer Tournament."
That caused a stronger reaction.
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The Summer Tournament was one of the only ways for commoners to rise in rank, as performance was all that mattered. It was the single greatest chance to prove that nobility wasn¡¯t the only path to power.
"The details of your exams will be provided by your instructors," Aldric continued. "Use this time wisely. Dismissed."
With that, the announcement ended, and the students immediately broke into discussions. Some looked confident, others nervous, but everyone understood the weight of what had just been said.
"One month, huh?" Leo exhaled, cracking his neck. "Not a lot of time."
"We don¡¯t need a lot of time," Davian muttered. "You either know your magic or you don¡¯t."
Ren didn¡¯t comment. He was already thinking ahead.
¡ª
That night, in the quiet of his dorm room, Ren sat at his desk, flipping through his neatly arranged notebooks.
Leo had already collapsed onto his bed, exhausted from training, but Ren¡¯s mind was too active to rest.
Like always, he meticulously reviewed his notes, making sure every concept, every sigil, was committed to memory. His enchanted lamp cast a soft glow over the pages, the familiar scent of parchment and ink filling the air.
Then, he stopped.
His fingers brushed over an old page, one he had copied from a book he had studied as a child. A fundamental magic theory book¡ªone of the first he had ever read.
His gaze flickered between it and the Academy¡¯s official notes, which were stacked neatly beside it.
A frown formed on his lips.
Something was different.
He looked closer, eyes scanning the details. The sigils were the same¡ªat least, at first glance. But then, he noticed it.
The Academy¡¯s version had an extra line.
A nearly invisible stroke, subtle enough that the casual observer wouldn¡¯t think twice about it. It didn¡¯t change the sigil¡¯s primary function, but it was present in every single sigil he compared.
Ren¡¯s brows furrowed.
He flipped through more notes, comparing dozens of sigils across different subjects. Every single one contained the same discrepancy. A tiny, seemingly meaningless addition.
That wasn¡¯t normal.
His heart rate picked up as he grabbed his quill, carefully isolating the extra lines from multiple sigils, sketching them separately.
And that was when he saw it.
These weren¡¯t random markings.
Each of these extra strokes, when separated from their sigils, were forming something.
Not a sigil.
A larger pattern. A formation.
Ren¡¯s breath caught in his throat.
This wasn¡¯t a mistake.
It was intentional.
Ren leaned back in his chair, staring at the formation slowly taking shape on his parchment. His mind raced through possibilities.
Why was this here? Who added it?
At first, he considered the possibility that it was some kind of encryption method, a way of preventing students from perfectly replicating Academy sigils outside of sanctioned use. But that didn¡¯t make sense. If it was just a security measure, then why did the extra strokes form a pattern when isolated?
He tapped his quill against the desk, brow furrowed.
The instructors had to know about this. There was no way something like this had gone unnoticed for decades. In fact, the Academy¡¯s 5th-year students¡ªthe ones on the verge of graduation¡ªshould have figured it out as well.
And yet, none of the lower-class students, even the nobles, seemed to have any knowledge of it. If they did, he would have at least overheard some mention of it. The nobles flaunted everything they knew¡ªit was unlikely they¡¯d be quiet about something like this.
Which meant¡
This information was deliberately hidden.
Ren exhaled slowly, staring at the fragmented formation on his page.
There was a purpose behind this.
And he needed to figure out what it was
Chapter 15
Chapter 15
Ren sighed, closing his notebook with a soft thud. The sigil irregularities were undeniably intriguing, but he wasn¡¯t going to risk his academic standing chasing after something he barely understood. If even the Academy¡¯s top students and instructors hadn''t spoken about it, then it wasn¡¯t something a first-year could solve overnight.
No, he had more pressing concerns¡ªlike making sure he didn¡¯t fail the upcoming midterms.
He couldn''t afford to get distracted. Not with midterms looming over them. If he got himself expelled for poking into something he wasn''t supposed to, he wouldn''t be able to uncover anything at all.
He ran a hand through his hair and stood, rolling his shoulders to shake off the unease settling over him. He¡¯d revisit this later¡ªafter midterms, after the summer tournament, when he actually had the standing to investigate without risking everything. For now, he had more immediate concerns.
He glanced across the room at Leo, who had long since fallen asleep, sprawled out on his bed with one arm hanging off the edge. His training orb sat forgotten beside him, its faint glow pulsing in the dark.
Ren sighed. He should get some sleep too. Tomorrow was another day of preparation, and if he wanted to stay ahead, he¡¯d need every bit of focus he could muster.
¡ª
Morning arrived all too quickly, sunlight spilling through the high dorm windows and casting long golden lines across the wooden floor. Ren rubbed the sleep from his eyes, blinking as Leo groaned and buried his face in his pillow.
¡°No,¡± Leo mumbled, voice muffled. ¡°Five more minutes.¡±
Ren shook his head and grabbed a pillow from his own bed before smacking Leo square in the back with it.
¡°Up.¡±
Leo made a noise somewhere between a growl and a whimper before sitting up, glaring through half-lidded eyes. ¡°You¡¯re a menace.¡±
¡°And you¡¯re slow. Come on, we¡¯re meeting Davian for breakfast.¡±
Leo grumbled under his breath but got up anyway, stretching before grabbing his uniform. Ren was already dressed, so he waited by the door, idly flipping through his notes to keep himself from going back to the sigil patterns. The irregularity nagged at him like an itch in the back of his mind, but he shoved it down.
Focus. Midterms first.
By the time they reached the dining hall, the morning rush was in full swing. Students bustled about, some grabbing food in a hurry while others lounged at their usual spots. Nobles sat together in their preferred corners, while commoners and scholarship students clustered in their own groups. The lines between them had become more defined over the past few weeks, tensions rising in small but noticeable ways.
Davian was already at their usual table, idly stirring his drink as he read through a book. He barely looked up as they sat down.
¡°You¡¯re late.¡±
Leo groaned, flopping into his seat. ¡°Why is everyone so obsessed with time?¡±
Ren ignored him, grabbing some bread and dried fruit from the tray. ¡°Anything new?¡±
Davian shut his book. ¡°Not much, but there was a notice posted this morning. Summer Tournament details are coming soon, and apparently, it¡¯ll be a big event this year. The professors are going all out.¡±
Ren raised a brow. ¡°Because of the rising tension?¡±
¡°Most likely. The tournament¡¯s a way for commoners to gain prestige. Winning or even performing well could help bridge the gap¡ªat least for those who prove themselves.¡±
Leo smirked. ¡°So we just have to make sure we do prove ourselves.¡±
Ren nodded but stayed quiet. It made sense. The nobles had their status, their family legacies, but skill was the great equalizer. If commoners could show their worth in front of the nobles and the academy at large.
¡°Anyway,¡± Davian continued, pulling out a folded paper, ¡°I ran into a third-year noble named Alden this morning. He¡¯s actually not half bad¡ªone of the few nobles who doesn¡¯t act like we¡¯re beneath him.¡±
Ren raised a brow. ¡°And?¡±
Davian adjusted his posture, as if mimicking Alrend¡¯s usual composed demeanor. ¡°¡®The ten tiers of magic are not just about power,¡¯¡± he recited. ¡°¡®They represent a sorcerer¡¯s ability to refine and control mana. If raw strength alone dictated rankings, then every noble with a massive mana pool would dominate, but that¡¯s not how it works.¡¯¡±
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Ren nodded slightly. That aligned with what they¡¯d already been taught. The system wasn¡¯t just about strength¡ªit measured precision, understanding, and application.
Davian continued, still quoting Alrend. ¡°¡®The first three tiers are called the Foundation Tiers. This is where a caster learns to manipulate mana efficiently. Most people remain stuck in these early tiers because they never refine their control enough to progress.¡¯¡±
Leo crossed his arms. ¡°Makes sense. So the middle tiers¡ªfour to six¡ªare the next step?¡±
¡°Yeah,¡± Davian said, slipping back into his own voice. ¡°That¡¯s called the Development Stage. That¡¯s when magic stops being something you use and starts being something you wield. Runic modification, spell fusion, personalized magic styles¡ªit all starts here.¡±
Ren frowned slightly. ¡°Personalized magic styles?¡±
Davian nodded. ¡°Alrend said this is something the academy barely touches on. They teach magic like it¡¯s a strict formula, but once a sorcerer reaches a certain level, it stops being about memorizing spells and starts being about making them their own.¡±
Ren absorbed the information, cataloging it in his mind. That made sense. Every powerful mage he had read about had their own unique casting method¡ªthis was probably why.
