Eight years ago, in the northern reaches of Eirenthal, there stood a land known as Duskwatch—a stronghold of swordsmen, steel, and honor.
It was the territory of House Veyron, a noble family feared and respected across the kingdom.
Their strength wasn't just from skill or bloodline.
It came from something deeper—the divine beast that lived within them.
Divine beasts—mystical entities of immense power—are not born of this world.They cannot be trained, summoned, or tamed.Instead, they choose a host… and become one with their body.
From that union comes Eather—the raw, elemental force drawn from the divine beast's essence.
It flows through the veins of humanity like second breath, allowing the gifted to defy nature, sharpen steel with thought, and cut through monsters as if through air.
The Veyron family was chosen by one of the rarest and most dangerous beasts in history:
The Ash Crow—a creature of living black fire and darkness that devours the soul.
Its appearance marked an era. Its awakening foretold disaster or salvation.
For generations, the Veyrons wielded its power in service to the kingdom.
They were heroes. War champions. Dragon-slayers.
Until one day, they were erased.
A dragon descended upon the North, ancient and enraged. Duskwatch was reduced to fire and bone. No warning. No allies. No aid.The Veyron name, once chanted in songs… was declared cursed.
And from the ashes, only one survivor remained.
******
—Back to the precent—
The light flared—For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then—the wood groaned. A splintering sound cut through the silence as a thin black line cracked down its center.
The number appear
99.
No one bother to cheer or react just a few whisper on how did he even survive that massacre
"How did he even survive the massacre…?"
"Isn't he from that house?"
"I thought they were all wiped out."
Liora's eyes narrowed behind her glasses
"Unfortunate," she said flatly. "I won't be considering him for mentorship."
Dorgan crossed his arms, unmoved. "Me neither. He looks fragile."
Even Zane, usually expressionless, shook his head. "I've already made my choices. He doesn't fit."
Principal Orvahn let out a soft sigh. At least there's a survivor…"You pass," he said.
Kael stepped back slowly.
As he returned to the crowd, students pulled away from him. Eyes darted his way, then quickly looked elsewhere. Like he was a ghost. Or a curse.
Lyssandra stared at him.
"Ninety-nine… He's not that weak. Still nowhere near my level," she said, voice low. "But to show his face here? After what happened to his family?"
Ryven scoffed. "No idea what he's thinking. Only a fool would walk into this place with that name."
Lucien didn't react. His thoughts were already ahead—on the academy, the training, the challenges to come. Kael didn't concern him. Not yet.
Liora folded her arms. "He may be a student now, but who could possibly train him?"
A voice drawled behind them.
"What a pain in the ass…"
All heads turned.
An instructor stood in the back, stretching like he'd just rolled out of bed. Crimson-red hair. Loose black sleeves, chest exposed. A thick fur cloak trailed behind him, and a faint tattoo coiled up the side of his neck. His face said it all: tired, unimpressed, and too old for nonsense.
Salvius Veil.
The "Sleeping Blade."The laziest instructor at Gravemount—famously unmotivated, constantly late, and widely considered a waste of talent. Most of his students either quit or transferred within weeks.
And yet—his skill in battle was legendary.
"You bastard!" Liora snapped. "Don't tell me you just got here."
"Huh? Yeah." He yawned. "Just now."
"Salvius Veil!" she growled.
He ignored her and raised a hand, pointing lazily toward Kael.
"I want him."
The courtyard went still.
"You mean… him?" someone asked.
Salvius scratched his jaw. "Yeah. Who else?"
All eyes turned to Principal Orvahn.
He hesitated… then gave a slow nod. "If a teacher is willing to take him, we won't stand in the way."
But his thoughts said something else:
He'll probably give up on the kid like the others. Kael will quit eventually and request a new instructor…
Salvius smirked and crossed his arms, his gaze locked on Kael.
Kael stared back at Salvius, expression unreadable. He didn't speak or react.
But he had passed. That was what mattered.
Inside Gravemount Academy, his real journey would begin.
He had lost his family at just eight years old. Coming here wasn't about prestige or legacy—it was a stepping stone toward revenge.
Against the king.
Against everyone who had a hand in the massacre of House Veyron.
But before anything else, he needed to grow stronger. Blend in.
Wait.
Because the key to it all—the family's ancient techniques, their weapons, their secrets—were locked inside the academy walls. Not in vaults or battlefields, but inside the museum the king had built… using the stolen relics of his house.
After the dragon attack that wiped out his family, the king arrived too late. Or pretended to. He spared Kael's life, claiming mercy. Said the boy was no threat, since he hadn't inherited the Ash Crow.
But the fool had no idea.
The Ash Crow was no ordinary beast. It was a rare divine-type—its presence so elusive, even its chosen host was hard to detect.
[Brat, you seriously disappointed me. Is this how I trained you?]
The voice echoed in Kael's head—gruff, old, and annoyed.
"Sorry. I just…"
[Tch. Don't disappoint me again.]
Kael nodded slightly. The Ash Crow was temperamental. Sharp-tongued. Grumpy.
But it was powerful—perhaps the strongest of its kind.
"U-Um… excuse me…"
A soft voice pulled him back to reality. He turned to see the white-haired girl from earlier tapping his shoulder, looking nervous.
"Th-thank you… for earlier," she said quietly.
Kael blinked. "For what?"
She lowered her head, fidgeting. "I… I just appreciated the encouragement. Not many people talk to someone like me…"
He didn't remember saying much. But he gave her a small nod.
"This was my second time applying," she said, forcing a shaky smile. "I failed last year. I didn't believe I'd make it this time, but… I scored 80."
"I see. Congrats."
"You too," she replied, smiling a little more.
Kael tilted his head. She was strange. Kind, but… why was she talking to him? Most people avoided him like the plague.
Before he could ask, a loud voice rang across the courtyard.
"Those who passed—head into the main building! Your orientation will begin shortly."
"To those who failed…" the instructor paused, softer now, "Good luck next year."