Ezram and Montelia
The kingdoms of the lesser humans—at least, that's what the game called them. In this world, there were many races: elves, kaleeds, dwarves, sea nymphs, vampires, wolf-kin, and, of course, dragons.
The only reason this world hadn't collapsed into absolute chaos was because of the dragons. They were the enforcers of balance, the ancient beings that kept peace among the races. But peace didn't mean the absence of conflict. Squabbles were frequent—both between races and within them. Even humans were split: the lesser and the higher.
Ezram and Montelia were the kingdoms of the lesser humans. Albion belonged to the higher. At least, that's how it seemed. The truth was messier. Albion held that title because its people were, for reasons no one fully understood, simply stronger. They claimed divine lineage—descendants of some ancient god. No one could prove it, but the power disparity at the start of a person's journey in the World of Ascension was real. That didn't mean those from other kingdoms couldn't surpass them. It just meant Albion's citizens had a head start.
But a head start means nothing without the will to keep running.
Still, the discrimination lingered—especially at the Arcane Legacy.
The Academy.
Run by dragons, it was the pinnacle of learning, the forge where heroes were born. All races fought for a place there. It was the apex of knowledge, the crown jewel of power. And for good reason: gods existed in this world—but they didn't rule just one. They ruled many. And when boredom struck, they turned those worlds into games.
The Arcane Legacy existed to raise warriors—champions who could face heroes from other worlds in brutal contests to save their own. It had happened before. It would happen again.
Crackle.
"Haah…" Anna's eyes shot open. The first thing she saw was the night sky.
"Huh?" she muttered, frowning. She tried to move.
Pain.
"Kyaa!" she screamed.
"Can you not attract ether beasts?" a voice drawled nearby.
She turned her head, teeth clenched. A young man sat beside a fire, lazily chewing roasted rabbit.
"You…"
Memories crashed into her. Her eyes widened in shock—then narrowed in fury.
Her spatial ring.
The potions.
She glanced at his hand. Her ring—her ring—was on his finger.
"My ring… give it back," she growled. Even speaking sent fresh waves of pain down her spine.
He tilted his head, touching his chin thoughtfully. "It seems you still don't understand the gravity of the situation."
"I don't know what you did to me," she snarled, "but if you don't give me back my ring right now, I will melt your bones."
Her eyes blazed with fierce blue light.
He looked at her for a long moment.
And then it returned.
Dread.
"Stop breathing," he said.
The moment the words left his lips, her body responded.
"KYAAAAAAAAA!"
She was burning from the inside. Pain ripped through her in searing waves—worse than anything she'd ever endured. Her broken bones trembled under her own weight, but that pain was nothing compared to this.
Her body wasn't suffocating—it was forcing her to stop breathing. But how could she? She would die!
Her lungs spasmed, her body flailed, her mind fractured. She tried to hold her breath, to obey, but instinct kicked in every time. Her body gasped, and the pain redoubled. She squirmed, screamed, cried, her movements wild and useless.
"Noisy," he muttered.
He took another bite of rabbit and secured the rest to his belt—new clothes from her ring. With a grunt, he climbed the nearest tree and sat on a branch, legs swinging. From above, he watched her writhe and scream below.
He had never seen her cry before.
That meant the pain was... sufficient.
"Good," he said.
There was no satisfaction in his tone. No gloating. Just chilling indifference.
He leaned against the trunk and stared up at the moon through the leaves.
"Hm… the North Pole it is."
He closed his eyes and drifted to sleep as if the girl below him wasn't enduring hell.
"HELP! PLEASE! UGH! AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"