¡°And then there¡¯s the Mastery Stage¡ªtiers seven through nine,¡± Davian continued. ¡°This is where magic stops looking like magic and starts looking like reality bending. Casters at this level don¡¯t just manipulate mana¡ªthey integrate it into everything they do. It¡¯s not about casting spells anymore; it¡¯s about commanding the very nature of magic itself.¡±
Leo let out a low whistle. ¡°So that¡¯s why high-tier mages seem like monsters.¡±
¡°Exactly,¡± Davian confirmed. ¡°A tier-nine fire mage isn¡¯t just creating fire. He¡¯s making his fire¡ªsomething that follows his personal rules, ignoring normal limitations. If a tier-nine mage wants fire that only burns his enemies and never fades until he wills it, then that¡¯s exactly what happens.¡±
Ren leaned back, processing. That was beyond anything the academy had explicitly taught so far. The idea of magic following a caster¡¯s own rules¡ that was huge.
¡°But here¡¯s the real kicker.¡± Davian¡¯s grin widened. ¡°Alrend said there¡¯s one more stage above Mastery.¡±
Ren and Leo both straightened.
¡°The tenth tier?¡± Ren guessed.
¡°Yeah,¡± Davian said, lowering his voice slightly. ¡°¡®The Ascension Stage.¡¯¡±
Leo raised an eyebrow. ¡°That sounds dramatic.¡±
¡°Oh, it is,¡± Davian muttered. ¡°Because nobody really knows what it means. Alrend said the academy doesn¡¯t even acknowledge it, and even among high-ranking nobles, information about it is vague. But apparently, those who reach this stage¡ stop being bound by normal magic theory.¡±
Ren narrowed his eyes. ¡°What does that mean?¡±
Davian shook his head. ¡°It means they don¡¯t need sigils. They don¡¯t need incantations. Hell, some of them don¡¯t even need mana.¡±
Silence settled over the group.
Leo blinked. ¡°That¡ should be impossible.¡±
¡°Should be,¡± Davian agreed. ¡°But Alrend was adamant. He said only a handful of people in history have ever reached this stage, and each of them became something completely different from a normal sorcerer.¡±
Ren stared at the table, mind racing. Casting magic without mana? That wasn¡¯t just impossible¡ªit was absurd. The entire foundation of structured magic revolved around controlling and shaping mana through sigils. If someone could bypass that entirely¡
That was more than just power. That was rewriting the rules of magic itself.
¡°And here¡¯s the part that really got me,¡± Davian added, his voice lower now. ¡°¡®The academy¡¯s ranking system is a lie.¡¯¡±
Ren¡¯s eyes snapped up. ¡°¡What?¡±
Davian unfolded another sheet of notes. ¡°Alrend said that while the ten-tier system is real, the academy deliberately teaches a restricted version of it. They don¡¯t acknowledge the full potential of each stage, and they definitely don¡¯t talk about the Ascension Stage.¡±
Leo frowned. ¡°Why?¡±
Davian shrugged. ¡°Control, probably. Alrend made it sound like those at the very top¡ªthe royal family, the Grand Magisters, the High Council¡ªthey know about it. But they don¡¯t want just anyone figuring it out.¡±
Ren exhaled slowly, absorbing everything. If what Davian was saying was true¡ then the academy wasn¡¯t just a place of learning. It was a place of restriction.
And the more he learned, the more he realized just how much was being hidden from them.
¡°He also mentioned something interesting about how magic rankings work.¡± Davian unfolded the paper, revealing a rough outline of the tier system. ¡°So we already know magic is classified into tiers based on power and control, but Alden explained that there are also unranked classifications¡ªmagic that doesn¡¯t fit neatly into the system. Forbidden magic, lost techniques, and things still being researched.¡±
Ren¡¯s fingers twitched at the mention of forbidden magic. Could the sigil irregularities be related to that?
Davian tapped the page. ¡°Alden thinks the ranking system we¡¯re taught is intentionally simplified. That there¡¯s more to it, but lower-year students aren¡¯t given the full picture.¡±
Leo scoffed. ¡°Why am I not surprised?¡±
Ren exhaled slowly, letting the pieces settle in his mind. First the hidden sigil patterns, now the idea that magic classification itself wasn¡¯t as straightforward as they were told. There was a bigger picture here, one they weren¡¯t seeing yet.
But he¡¯d figure it out.
One step at a time.
Chapter 16
Chapter 16
Ren sat at his desk, hands folded as he stared down at his notes. His mind wasn¡¯t on the midterms, nor on the strange irregularities hidden in the Academy¡¯s sigils. Instead, his thoughts kept circling back to one unavoidable truth¡ªhe was unprepared for the Summer Tournament.
Not just unprepared. Woefully, utterly behind.
He had spent weeks refining his theoretical knowledge and deepening his understanding of magic, but when it came to actual combat, he had nothing. No offensive spells, no real defensive techniques, and nothing that could give him an edge over opponents who had trained for years. He didn¡¯t even have a weapon.
Ren exhaled, pressing his fingers to his temples.
Nobles had everything they needed¡ªelite training, instructors guiding them, and in many cases, enchanted weapons forged specifically for their mana signatures. Commoners? They had to make do with whatever they could scrounge together.
His thoughts drifted to the Runic Magic class. More specifically, to the runic steel Professor Orlan had given him to practice with outside of lessons. At the time, he had considered it just another study tool, something to use for sigil experimentation. But maybe¡
His eyes flickered toward his drawer.
Slowly, he pulled it open, revealing a small, ingot-like slab of dark gray metal. It was cool to the touch, humming faintly with dormant mana. Runic steel¡ªa rare alloy designed to hold inscriptions more efficiently than normal metals. He picked it up, turning it over in his palm.
A weapon. He could make one himself.
The idea took root. Most mages relied on weapons to enhance their combat potential, especially those without overwhelming mana reserves. He didn¡¯t have the luxury of throwing around massive spells, but if he could forge a weapon and inscribe it with the right runes¡
Ren stood, determination settling in his chest.
Mages could shape materials using mana, bypassing the traditional forging process. It wasn¡¯t perfect¡ªtrue forging was still more efficient, and a dedicated smith could refine a weapon far better¡ªbut in a pinch, it worked. It was one of the first practical applications of magic he had ever read about, though he had never attempted it himself.
He placed the ingot on his desk and took a slow breath.
Mana shaping required focus, control, and a clear vision of the final product. He had all three.
Closing his eyes, he let his mana flow into the runic steel. The material reacted instantly, glowing faintly as the mana spread through its structure. Slowly, carefully, he began guiding it, compressing and elongating the metal with sheer will.
The ingot shifted, stretching like molten wax yet remaining solid. It was strange¡ªwatching something so rigid bend and twist under his control. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he worked, shaping the steel into a sleek, dagger-like form.
Minutes passed.
Then, with one final push of mana, the shaping process ended.
Ren stepped back, staring at his work. The blade was rough, uneven in places, but it was undeniably a weapon. A simple dagger, nothing ornate, but it felt solid in his grip.
Now came the crucial part.
He reached for his notebook, flipping through pages of runes he had memorized over the years. He needed basic enhancements¡ªnothing too advanced, just enough to make the blade more effective.
Sharpness. A rune designed to refine the edge, ensuring it could cut through more than just flesh.
Mana Conduction. Essential. Without it, the weapon would be nothing more than regular steel. This rune would allow him to channel spells through the blade, giving it more versatility.
Durability. The shaping process had weakened the steel slightly. This rune would reinforce its structure, preventing it from breaking too easily.
