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đź“– Chapter 1: The Forgotten Class
Part 2: Arrival at Ironveil
The road to Ironveil wound through barren hills and cracked earth, as though even nature had abandoned the land. Jofyn walked for half a day before the jagged outline of the academy finally rose into view.
He had imagined high towers like the glowing spires of Solari, or grand steps of marble like the ancient Glacium halls. Instead, what he saw looked more like a fortress in decline—its walls scarred with age, moss creeping over the stone, and smoke rising lazily from a half-broken forge at the center courtyard.
Two cracked statues flanked the gate. Their details had eroded so badly that Jofyn couldn't tell if they were meant to be heroes, gods, or simply smiths. Their faces had been wiped away by time.
At the entrance, a rusted sign creaked in the wind:
IRONVEIL ACADEMY — Flames that Forge the Future.
The words would have sounded noble, if not for the crow perched on top, cawing as if laughing at them.
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Inside, students milled about, their chatter filling the courtyard. Jofyn counted barely thirty of them—so few compared to the hundreds that entered other academies. Their robes were mismatched, some already frayed, as though even the academy itself lacked the money to outfit them properly.
He felt the stares immediately.
"Another one, huh?" a boy with slicked black hair muttered to his friends, smirking. "Guess the dump never stops collecting trash."
The group laughed.
Jofyn adjusted his cloak and kept walking, gripping his hammer tightly. His chest burned, but he said nothing.
From the corner, two girls whispered. One, with fiery-red hair tied in a messy braid, folded her arms. "Pathetic. Why would anyone even come here? He looks like he's never seen a spell in his life."
Her friend shrugged. "Better here than starving in the fields, I guess. Ironveil is where all the failures crawl."
The words stung, but Jofyn pretended not to hear. He had heard worse in Makok.
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His path led to the central hall, where a tall man stood waiting. His beard was streaked with gray, his robes patched yet clean, and his eyes—sharp, bright, alive—contrasted everything else about the academy.
"New arrival?" the man asked warmly, voice carrying like a hammer's ring.
"Yes, sir," Jofyn said.
The man's gaze fell on the hammer strapped to Jofyn's back. Something flickered in his eyes, and he smiled faintly. "A forger's heir, then? Good. We have too few who respect the hammer anymore. I am Professor Deylen Kael, instructor of the Forge Core class."
"Forge Core?" Jofyn repeated.
Professor Kael chuckled. "Yes, boy. While the other academies boast of Flame Cores, Frost Cores, or Storm Cores, Ironveil tends the Forge Core—the path of creation. It is not flashy, and most dismiss it. But every great weapon, every enchanted relic, every tool of war was born of fire and forge." His eyes gleamed. "Those who truly master it, create not only weapons… but concepts themselves."
The words stirred something in Jofyn's chest, though he didn't yet understand why.
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Professor Kael led him to a smaller chamber, where only two other students sat waiting.
One was the fiery-haired girl Jofyn had noticed earlier. She leaned against her chair, expression sharp, clearly unimpressed with the world. "So he's the third? Great. Our class is complete."
The other was a stocky boy with sandy-brown hair and a round face. He fidgeted nervously, glancing at Jofyn, then quickly looking away as if afraid of eye contact.
Professor Kael spread his arms. "Welcome, the three of you. You are the Forge Class of Ironveil. You may not realize it yet, but the path you've chosen—or perhaps, the path chosen for you—is one of immense difficulty. Others will mock you, belittle you, even try to crush you. But here, you will learn to shape not only steel… but yourselves."
He paused, his voice dropping with weight.
"Know this: every path in Elyndra is measured by its Core Layers."
The students straightened at the word. Jofyn leaned forward.
"The Core Ranking is simple in appearance, but infinite in depth," Kael continued. "There are eight layers, each represented by a core color, each revealing new mysteries."
He raised a hand, conjuring a faint ember that shifted color as he spoke:
1. Layer One: Red Core — The Forge Core. The beginning. Fire and passion. Here you learn foundation—how to shape, create, and channel energy.
2. Layer Two: Orange Core — The Tempering Core. Endurance and stability. The body and will are strengthened.
3. Layer Three: Yellow Core — The Shaping Core. Form and concept. Power begins to take the shape of ideas.
4. Layer Four: Green Core — The Binding Core. Unity. Enchantments, infusions, merging of materials and magic.
5. Layer Five: Blue Core — The Flowing Core. Adaptability. Energy flows like water; creation begins to mimic life.
6. Layer Six: Indigo Core — The Resonant Core. Echo and harmony. Creations carry will, voice, and resonance of the forger's soul.
7. Layer Seven: Violet Core — The Transcendent Core. Ascension. Power surpasses normal limits, and creations embody higher truths.
8. Layer Eight: White Core — The Genesis Core. Perfection. The realm of pure creation. Few in history have touched it. Fewer still survived it."
The ember winked out, and Kael's eyes swept over them.
"Each of you will awaken at Layer One. Each will struggle, bleed, and claw toward the next. But remember—" His voice hardened. "A forge does not coddle. It burns, it breaks, and only what survives is worthy."
The red-haired girl scoffed. "Sounds poetic, but everyone knows Forge Cores are useless in battle. Who needs to 'create concepts' when they can just burn their enemies with a single firestorm?"
Professor Kael smiled faintly. "The foolish think only of destruction. The wise understand that creation shapes the world long after fire burns out."
His gaze lingered on Jofyn. "And some… are born with a spark the world cannot yet name."
Jofyn stiffened, gripping the handle of his father's hammer. He didn't understand why the professor was looking at him that way, but a shiver ran down his spine, as if something had been set in motion the moment he entered these halls.
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