— So this is it.
A young man with a rough, gravelly voice opened the door. The moment he did, the smell of stale air hit him. The room was modest: a simple wooden bed stood in the back right corner, beside a glass bay window that opened onto a small balcony. On the left side of the room stood a desk, a chair, and a wardrobe — all carved from the same golden wood. The walls were painted a plain beige.
At the center of the room lay a violet and gold rug adorned with twin dragon motifs that immediately caught the eye. Just to the right of the entrance, another wooden door led to a washroom. The young man dropped his canvas bag next to the bed and threw himself onto the mattress.
— It's more comfortable than the old man's place…
he muttered, sinking into the cushioned mattress. He sat at the edge of the bed, pulled his bag close, and emptied it. Inside were only a few clothes and a strange letter.
On the envelope, written in bold handwriting:
"To be read once you've arrived at the academy."
A faint smile touched his lips as he imagined the harsh, gruff voice of the man who had written it.
— Not really his style…
he thought, unfolding the letter.
⸻
**"Arthur,
If you're reading this, it means you've finally grown enough spine to fly on your own — away from that crazy old man you call an uncle.
From now on, you're entering a world full of sharks. And you? You're just a small fish.
But you've always been a clever fish. So learn from those sharks the way you learned to hunt.
As for me, there's nothing else you need to know.
— Connor Scheiller."**
⸻
— Even in writing, he's as cold as ever…
Arthur muttered, folding the letter and placing it on the desk. He stretched for a moment, then turned his gaze toward the washroom door.
— Well… the trip was long.
He opened the door and stepped inside. The washroom was simple. As he approached the mirror, he froze.
Staring back at him was a young man with shoulder-length ebony curls, piercing green eyes, a solid build, and a claw-shaped scar slashing across his right cheek.
He splashed some water on his face, trying to refresh himself — maybe to ground himself.
— I should take advantage of the quiet to explore while the academy's still empty…
Moments later, he was wandering through the academy's gardens, surrounded by vibrant flora he had never seen before — from vivid red blooms to midnight blue petals, and every color in between. Towering trees brought a touch of the wild, breaking the otherwise rigid symmetry of the academy's colossal towers.
He passed the main entrance, an immense archway casting a welcoming shadow. Upon entering the building, he was greeted by a finely carved statue of an elven woman holding a staff, its tip crowned by a floating mana crystal.
He continued onward, walking through cold and silent halls. The floors were polished marble, the walls lined with mosaic murals. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, but warm orange mana crystals added a soft glow to the interior. Wooden benches dotted the corridor, and massive bookshelves lined the walls.
On the floor, green and gold lily-shaped emblems decorated long rugs that gave the space an almost regal elegance. Columns topped with dragon statues enhanced the sense of grandeur and magical might.
Eventually, he stepped into the inner courtyard, where the sunlight momentarily blinded him.
— Tss…
He raised a hand to shield his eyes. Birds chirped in the background, and the garden's diversity was even more striking here. He noticed that the courtyard had four archways, each facing a cardinal direction — north, south, east, and west.
— I wasn't expecting anyone else to be here this early.
A calm and soothing voice interrupted his thoughts.
Arthur turned and saw someone seated on the edge of the central fountain. The fountain, sculpted in the shape of a blooming flower, was made of pristine white stone, from which pure water flowed. The student seated there contrasted starkly with the surroundings: dressed in a minimalist black mage's uniform, his long black hair framed piercing amber eyes. In his hands rested a worn brown leather book.
— Who are you?
Arthur's raspy voice held no warmth. There was a trace of suspicion in his tone.
— Reivar Fermahn. And you?
Arthur stepped closer, sizing him up.
— Arthur Scheiller.
Reivar offered a faint smile.
— Arthur Scheiller… You can relax. We're both future students of this academy, after all.
What unsettled Arthur wasn't the stranger's words — it was the sheer amount of mana emanating from him. It was far too large for a normal mage.
— What's your rank? Arthur asked, his tone calm but watchful.
— Let's say I'm a second-order mage… mostly thanks to the potential of my spell, Reivar answered with the same composed tone.
— And you? What's your rank?
— Third-order, Arthur replied without flinching.
Reivar's brows lifted slightly.
— Judging by your build, I would've guessed you were at least my level… But no matter. It's up to the strong to protect the weak, isn't it?
He smiled and offered his hand.
Arthur didn't take it.
— Who said I was weak? he asked, stepping closer.
Reivar slowly pulled his hand back. His smile faded, replaced by a colder, more measured gaze.
— Isn't it the truth?
The two now stood face to face, tension thick in the air.
— If you want, Arthur said quietly, I can prove how wrong you are.
— I'd love that, replied Reivar, his eyes narrowing. But don't expect me to hold back. Let's do this properly. There's an arena in the academy — it'll be more appropriate there.