Ren pulled out a small carving tool. Unlike traditional runes, which were drawn onto paper or temporarily formed in the air, inscribing onto physical objects required precision. One mistake, and the rune wouldn¡¯t activate properly.
With steady hands, he began carving.
Time slipped away as he worked, lost in the meticulous process of inscription. Each rune had to be exact, every line carved with intent. When he finally finished, he sat back, exhaling deeply.
The runes glowed faintly, embedded into the steel.
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He picked up the dagger, channeling a trickle of mana into it. The runes pulsed, activating in sequence. The edge shimmered with a barely perceptible gleam, the mana conduction rune sent a faint hum through the blade, and the durability rune settled into place.
Ren gripped the weapon tightly, rolling it over in his palm. The blade was crude, the edges slightly uneven, and the balance was off. A real blacksmith would probably scoff at it. Even with the runes reinforcing it, the end product was most likely worth less than the raw runic steel he had started with.
And yet, a quiet sense of pride settled in his chest.
This was the first weapon he had ever made. It wasn¡¯t perfect¡ªfar from it¡ªbut it was his. His effort, his mana, his work. He had shaped it, inscribed it, breathed life into it.
Ren exhaled, a small smile playing at his lips.
This wasn¡¯t just about making a dagger. It was about experience. And now that he had done it once, he could do it better the next time.
The thought stirred something in him.
He reached for another ingot.
This time, he would refine the process. Make the blade smoother, the balance better, the runes more precise. His first weapon was a step forward, but it wasn¡¯t the final one.
And so, with renewed determination, he began crafting again.
_________________________________________________________________________
Ren exhaled, stretching his sore fingers as he stared at the growing pile of failures on his desk.
The first attempt had been a disaster. The moment he tried to shape the runic steel, his mana surged unevenly, causing the metal to warp unpredictably. Instead of a dagger, he ended up with a misshapen lump barely resembling a blade.
The second was marginally better¡ªat least it had a point. But the balance was horrendous, and the mana conduction rune refused to activate properly, rendering it useless as anything but a crude stabbing tool.
The third shattered outright. He had pressed too hard while inscribing the sharpness rune, causing a flaw in the structure. One test swing later, and the brittle weapon had snapped in half, forcing him to start from scratch.
Failure after failure. Each time, a different mistake.
On the fourth, the durability rune was misaligned, and the entire blade bent like cheap copper.
On the fifth, he got too ambitious and tried to carve a heating rune without proper layering¡ªresulting in a near-meltdown of the entire dagger.
On the seventh, the mana conduction rune overloaded, causing a feedback loop that nearly burned his hand.
By the tenth attempt, frustration was gnawing at him.
The wasted runic steel. The repeated failures. Each mistake was costly¡ªnot just in materials, but in time. He clenched his fists. Was this all he could manage? Some pathetic, half-functional blades that wouldn¡¯t last a single fight?
No.
He took a deep breath.
Each failure had taught him something. The precise way mana flowed through metal. How the placement of runes could either reinforce or destabilize a weapon. The delicate balance between structure and enchantment.
If he had to fail a hundred more times to get this right, so be it.
So, he kept at it.
The eleventh attempt was better. The blade wasn¡¯t perfect, but it held its shape. The sharpness rune activated properly, though it was still weak. The twelfth was even closer, but he miscalculated the heat storage function, making it unstable.
And finally¡ªafter hours of work, refining every flaw, adjusting every rune, and carefully layering mana¡ªhis thirteenth attempt lay before him.
A true weapon.
Sleek. Balanced. Deadly.
The Tier 2 Sharpness Rune made the edge keen enough to slice through reinforced wood with ease. The Tier 1 Durability Rune gave it resilience, ensuring it could take a beating. The Tier 1 Mana Conduction Rune allowed him to channel magic through it freely.
But the real success¡ªthe innate heat ability¡ªwas his proudest achievement.
By carefully structuring the runes, he had created two distinct functions. One allowed the blade to superheat itself for two minutes, making it capable of searing through armor or flesh. The other, a dangerous overcharge function, allowed him to release all the stored energy in one burst, causing an explosion of heat and force¡ªbut at the cost of burning out the runes, leaving the weapon useless until repaired.
He ran his fingers over the blade, feeling the faint hum of power beneath its surface.
Compared to a masterwork weapon, this was probably worthless. A professional smith could forge something far stronger, with better mana efficiency.
And yet, as he gripped the hilt, a smile tugged at his lips.
This was his.
Not something given to him. Not something bought. A blade created by his own hands, through his own skill and effort.
The next one would be even better¡¡
At least, that¡¯s what he would¡¯ve liked to think.
As soon as the excitement faded, exhaustion crashed down on him like a landslide. His arms ached from the precise mana control, his fingers were stiff from carving, and his mind was foggy from the sheer focus required. He had spent hours refining his craft, pouring every ounce of energy into the process.
Ren let out a long breath, setting the blade down with a quiet clink against his desk. It was done. For now.
His bed had never looked so inviting.
Dragging himself up, he barely managed to place the dagger safely beside his notes before collapsing onto the mattress. A deep sigh left his lips as he sank into the sheets, warmth wrapping around him like a familiar embrace.
As his eyes fluttered shut, a single thought crossed his mind¡ª
I did it.
The blade might not be perfect, but he had taken the first step. He had learned. He had improved.
And with that small, satisfied smile still lingering on his face, he let exhaustion pull him into sleep.
Chapter 17
Chapter 17
Ren awoke to the familiar soreness of overexerted muscles. His arms ached, his shoulders felt stiff, and there was a dull exhaustion settled deep in his bones. Still, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, he felt a quiet satisfaction.
Last night had been productive.
He turned his head toward the desk where his newly crafted blade rested. After multiple failures, he had finally succeeded in creating something practical¡ªa short sword inscribed with Tier 2 Sharpness, Tier 1 Durability, Tier 1 Mana Conduction, and, as an unexpected bonus, an innate ability to superheat itself for a short period. It was flawed, yes, but it was his. Something forged by his own hands.
Still¡ owning a weapon and knowing how to wield it were two very different things.
Ren exhaled through his nose and pushed himself out of bed. He had spent weeks refining his magical knowledge, but his combat training was still nonexistent. The Summer Tournament was approaching fast, and while his new weapon was an advantage, it wouldn¡¯t matter if he didn¡¯t know how to use it.
It was time to change that.
The Academy had several combat training areas, but Ren made his way toward the private sparring grounds, where instructors worked one-on-one with students. Most of those seeking additional training were nobles, refining their already polished skills. He doubted many commoners came here¡ªprivate tutoring wasn¡¯t something they could afford.
He was counting on one thing: training was still offered to anyone willing to put in the effort.
The instructor overseeing the grounds was a middle-aged man with short silver-streaked hair and a broad, muscular build. Instructor Varian. Ren had seen him before in Combat Tactics class, but he had never spoken to him directly.
Varian was currently watching a match between two nobles, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. As Ren approached, he hesitated slightly¡ªinterrupting wasn¡¯t exactly a great first impression.
Fortunately, he didn¡¯t have to.
¡°Something you need, kid?¡± Varian¡¯s sharp brown eyes flickered toward him without turning his head.
Ren straightened. ¡°I want to train.¡±
Varian finally looked at him fully, his gaze sweeping over Ren¡¯s stance, his frame, and the sheathed short sword at his side.
¡°You¡¯ve got a weapon.¡±
Ren nodded. ¡°I made it myself.¡±
Varian raised an eyebrow but didn¡¯t comment. ¡°And you want to learn how to use it?¡±
¡°Yes.¡±
A moment of silence. Then, Varian smirked.
¡°Alright. Let¡¯s see what you can do first.¡±
Ren quickly realized just how outmatched he was.
Varian didn¡¯t even draw his own weapon. Instead, he casually dodged and redirected every one of Ren¡¯s attempts, using nothing but slight shifts in stance and open-handed parries. The worst part? He wasn¡¯t even trying.
Ren gritted his teeth as he lunged again. His movements were awkward, his balance unsteady¡ªeverything he had read about in books felt completely different in practice.
With a flick of his wrist, Varian knocked Ren¡¯s blade aside, causing him to stumble.
