Rain poured heavily—
Lucien stood in the middle of a city reduced to ruins, surrounded by crumbling buildings and scattered corpses. Pools of rainwater covered the ground, reaching his ankles, mixing with the blood flowing freely through the streets. The stench of iron filled the air, blending with the dampness of the rain, creating a suffocating atmosphere.
As he lifted his gaze, a vortex of shadows appeared in the sky—like a dimensional rift, crudely torn open. From the darkness, a creature slowly crawled out. It started with a pitch-black hand, more like an absence of matter than something tangible, ripping through the vortex as if it were forcing itself back into a world that had no place for it.
Lucien remained still, unmoving. Amidst the echoes of explosions and screams of agony, he simply watched, his expression vacant.
When the entity fully emerged, it raised its head, revealing a pair of silver spiral eyes that locked onto Lucien.
Behind those eyes, familiar faces appeared faintly. A stern-looking man with graying black hair at his temples. A gentle woman with long, flowing brown hair. And two others—a young man and a young woman.
They were all silent, their eyes closed, as if life had already abandoned them.
They were his family. The ones who had once given him a world, now mere fragments of an endless abyss. Were they still alive, or had they truly vanished? Lucien did not know.
He stared at his palm, letting the rain wash over his skin. Slowly, his fingers curled into a fist, trembling—whether from the cold or from something deeper, he wasn't sure. Droplets fell, mingling with a thick red liquid—he wasn't sure where it came from either.
The shadowed creature stepped forward. Its footprints left dark cracks that spread like the roots of death. Its silver spiral eyes spun slowly, reading something buried deep within Lucien.
"Ethereal—"
Its voice was hoarse, echoing from all directions, with no clear source.
The last thing Lucien felt was the creature's black hand sinking into his chest, piercing his heart without resistance.
Lucien felt nothing. At least, not for now.
A memory so horrifying. A tragedy that shattered him, tearing apart his mind and humanity. An event that took everything from him five years ago.
—
"Lucien!"
The voice jolted him back. His vision shifted, returning to reality.
Beside him sat an elderly man with a silver beard, sharp green eyes, and a long robe adorned with the Sanctum of Blacksmith emblem. Professor Aldric Valtor—the only person who had saved Lucien from destruction five years ago.
"Nervous?" Aldric asked calmly.
Lucien shook his head. "Not really," he replied briefly. His voice was flat, nearly cold. His mind wasn't fully back yet, still wandering through the ruins and shadows of devastation.
The tragedy that struck Aldenridge, the homeland of the Ashthorn noble family, had erased the city from existence. Nothing remained—not a single survivor, except for Lucien.
Even the Grandmasters did not fully understand what had happened that night. The cause, the end—everything remained a mystery.
Lucien was the only witness, and he gave no answers.
"Even the most talented people feel anxious on their first day at the academy," Aldric teased lightly.
Lucien rested his face against his hand, gazing out of the carriage window. Outside, the city was alive as usual. Some young men proudly displayed their Sigil Hammers—a symbol of their abilities.
"I'm not talented. So why should I be nervous?" Lucien turned to Aldric.
The old man only smiled, different from five years ago when they first met. Back then, Aldric always lifted his chin, as if boasting about something. Now, he smiled more often, especially when it came to Lucien.
"Why did you bother picking me up? Aren't you busy? Don't tell me you abandoned your work again…"
Aldric scratched his head. "I just happened to have some free time," he said, avoiding Lucien's gaze.
Lucien observed him for a moment. Liar.
He sighed, turning back to the window without saying another word.
Minutes passed in silence before Aldric finally spoke again.
"Lucien, do you still remember what happened that night?"
Lucien didn't answer right away. He knew what Aldric meant. The tragedy.
"Yes."
His answer was short, cold. Aldric exhaled quietly.
"This academy isn't as glorious as it seems," Aldric finally said.
The Sanctum of Blacksmith was not just an academy; it was a prestigious institution that produced many of the empire's most powerful figures. But behind its achievements, it was also a battlefield for nobles hungry for power.
"And yet, you still want me to enter it."
Lucien didn't need to turn to make his meaning clear.
Aldric gave a faint smile. "I just want you to be careful. Even though you're entering under my name, sooner or later, everyone will find out about your past. There's a saying among the nobility: 'A fallen noble is no noble at all.'"
Lucien nodded slightly. Since his family's demise, the Ashthorn name had lost its weight. The Baron title he was supposed to inherit had disappeared. Now, he was simply Lucien Ashthorn—the last survivor.
"That doesn't matter," he said flatly. "I never wanted to play the role of a noble. I only wanted…"
He didn't finish his sentence. His words trailed off.
Aldric watched him in silence before finally smiling faintly.
"It seems like you're finally ready for your own story."
—
Time passed until their carriage finally arrived at the heart of the empire.
Before them, the grand gates of Sanctum of Blacksmith stood open, marking the beginning of a new journey.
The carriage came to a slow stop, and two figures stepped out. One was a man in a gray eastern-style robe, while the other wore a white shirt and black trousers.
"Well then, we'll meet again inside," Aldric said before departing.
Lucien nodded, saying nothing.
At that moment, a cold wind blew, carrying fallen leaves with it. In the blink of an eye, Aldric had vanished, soaring away with his Windblade, leaving Lucien standing before the gate.
Lucien lifted his gaze, taking in the towering entrance of the academy. For a brief moment, he was frozen, admiring the grandeur of the place—though his past made him reluctant to be drawn into its magnificence.
After a moment, he finally stepped forward, joining the flow of other new students arriving.
From up close, he could see just how extraordinary this place was. Its walls were built from solid black stone, adorned with ancient sigil engravings that faintly glowed.
Behind him, the gates slowly closed, severing all ties between the academy and the outside world.
Lucien continued walking among the other new students, though his thoughts weren't on the buzzing conversations about the Qualification Trials.
He was more interested in observing his surroundings.
This Sanctum was far larger than he had imagined. Rather than just an academy, it resembled a massive fortress, standing tall atop a highland. From a distance, he could see a steep cliff leading down to a mist-covered valley—perhaps one of the paths to the infamous Abyssal Labyrinth.
Elsewhere, towering stone spires stood with thin smoke rising from their peaks. That must be the Forge Towers, where Sigil Blacksmiths crafted weapons and equipment.
But what caught his attention the most was the Sigil Monolith at the heart of the academy's square. A massive bronze-black stone, filled with sigil engravings that shifted slowly as if alive.
The heart of the academy.
"This academy is too vast to be called an academy… It's a city," he murmured.
Above them, a transparent dome stretched high, shielding the academy from external influences.
At the center of the square, in front of the Sigil Monolith, a stage had been set. There, a middle-aged man in a red robe stood waiting. His robe was adorned with sigil patterns of various types—Elemental, Bestial, Ethereal, and Temporal.
He had a sharp, curved mustache, with a monocle perched on his right eye.
Lucien knew him.
Not just him—all the new students knew him.
That man was Vulcan Draegor, one of the Twelve Grandmaster Blacksmiths of the empire. The current Headmaster of the academy and one of the strongest Blacksmiths still alive.
As the gates fully closed, sealing them inside—his voice thundered across the academy.
"Welcome to Sanctum of Blacksmith!"