The two students stood face to face at the center of the arena. The ground beneath them was sandy, and towering walls surrounded the space, topped with stone bleachers. Massive marble columns, each carved with the head of a dragon, gave the arena an air of solemn grandeur.
Arthur absentmindedly kicked at the sand while Reivar scratched the back of his head, a wide grin on his face.
— Shall we begin?
Arthur didn't answer. Instead, he lunged at Reivar and threw a left hook — immediately blocked. He followed with a swift kick to the chest. Reivar caught his leg and tried to sweep him, but Arthur jumped and countered with a spinning kick. Reivar blocked again but was still sent skidding backward.
As Arthur rushed in to capitalize, his leg was suddenly snared by the tongue of a massive toad that had appeared behind him.
— Relying on brute force, huh? Interesting… But magic has a lot more to offer.
Reivar rose into the air, riding the back of a massive bird. Arthur broke free from the toad's grasp, only to be blindsided by a monkey-like spirit that slammed him into the ground.
From above, Reivar dove toward him, the giant bird diving alongside. Arthur rolled to the side just in time. The bird vanished in a shimmer before hitting the ground.
Arthur sprang to his feet and charged again. This time, from a distance, he swiped the air with his right hand. Reivar's expression shifted as five clean gashes suddenly tore through the upper part of his torso.
— Ethereal claws? That's unexpected…
Arthur pressed the attack. Reivar, mid-regeneration, struggled to evade, still taking a few hits.
(He can regenerate?)
— What's wrong? Not fast enough to dodge everything? Arthur taunted.
Annoyed, Reivar raised a hand ,his regeneration stopped and a massive worm-like creature burst from the ground behind Arthur and swallowed him whole. But within seconds, the beast was sliced open from the inside. Arthur emerged, slashing his way free — only to be surrounded by flying, sharp-toothed fish.
He prepared to retaliate, but they vanished in an instant.
— What?
— Sorry, that was just a distraction, Reivar called out.
Arthur felt something behind him. A punch, heavy with mana, hit him square in the back and sent him flying. He crashed down, briefly losing consciousness, before landing on his feet and spitting a thin stream of blood.
(I can't heal like he can…)
— To be honest, Reivar said, approaching, you're not as weak as I thought.
As he spoke, a new spirit — a floating fish, unlike the others — materialized beside him.
Arthur lunged again, but a sudden burst of light blue lightning exploded between them, creating a shockwave that knocked them both back.
As the dust settled, a new figure stood between them.
He had shoulder-length blond hair, styled in a wild mess, and wore a baggy uniform that somehow fit perfectly. A confident smile tugged at his lips, and rings gleamed on his fingers.
— Mind telling me who you two are? Reivar asked, amused.
— Leinher Haushwallt, the newcomer replied. From where I stood, it looked like you were about to kill each other. Thought I'd step in before things got bloody.
Arthur watched him silently, eyes narrowed.
— Don't look at me like that. You've got murder in your eyes, Leinher said casually.
Then, turning to Reivar, he added:
— Anyway. I take back what I said earlier, Arthur Scheiller. You're not as weak as I assumed.
He offered his hand. Arthur studied it for a moment.
— Your arrogance is… somewhat justified, Arthur replied, finally shaking it — putting an end to their quarrel.
— Good. That's better. Come with me, Leinher said. You need medical attention.
⸻
A few minutes later, they stepped into the academy's infirmary.
Two people in white coats turned toward them, clearly in the middle of a lively discussion. One looked fairly old, the other in his thirties, with an unshaven beard and tired eyes. The room had eight beds, large green curtains, and a much cooler temperature than outside. One wall was lined with various medical tools. At the center stood a large black leather exam table.
— Got ourselves an overconfident patient, Leinher announced.
The younger medic chuckled.
— Seriously? Classes haven't even started yet, he said as he approached. Sit on the table and take your shirt off.
Arthur complied, revealing a surprisingly solid, muscular torso.
— Damn. Didn't expect that, the medic muttered as he inspected the injuries. He pressed around the bruises.
— Cracked rib, fractured jaw, some minor lacerations… What the hell did you fight, a swarm of spirits?
— More or less, Arthur replied flatly.
— Reivar didn't hold back, Leinher added with a smirk.
— Well, at least you're not dead. I can work with that.
The medic placed a hand on Arthur's chest. A green light radiated from his palm, illuminating the entire room. Arthur's wounds closed almost instantly.
— There. Good as new. But try not to get in fights with overpowered mages every week, alright?
— Thanks, doc.
Leinher tilted his head, curious.
— You don't look tired at all. Doesn't healing use up a ton of mana?
— Why? the medic replied, confused.
Then, smiling, he added:
— Ah, I see. No worries. I've got a pretty large mana pool.
— Good to know. Thanks again, doc, Leinher said as he waved and exited with Arthur. The older medic nodded as they left…