¡°Too tense,¡± Varian commented. ¡°You¡¯re forcing your movements instead of flowing with them. And stop overcommitting¡ªif you miss, you¡¯re leaving yourself wide open.¡±
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Ren exhaled sharply, steadying his stance. He was used to struggling with mana reserves, but this was a different kind of limitation entirely. Magic required precision, control, and deep understanding. Close combat? It was instinct, reaction speed, and raw adaptability.
He wasn¡¯t good at that.
Yet.
Varian watched him for a moment before nodding. ¡°You¡¯re not hopeless, at least. You learn fast.¡±
Ren blinked. ¡°Wait, really?¡±
The instructor smirked. ¡°Don¡¯t get ahead of yourself, kid. You¡¯ve got no actual skill yet. But you¡¯re adjusting. That¡¯s more than I can say for some nobles who¡¯ve been training for years.¡±
Ren straightened. ¡°So you¡¯ll train me?¡±
Varian rolled his shoulders. ¡°I¡¯m not running charity lessons, but if you show up here and put in the work, I¡¯ll make sure you¡¯re not embarrassing yourself by the time the tournament starts.¡±
Relief flooded Ren¡¯s chest. He nodded firmly. ¡°I will.¡±
Varian chuckled. ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡±
The wooden training sword whistled through the air as Ren pivoted on his heel, bringing it down in a precise arc toward Instructor Varian. The older man easily sidestepped the blow, but instead of simply dodging, this time he reached out with his free hand and redirected the momentum, sending Ren stumbling forward.
"Better," Varian remarked, watching as Ren quickly corrected his balance. "You''re controlling your strikes now, not just swinging like a wild beast. But you still hesitate at the last moment. You''re calculating too much."
Ren straightened, adjusting his grip. He had spent weeks under Varian¡¯s instruction, drilling basic strikes until his arms felt like lead, refining his stance until movement felt natural rather than forced. His improvements were undeniable¡ªhis reactions were sharper, his footwork more stable¡ªbut every time he felt like he was making progress, Varian found another flaw to fix.
"Overthinking will get you killed," the instructor continued. "You read books, don¡¯t you?"
Ren nodded.
"Thought so." Varian smirked. "Nothing wrong with studying, but fighting isn¡¯t something you can just memorize. In a real fight, you won¡¯t have time to go through every possible outcome in your head. You see an opening, you take it. Instinct. That''s what separates the ones who survive from the ones who don¡¯t."
Ren exhaled, nodding. Instinct. That was the part he struggled with the most. Magic had rules¡ªstrict, structured principles that could be understood and mastered. Swordsmanship, though? It was fluid. Unpredictable. And while Ren had the technical understanding down, he was still learning how to feel the fight.
But he was getting there.
He rolled his shoulders, signaling that he was ready. Varian chuckled, shaking his head before raising his own training weapon.
"Again."
Ren lunged.
The next few weeks blurred into a cycle of training, refining his weapon, and pushing himself past his limits. The bruises on his arms and legs became constant companions, his muscles ached even in his sleep, and more than once, he wondered if he was making any real progress. But every time he stepped onto the sparring ground, he could feel the difference.
His movements became smoother, his counters sharper. He no longer fought purely on logic but on reflex¡ªdodging, striking, adapting without stopping to analyze every little action. And Varian? The once-amused instructor now watched him with something resembling approval.
"You''re finally starting to fight like someone who knows what they''re doing," Varian admitted one afternoon, after Ren had managed to last a full three minutes without getting disarmed. "If you keep this up, you might even survive that tournament."
Ren, breathing hard, grinned despite himself.
At night, he poured the same dedication into his weapon forging. His original blade had been good¡ªbut good wasn¡¯t enough. Every failed attempt taught him something new, every mistake another lesson in mana conductivity, weight distribution, and durability.
By the end of another two weeks, his newest creation was leagues ahead of his first attempt.
Tier 3 Sharpness. More than enough to slice through reinforced armor.
Tier 2 Durability. Capable of withstanding immense force without chipping.
Tier 2 Mana Conduction. Letting magic flow through it seamlessly.
Heat Surge Ability. An innate ability allowing the blade to superheat for three minutes or unleash all of its stored energy in a devastating explosion. Risky, but powerful.
Ren turned the blade over in his hands, feeling the weight of it.
It wasn¡¯t perfect. It still had limits. But it was his.
And for the first time since stepping foot into this academy, he felt like he had something that could bridge the gap between himself and the nobles who had been training since childhood.
As he lay in bed that night, exhaustion pressing down on him like a heavy blanket, he stared at the ceiling and allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.
He was getting stronger.
He was ready.
Chapter 18
Chapter 18
Ren woke the next morning with a dull ache settled into his muscles, a familiar sensation after weeks of relentless training. He groaned, stretching his arms before sitting up, his gaze drifting toward the short sword resting on his desk. Even now, after all the effort he had put into forging it, he couldn¡¯t help but analyze its details, memorizing every rune, every flaw that still needed refining.
But for now, he had done enough.
Today wasn¡¯t about crafting or training. Today, he and the rest of the first-years would finally begin sparring matches.
The academy had kept them focused on fundamentals for the first few weeks, making sure students weren¡¯t just flailing around with magic and weapons without understanding the basics. But now, they were expected to start applying what they had
learned¡ªagainst real opponents.
And Ren knew exactly what that meant.
A chance to see how he measured up.
He dressed quickly, slipping his blade into its sheath before making his way toward the combat grounds. The morning air was crisp, the sky overcast with thin clouds, but the Academy was already lively. Students filled the walkways, some murmuring about the upcoming matches, others boasting about how they were going to dominate the sparring sessions.
When he reached the training area, he spotted Leo and Davian near the sparring rings.
Leo, as usual, looked eager, rolling his shoulders and grinning like a fight was the best way to start the morning. Davian, by contrast, stood with his arms crossed, scanning the other students with a more analytical look.
"About time you showed up," Leo said, smirking. "You ready?"
Ren exhaled, shaking out the stiffness in his arms. "As ready as I¡¯ll ever be."
Davian raised an eyebrow. "We¡¯ll see about that. They¡¯re pairing people based on their performance in training so far, so don¡¯t expect an easy match."
"Not like I was expecting one," Ren said.
It wasn¡¯t long before Instructor Varian arrived, his sharp gaze sweeping over the assembled students. He wasted no time.
"Listen up!" Varian¡¯s voice cut through the chatter, immediately silencing the group. "Today, you¡¯re going to be facing each other in controlled duels. Your matchups are based on your current progress, so don¡¯t think you¡¯ll be getting any easy wins. This isn¡¯t about pride¡ªit¡¯s about testing your abilities. Now, pairings will be called in order. Step into the ring when your name is announced."
Ren listened as names were called one by one, watching as students made their way into the sparring rings. Some matches ended quickly, others dragged into intense exchanges of magic and steel. The nobles, unsurprisingly, had the most refined techniques, but a few commoners held their ground impressively.
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Then¡ª
"Ren Evern and Callum Aldric.
Ren blinked. Callum Aldric?
For a split second, he thought of Instructor Aldric, but the moment his opponent stepped forward, the resemblance made it clear¡ªthis wasn¡¯t a coincidence.
Callum Aldric was the instructor¡¯s son.
He was tall, lean, and carried himself with the poised confidence of someone who had been training for years. His hair was a dark auburn, tied back neatly, and his sharp green eyes scanned Ren with something that wasn¡¯t quite disdain¡ªbut certainly wasn¡¯t interest, either.
Ren exhaled slowly, stepping forward.
This was it. His first real test.
He unsheathed his blade, feeling the familiar weight settle in his hands as he met Callum¡¯s gaze. The noble¡¯s weapon of choice was a rapier¡ªa fast, precise weapon, perfectly suited for someone with refined technique.
Varian, standing at the edge of the ring, glanced between them. "Standard rules. No lethal strikes, and if I say stop, you stop. Understood?"
Both nodded.
"Begin."
Callum moved first.
Fast.
