The morning sun poured its light across the sprawling grounds of Aetherion Academy, the pride of the human realm. Marble towers rose toward the sky, banners fluttered with the emblem of a blazing star, and the air thrummed with anticipation.
Today was no ordinary day.
All across the courtyard, students rushed in groups, their faces lit with excitement and nerves. Some bragged loudly about the power they were sure to awaken—dreaming of flames, lightning, or the strength to shatter mountains. Others whispered anxiously, clutching their uniforms as though afraid the world might judge them unworthy.
"Today I'll prove I'm more than just a commoner!" one boy shouted, punching the air.
"Ha! Don't get ahead of yourself. Only a handful ever awaken above B-rank," a friend replied with a smirk.
Everywhere, laughter, chatter, and nervous banter filled the academy grounds. The test was a once-in-a-lifetime event: on the day a student turned fifteen, their inner strength was revealed—measured and ranked by the academy's sacred crystal. It was the moment that decided their place in the world.
Some dreamed of becoming Heroes, defenders of humanity. Others simply longed for recognition, a chance to rise above their station. And a few… quietly feared the humiliation of awakening as nothing more than an "F."
The teachers stood watch from the academy steps, cloaked in formal robes, their stern gazes doing little to dampen the students' excitement.
The air itself felt heavier, charged with expectation. For within these walls, destinies would be unveiled, legends would begin—and lives would be broken.
A boy with unkempt black hair and quiet dark, void-like eyes walked slowly through the academy gates. His steps lacked urgency, as though the excitement that lit up every other student had skipped him entirely. Where others rushed forward with bright chatter, he moved like a shadow slipping through the crowd—present, yet unnoticed.
Yet, the unnoticed boy began to draw eyes. Students who caught sight of him started to whisper.
"Hey, look—it's Kael."
"Still dragging himself around like a ghost…"
"Hah, today's test will crush him for sure."
A few snickers followed, the sound sharp as knives in the charged silence.
"He should just quit before embarrassing himself."
"Hard to believe he's still here after all these years."
The quiet mockery rippled behind his back, but Kael Draven didn't flinch. He walked through the whispers without pause, as if they were nothing new. As if he had long since grown used to them.
Before Kael could draw any more eyes, the whispers suddenly died down.
The shuffle of feet and shifting gazes told the story—everyone's attention had already moved elsewhere.
One by one, the boys drifted behind him, their eyes fixed ahead.
"Hey, look—it's Valen."
"Whoa… he looks even more handsome today."
"Compared to his good-for-nothing cousin Kael, Valen's a completely different league."
"Today, he'll definitely shine."
Admiration swelled as students moved aside for the tall figure approaching. Valen Draven walked with effortless confidence, his presence stealing the air Kael had never owned.
Valen came to a stop beside Kael. For a moment, his sharp features softened, and his eyes lingered on his cousin with something close to pity. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something—but no words came. Something unseen held him back.
From the high gallery, where the academy's most powerful sat in judgment, a piercing gaze cut through the air, falling squarely on the two Dravens. Valen stiffened. His expression twisted, and when he finally spoke, the words were not his own.
"Kael, oh Kael… why are you even here? If you'd just stayed in bed drinking your milk, you wouldn't have to embarrass yourself. You know today will only shame you. Better leave while you can."
The crowd chuckled cruelly, but Kael did not flinch. He didn't cut, didn't break, didn't even let the words sting. He had long grown immune to such arrows. Looking at Valen, he could see past the mockery to the struggle behind it. And instead of anger, Kael simply smiled—quiet, steady, and strangely disarming.
The air grew still as a heavy presence swept over the courtyard. Students who had been laughing and whispering only moments ago froze in place. From the grand steps of the academy, a tall, broad-shouldered man emerged, his silver hair catching the sunlight like steel. His long black cloak swayed with each step, and the aura he carried seemed to silence the world itself.
Grandmaster Garrick Veylor.
His mere presence was enough to make even the boldest students straighten their backs. This was not just a man—it was the living legend who had stood at the frontlines against countless monsters, a hero whose name shook nations.
When he spoke, his voice was deep and cold, yet it carried with it a weight that demanded respect.
"Today," he began, his gaze sweeping over the rows of students, "marks the first step of your true journey. The world beyond these walls is not kind. Beyond the cities lie endless shadows—beasts that hunger, monsters that claw at humanity's survival. They will not care for your dreams, your fears, or your weakness."
A hush fell deeper. Some students swallowed nervously, others clenched their fists with determination.
"But," Garrick's tone sharpened, "within each of you lies the potential to rise. The test today is not merely to measure your strength. It is to awaken the fire that will define you. Some of you will stumble. Some will shine. And a rare few will carry the burden of legends."
He paused, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as they passed over Kael, then Valen. For a fleeting moment, something unreadable flickered in his gaze—quickly hidden behind the usual cold mask.
"Remember this," Garrick continued, voice firm as iron. "Power alone will not save you. Discipline. Resolve. The will to stand even when the world seeks to break you—that is what will carve your name into history."
The courtyard almost trembled with his final words:
"Step forward without fear. Today, the path of hunters begins."
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the pounding hearts of the young students, each dreaming of glory—or dreading their own weakness.
As Grandmaster Garrick Veylor stepped back, his words still echoing in the courtyard, another figure rose from the line of seats above.
It was Lady Selene Arclight, the "Silver Fang," draped in white armor that gleamed even under the muted sky. Her sharp eyes swept across the students, and a hush followed in their wake.
"She once slew a hydra by herself…" a boy whispered, awestruck.
"No, no—she led the raid that saved the Eastern Capital!" another argued.
The students buzzed with idolizing chatter, their fear momentarily replaced with admiration.
Next stood Dorian Flint, known as the "Iron Wall." His massive frame cast a shadow even from the gallery. He raised a single hand in acknowledgment, and cheers erupted.
"Look at his arms! He's like a mountain!"
"They say no blade has ever pierced him…"
One by one, heroes rose: masters of fire, lightning, wind, steel—each carrying the weight of legends. Each name sparked a new wave of admiration, gossip, or envy among the crowd.
Kael, however, watched in silence. The students around him nearly trembled with excitement, shouting the names of their idols, but his dark eyes only followed the figures briefly before turning back down. He seemed neither impressed nor shaken—only distant.
Valen stood straight at his side, his fists clenched as he whispered to himself, "One day, I'll stand with them. I'll prove I belong."
Unseen among the cheering students, Grandmaster Garrick's sharp gaze lingered on Kael, a flicker of thought crossing his cold expression before it vanished.