Ren barely had time to react before the noble closed the distance, his rapier darting forward with precise, controlled thrusts. Ren twisted his body, narrowly avoiding the strike while bringing his short sword up to parry¡ªonly to feel his blade skim past empty air as Callum redirected his attack at the last second.
A sharp sting cut across Ren¡¯s sleeve as the tip of the rapier grazed his arm. Not deep, but enough to send a clear message.
He was outmatched.
Ren grit his teeth, adjusting his stance. He knew this would happen¡ªhe wasn¡¯t arrogant enough to think he could match a noble with years of training after only a few weeks. But that didn¡¯t mean he was going down easily.
Callum lunged again.
This time, Ren didn¡¯t just react. He anticipated.
Instead of trying to block directly, he twisted his wrist and angled his blade, deflecting the rapier¡¯s tip just enough to disrupt Callum¡¯s momentum. It wasn¡¯t a perfect counter, but it gave Ren an opening¡ªhe stepped forward, aiming a quick slash at Callum¡¯s side.
The noble barely dodged, forced to retreat a step.
For the first time, Callum¡¯s expression flickered¡ªnot frustration, but something like mild surprise.
"Not bad," he murmured.
Ren didn¡¯t answer. He focused.
The next few exchanges were a blur of movement¡ªCallum¡¯s rapier striking with speed and precision, Ren struggling to keep up, relying on instinct and the training he had drilled into himself over the past weeks. He wasn¡¯t winning, but he wasn¡¯t collapsing instantly, either.
Then, Callum changed tactics.
Instead of another precise thrust, he suddenly swept his blade in a feint, forcing Ren to react¡ªonly to shift at the last second and step inside his guard.
Too late, Ren realized his mistake.
A sharp pressure pressed against his shoulder. Not a deep strike, but a decisive one.
Varian¡¯s voice rang out.
"Match over."
Ren exhaled heavily, lowering his blade. He lost.
But as he looked at Callum¡ªwho studied him with an appraising look rather than dismissive arrogance¡ªRen realized something.
This wasn¡¯t the kind of loss he had suffered before. This wasn¡¯t being ignored, overlooked, or dismissed just because he was a commoner.
This was respect.
Callum nodded slightly. "You¡¯re not bad. For a beginner."
Ren let out a breath and smirked tiredly. "I¡¯ll take that as a compliment."
As he stepped out of the ring, muscles aching but mind sharper than ever, he could only think one thing.
He had lost today.
But tomorrow?
Tomorrow, he¡¯d be better.
Chapter 19
Chapter 19
The Study Hall was quieter than usual. With midterms fast approaching, most students buried themselves in books or notes, whispering softly, their voices carrying only the weight of stress and last-minute cramming.
Ren sat near the back, his notebook open, the pages filled with layers of sketched sigils. He traced over the same faint, irregular lines again and again with his pencil, biting the inside of his cheek. The lines didn¡¯t belong. They weren¡¯t part of the standard formations, yet they repeated in every diagram the Academy provided.
He¡¯d tried every logical explanation: stylistic marks, calibration guides, even potential mana stabilizers. But they didn¡¯t function that way. They were too deliberate. Too uniform.
He was close to giving up for the night when two students entered, their hushed voices cutting through the heavy silence. Both wore the fine, ornate uniforms that marked them as upper-year nobles. Ren recognized one immediately. Princess Lyra, daughter of Duke Farrow ¡ª a major vassal to the Empire. She sat with her friend two tables down, clearly assuming no one around them was paying attention.
Ren kept his head down, pretending to focus on his notes, but every word they spoke filtered into his ears with clarity.
¡°I still think you¡¯re crazy for even mentioning it out loud,¡± the friend whispered.
Lyra glanced around and lowered her voice further, but Ren still caught every word.
¡°I only told you because you¡¯ve been working with high-tier formations. You deserve to know. The Academy spells¡ they¡¯re not just spells.¡±
Her friend frowned. ¡°What do you mean?¡±
Lyra hesitated, her voice a whisper so faint Ren had to strain to catch it.
¡°There¡¯s a hidden structure woven into every standardized academy sigil. My father told me. Only certain noble families know.¡±
Her friend blinked, clearly confused. ¡°A hidden structure? What does it do?¡±
Lyra shook her head. ¡°No one knows for certain. But my father said the Empire designed it¡ a failsafe. A control mechanism.¡±
Ren¡¯s pulse spiked.
Lyra continued. ¡°The tiny lines ¡ª they aren¡¯t mistakes. They¡¯re fragments of a larger imperial formation. Supposedly, if all students use Academy-standard sigils, their magic is always connected to this formation. It allows the Empire to¡ monitor things. Possibly more.¡±
Her friend looked pale. ¡°That¡¯s¡ª¡±
¡°I know,¡± Lyra said quickly. ¡°It¡¯s dangerous to even talk about it. But you should be careful. If someone sees you trying to alter those lines, it won¡¯t end well.¡±
Her friend glanced nervously around the hall.
¡°I shouldn¡¯t have said anything,¡± Lyra muttered. ¡°Forget it. Please.¡±
The two of them quickly packed their things and left the hall without another word.
Ren sat frozen in place, heart pounding in his ears.
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A control mechanism. A failsafe built into every spell taught here.
He slowly closed his notebook.
For weeks, he¡¯d thought he was discovering a hidden wonder. But now¡ he realized he¡¯d been walking on a knife¡¯s edge without knowing it.
He couldn¡¯t breathe for a moment. His instincts screamed at him to leave this mystery alone. To focus on his exams, his training, the tournament.
But curiosity burned hotter than fear.
He swallowed hard and left the Study Hall soon after, his mind racing. The corridors felt unusually silent, the flickering crystal lamps lining the hallways casting long, uncertain shadows. His thoughts tangled and twisted, each new theory more dangerous than the last.
He turned the corner toward the dormitory wing¡ª
And froze.
Down the hall, just outside the eastern courtyard archway, stood Instructor Bernard. But not the kindly, measured professor Ren had come to respect. He wore a dark cloak, the hood shadowing most of his face, though Ren recognized the man''s profile instantly.
He wasn¡¯t alone.
Four men surrounded him, their faces hidden beneath heavy masks, their presences oppressive and suffocating. Even from this distance, Ren felt their auras pressing against his chest like lead. Dark, heavy mana leaked off them in faint ripples, too well-controlled to alert others, but more than enough to make Ren¡¯s instincts scream danger.
Beneath the archway, half-shrouded by shadows and cloaked in midnight blue, stood Instructor Bernard. His posture was tense, arms hidden beneath his cloak, head slightly bowed. But he wasn¡¯t alone.
Four men surrounded him. Their faces were obscured by dark masks marked with unfamiliar symbols, but their presence was suffocating. The sheer weight of their auras made the air heavy and cold, as though the world itself had gone still.
One of them spoke, voice low and sharp.
¡°You¡¯ve allowed the boy too close to the truth, Bernard.¡±
Bernard¡¯s voice was calm but clipped, like a man balancing on a knife¡¯s edge. ¡°I¡¯ve guided him away. He¡¯s just curious ¡ª nothing more.¡±
The tallest figure stepped forward. His aura felt like frost and stone, ancient and unyielding. ¡°Curiosity becomes danger. If he unravels the pattern, we will hold you accountable.¡±
Bernard¡¯s jaw tightened, just barely visible in the moonlight. ¡°I understand.¡±
But something was wrong.
Ren¡¯s eyes narrowed.
Bernard¡¯s stance¡ it wasn¡¯t defensive or fearful. It was careful. Too careful. His eyes didn¡¯t flicker with worry ¡ª they gleamed with calculation.
The men spoke of allowing Ren too close. But Bernard¡ he wasn¡¯t denying it.
He was hiding.
He¡¯s the one pulling me into this, Ren realized with a jolt of cold clarity. He¡¯s been steering me toward the hidden lines. Toward the forbidden formation.
The masked figures stepped back into the shadows, dissolving into thin air with unnatural silence. The oppressive aura vanished.
Bernard stood alone.
And then, without turning around, his voice carried softly across the courtyard:
¡°You¡¯re quite talented at being in the wrong place at the wrong time, Ren.¡±
Ren¡¯s blood ran cold. He ducked back around the corner, heart pounding.
Ren stumbled back a step, heart pounding, but before he could turn, something subtle and small brushed against his coat.
A slight weight.
He looked down. A folded scrap of parchment had been slipped into his pocket.
His breath caught in his throat. He spun on his heel, practically running back to the dorms, each footstep sounding too loud in his ears.
When he finally burst into his room, he slammed the door shut, bolted it, and sat at his desk with shaking hands. He carefully unfolded the paper.
Strange symbols greeted him first ¡ª runes, but unlike anything he had seen in the Academy¡¯s libraries. They swirled and bent in impossible angles, their lines thicker, darker, almost alive. It felt like they pulsed faintly against his fingertips.
Beneath the runes, a single line of text written in elegant black ink.
Obsidian Hall wants you.
Chapter 20
Chapter 20
Ren sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the note once again.
Obsidian Hall wants you.
He remembered now. Back during academy selection day, the name had come up. Obsidian Hall had sent him an invitation¡ªone of only three academies to do so. He hadn¡¯t thought much of it back then, assuming it was some sort of automated selection or mistake.
Obsidian Hall was one of the most prestigious magic academies in the empire. It was known for producing powerful sorcerers, brilliant researchers, and¡ secretive graduates who often ended up in positions of quiet influence.
They were supposed to be one of the oldest and most selective magic academies in the empire. An academy that didn¡¯t participate in public tournaments or grand ceremonies, unlike the more celebrated imperial academies. Instead, they focused on ¡°pure study¡± and ¡°advancement of knowledge¡± ¡ª at least, that was the official line.
But this? A note slipped into his pocket in the dead of night¡ from a man actively going against the empire?
It was supposed to be legitimate.
But after tonight, after overhearing that conversation, after feeling that chill in the air and seeing the fear Bernard hadn¡¯t quite been able to hide¡
He wasn¡¯t so sure anymore.
He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly. He didn¡¯t have time to chase mysteries right now. The written exams were tomorrow morning, and he still had entire sections of theory to brush up on.
Pushing aside the strange encounter for the moment, he turned back to his desk. Notes on mana structures, runic layering principles, and magic tier classifications were spread out before him. He picked up his quill, dipping it in ink, and forced himself to focus.
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Hours passed as he worked through complex problem sets and mental exercises, occasionally pausing to recall entire pages of their textbooks from memory. His photographic memory was a gift, but understanding application and nuance still required effort.
The clock in the common room struck midnight. He rubbed his eyes, the exhaustion weighing heavier now. Just one more section.
He reached for a reference text on advanced sigil geometry ¡ª but his hand brushed against something else. A slim, faded leather-bound book tucked between two larger tomes. He didn¡¯t remember placing it there.
Curious, he pulled it free. The cover was blank except for a faintly embossed symbol: a black circle surrounded by three interlocking lines.
He opened the book.
¡°Of the Three Shadows: The Quiet Orders of the Empire.¡±
His breath caught.
The introduction was short and chilling:
"Three orders, unknown to the common man, guide the empire¡¯s fate from behind closed doors. Their purpose is neither conquest nor governance, but the quiet maintenance of balance and secrecy."
"Of these, Obsidian Hall stands apart. Publicly, it is an academy dedicated to advanced magical study. In truth, it recruits those with exceptional talent for observation, secrecy, and manipulation of knowledge. Recruits are chosen young, trained in both magic and subtlety, and bound by oaths not to king or council ¡ª but to the balance of power itself."
Ren sat frozen.
So it wasn¡¯t just an academy. It was something far more dangerous.
He glanced again at the note in his hand.
Obsidian Hall wants you.
His heart pounded. Why him? Why now?
A sudden knock at the door startled him.
¡°Ren?¡±
Leo¡¯s voice.
Ren scrambled, sliding the book beneath a stack of notes just as Leo peeked in.
¡°You¡¯re still up? The exam¡¯s tomorrow, you lunatic.¡±
Ren forced a smile. ¡°Last-minute revisions.¡±
Leo chuckled. ¡°We¡¯ve got this. Just don¡¯t fry your brain.¡±
The door closed with a soft click.
Ren sat there for a long time, staring at his notes, his mind elsewhere.
Tomorrow was the exam. But after that...
He wasn¡¯t sure what waited for him anymore.
Chapter 21
Chapter 21
Leo¡¯s Pov
Leo stretched, arms over his head, feeling every muscle pull tight before releasing with a satisfying pop. The morning sunlight poured through the tall windows of the dormitory common area, catching on the polished floors and making everything seem just a little too bright for how early it was.
He sat down at the small table by the window with a steaming mug of bitter tea. It was exam day. He felt... ready. At least, more ready than he had a few weeks ago.
He grinned to himself. His body enhancement training had been going well ¡ª better than well, honestly. The bruises from those brutal sparring sessions were almost like badges of honor now. His mana control, once clumsy and impatient, had become something sharper, more focused. He could feel it humming under his skin, coiled and responsive, almost eager to be used.
Illusion magic was still a challenge, though. Subtlety had never been his strength. But he was improving. He¡¯d learned to weave minor illusions ¡ª flickers of light, shifting shadows, even a brief double image of himself during sparring practice. Enough to distract and create openings. Instructor Marius had even given him an approving nod last class, which was practically the same as a standing ovation.
Still... his thoughts kept drifting to Ren.
He¡¯d noticed it over the past week. His friend had been staying up far later than usual. Not just studying ¡ª Leo could tell the difference. There was a weight in Ren¡¯s expression now, a furrow in his brow that hadn¡¯t been there before. He wasn¡¯t just worried about exams.
Leo had wanted to ask. A few times, he almost had. But each time, Ren would smile that same calm smile, as if everything was fine. Maybe it was. Maybe he was just pushing himself too hard, like he always did.
Still, Leo made a mental note: after the exam, they were going to sit down. No excuses.
He drained the last of his tea, exhaled, and stood. Time to head to the examination hall.
¡ª
Ren¡¯s hands were steady as he tightened the clasp on his uniform coat, but inside, his nerves twisted. The long night weighed on him ¡ª not just the studying, but the secrets he¡¯d uncovered, the strange note, and the heavy presence of Obsidian Hall looming in the back of his mind.
He shook his head. Focus.
The grand examination hall was already filling with students when he arrived. Rows upon rows of desks stretched beneath the vaulted ceiling, the air thick with tension. Professors walked along the aisles, eyes sharp and watchful.
Ren sat down, taking a deep breath. The parchment and ink on the desk in front of him felt heavier than they should.
He glanced around ¡ª Davian gave him a small nod from two rows down, his usual calm confidence unshaken. Leo arrived moments later, offering a quick grin and a thumbs-up.
Ren smiled back, but his mind was still clouded.
The bell chimed, deep and resonant, and the room fell silent.
Begin.
The exam was grueling, as expected. Questions on complex mana theory, advanced runic structures, historical applications of magic, tier classifications ¡ª each problem forced him to pull on everything he¡¯d studied, every detail he¡¯d memorized. But beneath the pressure, a strange clarity emerged. His mind flowed through the material like water finding the easiest path.
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Still, he caught himself hesitating more than once. Not because he didn¡¯t know the answer, but because his thoughts kept circling back to those strange irregularities in the academy¡¯s sigils. The hidden structures. The whispered conspiracies. The invitation.
He forced himself to focus. He finished with time to spare, triple-checking his work before finally setting his quill down and leaning back, exhaling slowly.
The bell rang again.
It was over.
He gathered his papers and stood, meeting up with Leo and Davian outside the hall.
Leo clapped him on the back. ¡°You look like you just survived a war.¡±
Ren managed a weak smile. ¡°Close enough.¡±
Davian grinned. ¡°If we fail, I¡¯m blaming Leo.¡±
Leo held up his hands. ¡°Unfair! I did all the prep! You guys were the ones drowning in books.¡±
They laughed, the tension finally easing from their shoulders. The stress of the exam gave way to the simple relief of being done.
¡°C¡¯mon,¡± Leo said, slinging an arm around Ren¡¯s shoulders. ¡°We¡¯re getting food. My treat. And after that, we¡¯re finding somewhere to relax. You ¡ª¡± he gave Ren a pointed look ¡ª ¡°are going to stop worrying for one night.¡±
Ren hesitated. He thought about the letter, the strange book, and the weight of questions left unanswered.
But then he looked at his friends.
He nodded. ¡°Alright. Lead the way.¡±
¡ª
They ended up in a cozy tavern just off campus, a place recommended by one of Davian¡¯s older friends. The walls were lined with dark wood and soft lantern light, and the air smelled of warm bread and roasting meat.
They sat at a corner booth, plates piled high with food in front of them.
For a while, it was easy to forget.
Leo animatedly recounted one of his sparring sessions with a cocky noble who¡¯d underestimated him ¡ª complete with wild gestures and sound effects that had both Ren and Davian doubled over with laughter.
Davian, for his part, shared stories of his early struggles with force magic and his attempts to ¡®borrow¡¯ spells from the senior students.
Ren found himself laughing along, genuinely, the tightness in his chest easing.
They ate until they were stuffed, then wandered through the lantern-lit streets around the academy grounds, just talking about anything but exams ¡ª old memories, funny classmates, plans for the tournament after midterms.
For a few precious hours, Ren let himself just... be.
As they finally stepped out of the tavern, the night air was cool and refreshing. Lanterns swayed gently in the breeze, and somewhere in the distance, the soft chime of bells from the academy¡¯s clock tower echoed.
Davian stretched with a satisfied groan. ¡°I needed that. Midterms can throw themselves into the river for all I care.¡±
Leo clapped him on the back, grinning. ¡°Let¡¯s just hope they don¡¯t throw us in first.¡±
Ren smiled, but his mind felt quieter now ¡ª clearer. The weight in his chest had eased, not because the questions had vanished, but because he realized something simple and important:
He didn¡¯t have to solve everything tonight.
The hidden formation, Obsidian Hall, strange warnings from cloaked men in the night ¡ª these things were far bigger than him. Worrying endlessly wouldn¡¯t give him answers any faster.
He exhaled slowly, watching the mist of his breath drift into the night sky.
He would try his best. He¡¯d pursue the truth, carefully, steadily, without letting it consume him. He would study, he would train, he would laugh with his friends and live these days fully ¡ª because there was no telling when peace might slip away.
He couldn¡¯t control the secrets hidden behind closed doors or the agendas of those more powerful than him. But he could control how he faced each day.
He could become strong enough ¡ª sharp enough ¡ª that when the moment came, he¡¯d be ready.
¡°Hey,¡± Leo called from ahead, noticing Ren¡¯s lingering silence. ¡°You good?¡±
Ren nodded. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said softly. And for the first time in days, he meant it.
They split ways at the dorm gates, bidding each other good night.
Back in his room, Ren lit a small mana lantern on his desk and pulled out the notes he¡¯d gathered. Complex rune diagrams filled his pages, layered and dense, but now they felt less overwhelming.
He sat down, rolled up his sleeves, and began tracing the formations again, this time with purpose. Not from panic, not from fear ¡ª but determination.
He would uncover the truth.
And until then, he would live.
¡ª
Chapter 22
Chapter 22
¡ª
The morning air was crisp, tinged with the hum of anticipation that filled the Academy¡¯s open training fields. Ren stood amidst a sea of students, each one murmuring nervously or stretching in preparation. The practical exams were finally here.
Leo clapped a hand on his shoulder. ¡°You ready?¡± His usual cocky smile was a bit more subdued today.
Ren exhaled slowly. ¡°As I¡¯ll ever be.¡±
Davian joined them, rolling his shoulders. ¡°Control, endurance, combat¡they¡¯re going to push us.¡± He glanced at Ren. ¡°I¡¯ve seen the way you focus. You¡¯re going to do fine.¡±
Ren smiled faintly, but his stomach twisted. He couldn¡¯t afford to slip up. Not after everything.
Instructors began calling out names, splitting students into groups. The first challenge was the Sigil Casting Trial ¡ª a timed assessment where each student would have to form a series of sigils from memory, stabilize them, and release them in sequence.
Ren¡¯s group was ushered to a row of stone pedestals, each marked with a target rune. A bell chimed.
He shut out the noise around him. The first sigil: a simple ignition rune. His hand moved with mechanical smoothness, lines and curves drawn perfectly from memory. The sigil glowed a clean, steady red. Release.
Second sigil: a minor shielding formation. His mana flared, and he forced himself to stay measured, slow but precise. The barrier flickered, then held steady.
By the fourth sigil ¡ª a complex compound sigil with branching sub-runes ¡ª Ren could feel his mana strain. He gritted his teeth and pressed on, fingers forming the final loops. It activated, albeit a little weaker than the others.
¡°Time!¡±
Ren dropped his hand and exhaled hard. Around him, several students¡¯ sigils had failed to even stabilize. He wasn¡¯t perfect¡but he had completed them all.
Leo grinned at him from across the field and gave a thumbs-up.
The next challenge was the Control and Endurance Test. Students were directed toward a long, open range with floating orbs that moved erratically. The task: use a single chosen magic type to either keep the orbs aloft in perfect formation or strike them with pinpoint accuracy for three continuous minutes.
Ren chose to control them. He couldn¡¯t afford to waste mana on flashy displays. His smaller pool made this choice obvious.
The instructor blew a whistle.
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Ren closed his eyes, reaching out with his mana. He felt each orb¡¯s position, gently weaving thin threads of force magic around them. He didn¡¯t yank or push ¡ª just steady guidance, subtle adjustments. They bobbed, twisted, wobbled¡but he kept them in line. The final seconds dragged on, sweat beading on his forehead. When the whistle blew again, he let go all at once, trembling slightly.
Applause rippled from the instructors¡¯ platform. Not many had chosen control over offense. Even fewer had succeeded.
And finally, the part Ren dreaded: the combat simulation.
The students were called one by one into sparring rings. Instructors and evaluators watched silently.
Ren¡¯s name was called. He stepped into the ring, his short sword at his hip.
His opponent was exactly the type of noble he expected ¡ª tall, smug, wearing polished academy gear and carrying a rapier that practically shimmered with enchantments.
The instructor raised his hand. ¡°Begin.¡±
The noble lunged immediately, swift and confident. Ren dodged to the side, drawing his sword in the same motion. His footwork ¡ª the product of weeks of practice with Instructor Varian ¡ª saved him from taking a clean hit.
He couldn¡¯t overpower him. But he could out-think him.
The noble struck again, thrusting with mechanical precision. Ren parried, absorbing the blow and redirecting it with minimal force, then pivoted, aiming for a low slash. The noble barely avoided it.
For the next minute, it was a dance of feints and counters. Ren¡¯s breaths came sharp and fast, but he kept his footing light, his mind focused.
Then ¡ª an opening.
The noble overcommitted on a lunge. Ren twisted, slammed his shoulder into the noble¡¯s side, and brought the flat of his sword up under the noble¡¯s chin, stopping just short of contact.
The ring went silent.
The instructor raised his hand. ¡°Match over. Ren wins.¡±
Ren stepped back, heart pounding.
By the end of the day, after all three challenges, Ren met up with Leo and Davian near the fountains outside the training grounds.
¡°You crushed it,¡± Leo said, grinning. ¡°You looked like you actually knew what you were doing.¡±
Davian nudged Ren¡¯s arm. ¡°Seriously. That noble kid looked like he was about to cry.¡±
Ren chuckled softly. The tension was finally easing.
They sat there for a while, watching the sun dip toward the horizon. For the first time in a long while, Ren allowed himself to breathe.
Tomorrow¡that was another problem.
But for today, he had won.
_________________________________________________________________________
As the evening deepened, the three of them sat beneath the lanterns near the courtyard, finishing off bowls of steaming stew from the nearby vendor. Laughter came easily ¡ª relief washing away weeks of tension.
Leo was already rambling about the tournament, making grand predictions of how far each of them would go. Ren smiled and nodded along, though his thoughts drifted.
At some point, Davian stood and stretched.
¡°I¡¯m heading back early,¡± he said casually. ¡°Need to write home.¡±
¡°Tell your folks you passed with flying colors,¡± Leo called after him.
Davian just grinned, but as he turned to leave, his eyes briefly met Ren¡¯s.
Something flickered there. A glimmer of knowing¡ or purpose.
Ren blinked, but before he could think much of it, Davian was already walking down the lantern-lit path, whistling softly.
Ren shook his head, chalking it up to exhaustion.
But somewhere, in the back of his mind, a seed of curiosity was quietly planted.
¡ª
Chapter 23
Chapter 23
The results were posted early in the morning, pinned to shimmering mana boards in the main plaza.
Students crowded around the glowing displays, some holding their breath, others whispering excitedly or pale with anxiety.
Ren pushed through the crowd, heart pounding. Leo and Davian flanked him, silent but tense.
The results shimmered into focus.
1st ¡ª Arlen Vaelor
2nd ¡ª Sylvie Dranholt
3rd ¡ª Roland Evercrest
¡
7th ¡ª Ren Darvell
Ren stared at the neat lettering. His name felt surreal, so formal and distant up there.
Leo let out a whoop and clapped him on the back. ¡°Seventh! You¡¯re a monster!¡±
Ren shook his head, trying to breathe. ¡°You¡¯re ¡ª ?¡±
Leo scanned the list. ¡°Thirteenth.¡± He beamed. ¡°I¡¯ll take it.¡±
Davian¡¯s name appeared in 19th place. He exhaled quietly and gave them a small smile.
All around them, other students burst into cheers, tears, or stunned silence.
Just below the rankings, a second announcement shimmered into view.
All top twenty students are hereby invited to the Grand Selection Ball, to be held at the Imperial Academy Hall tonight.
Attendance is mandatory.
Ren swallowed.
¡°Looks like they¡¯re really making a show of it,¡± Leo said, grinning nervously.
Davian¡¯s smile was tight. ¡°The real tests are just beginning.¡±
They spent the afternoon receiving instructions: formal wear would be provided, carriages would arrive at dusk, and strict protocols were outlined.
Ren found himself pacing in his room, holding the sealed letter of invitation in one hand, the runic note from Obsidian Hall tucked away in his drawer, burning in the back of his mind.
He sat down at his desk, staring at his books. Studying felt impossible.
Instead, he allowed himself one deep breath.
¡°I can¡¯t control everything,¡± he murmured to himself. ¡°Just do what I can¡ and watch.¡±
Evening came.
The sky was a swirl of indigo and gold as enchanted carriages lined up along the Academy¡¯s gates.
The students, clad in pristine formal wear, gathered in small groups, nerves on edge.
Ren adjusted his collar, fidgeted with the unfamiliar cuffs, and tried not to think too hard.
Leo looked over. ¡°You ready for this?¡±
¡°No,¡± Ren admitted.
¡°Same.¡±
Davian chuckled softly. ¡°Good. That means you won¡¯t underestimate anyone.¡±
The grand gates opened.
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And the ball began.
_
The Grand Ballroom of the Imperial Academy gleamed like a dream brought to life.
Massive crystal chandeliers hovered mid-air, casting soft golden light across polished marble floors. Intricate magical runes glimmered beneath the surface, cycling through elegant patterns that only the most experienced mages could decipher.
Ren found himself standing near the grand staircase, wearing formal robes heavier and more ornate than anything he¡¯d ever worn before. His collar itched, and the unfamiliar weight of decorative mana crystals sewn into his cuffs felt like wearing a foreign armor.
Leo appeared beside him, fidgeting with his sleeves. ¡°We look ridiculous.¡±
¡°We look like bait,¡± Ren muttered back.
Davian laughed softly. ¡°No, we look like prizes.¡±
And that¡¯s exactly how it felt.
Noble heirs, powerful merchants, and high-ranking Academy figures filled the ballroom. Conversations flowed like carefully rehearsed duels ¡ª smiles veiling sharp barbs, pleasantries layered with hidden implications.
The students who had placed in the top twenty were the center of attention. Elegant ladies and sharply dressed young men approached one after another, offering compliments and subtle invitations.
Ren nodded politely, careful not to commit to anything, but every conversation felt like being measured, weighed, and filed away for some future agenda.
At the far end of the room, a raised platform stood with velvet drapes and a shimmering mana barrier that pulsed faintly. A golden podium waited, and seated behind it were the Academy¡¯s highest-ranking instructors, along with several unfamiliar dignitaries.
Headmaster Lysander took the stage.
His voice rang through the hall, smooth and commanding. ¡°Tonight, we gather not just to celebrate excellence but to reward it. The future of our Empire stands here among us. And so¡ we honor the brightest stars.¡±
One by one, the top five students were called to the stage and presented with their awards ¡ª rare spellbooks, custom-tailored artifacts, and items that could shape entire careers.
When they called Rank 7, Ren¡¯s heart skipped.
The spotlight crystal shifted, illuminating him as the crowd gently parted.
He ascended the stage slowly, the world blurring at the edges.
Lysander handed him a small velvet box. ¡°For exceptional skill, diligence, and promise.¡±
Ren opened it carefully. Inside rested a palm-sized mana crystal ¡ª but not just any crystal. Its core pulsed with shifting hues, and faint runic lines etched along its surface seemed to twist and reform as he looked at them.
He didn¡¯t recognize the script.
¡°The Sigil of Foundation,¡± Lysander explained softly. ¡°A gift rarely given. It strengthens memory, clarity, and control ¡ª all things you will need.¡±
Ren bowed, unable to find words.
He descended the stage and returned to his place, his mind still spinning.
The ball resumed.
Noble children approached him with smiles that didn¡¯t reach their eyes. ¡°I hope you¡¯ll consider studying abroad.¡±
¡°Perhaps my family¡¯s estate would be a good place for your training.¡±
¡°We¡¯ve heard much of your talent.¡±
Leo clapped him on the back, laughing in relief. ¡°You survived.¡±
They retreated to the side of the ballroom, away from the heaviest scrutiny.
Ren finally let out a long breath. ¡°This is exhausting.¡±
¡°That¡¯s politics,¡± Davian murmured, sipping something sparkling from a thin glass.
Ren caught a strange flicker of expression on Davian¡¯s face ¡ª almost like regret.
Then, a small hush fell across the room as representatives from Obsidian Hall stepped forward.
A young woman with silver hair and violet eyes ¡ª unmistakably noble ¡ª addressed the room.
¡°We at Obsidian Hall extend our congratulations to the Empire¡¯s rising stars,¡± she said smoothly. Her gaze lingered on Ren for half a heartbeat too long. ¡°Know that doors are open for those who seek greater paths.¡±
Polite applause followed, but Ren felt his heart tighten.
The rest of the night passed in a haze of formality, careful conversations, and delicate footwork.
As the ball drew to a close and most guests drifted toward carriages and shuttles, Ren slipped out onto the balcony. Cool night air brushed against his face.
He closed his eyes.
Leo appeared beside him. ¡°Tomorrow,¡± he said quietly.
Ren nodded. ¡°Tomorrow.¡±
They turned to head back inside.
And that¡¯s when the Headmaster¡¯s voice rang out once more from the stage, clear and sharp, cutting through the night like a blade:
¡°One final announcement.¡±
The entire ballroom stilled.
Headmaster Lysander¡¯s gaze swept the room. ¡°All those who have been invited tonight¡ will gather at the main gates at dawn.¡±
He smiled faintly.
¡°The Academy has prepared a dungeon exploration trial.¡±
Gasps, whispers, a ripple of unease.
Ren¡¯s heart dropped.
And just like that, the night ended not with celebration ¡ª but with the weight of what was to come.
The End
Hey guys, tbh i never liked this story and i just wanted it to end as soon as possible. I hope you''ll forgive me for giving up on it and support me on my new fiction. I like the premise a lot lot more and so do my viewers ive gotten 4x the followers in 1/4 the time period and i like writing it a lot more. Hope you guys will support me there as well and as always peace.
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