The gates of Ironwill Academy loomed above them, blacksteel chased with silver runes, each curve of script pulsing faintly with protective wards. Beyond lay the sprawling campus: towers of pale stone, courtyards lined with trimmed hedges, the faint hum of mana woven into the air itself.
It looked almost peaceful. Ordinary.
The three of them stood just outside, bags slung over their shoulders, dressed in plain clothes instead of armor or battle-scorched rags. And yet, none of them moved to step inside.
Adrian broke the silence first. He tilted his head back, staring up at the gates with a half-laugh, half-sigh. "Eventful month, huh?"
"That's one way to put it." Lyra's voice was steady, but her golden eyes flickered with unspoken memories — the dungeon walls closing in, the monsters' claws, the blood they had spilled. She exhaled slowly, then let her lips curve just slightly. "The whole world's gone crazy since then. Priests shouting in the streets, nobles fighting to sponsor you, bards inventing songs before the ink's even dry."
Adrian groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Don't even start."
Lyra smirked. "What was it again? Storm's Darling?"
"Son of the Storm," Adrian snapped, ears instantly turning red. "There's a huge difference."
Zane, who had been quiet until now, glanced away from the gates. His eyes softened just faintly, the tension in his jaw loosening. "They also called you Stormbrat. Don't forget that one."
Lyra laughed outright, a clear, ringing sound that turned a few heads of students passing by. "Oh right — and Lightning's Baby Boy."
Adrian's shoulders slumped. "I hate this world. I hate both of you."
"You love us," Lyra replied smoothly, tossing her hair back like it was fact carved in stone.
Adrian peeked through his fingers, scowling. "Not when you're quoting the cringiest garbage bards whisper about me in taverns."
Zane's lips twitched. Then curved into a small smile. "I heard someone call you The Tempest's Heartthrob."
Adrian made a strangled noise. "I swear, I'll smite you where you stand—"
Zane laughed. A quiet laugh, but real. The sound startled even him. For a moment, the memories pressing at the back of his skull — the mist, the monsters, the half-broken forge in his soul — eased.
Lyra caught it, her golden eyes softening. Adrian noticed too, though he only answered it with a muttered, "Unbelievable," before his own lips twitched in reluctant amusement.
The three of them lingered there longer than they needed to, trading barbs, letting the humor bleed away the silence that had hung between them since they left the dungeon. For the first time in weeks, Zane felt like he wasn't carrying his thoughts alone.
Eventually, Adrian tipped his head toward the gates. "Well. No use stalling. Back to being students, I guess."
The word felt strange on his tongue. Students.
Lyra's smile turned wry. "After fighting nightmares in the mist, classes are going to feel… tame."
"Don't jinx it," Zane murmured, though there was no heat in his voice. His gaze lingered on the runes etched into the iron gates. He felt their hum in his bones — old, steady, familiar. Unlike the chaos they had left behind.
Adrian grinned crookedly. "Tame sounds nice for once."
"Until your fan club of noble girls finds you," Lyra teased.
Adrian groaned again. "You're never letting me live this down, are you?"
"Not in this lifetime," Zane said, surprising himself with how easily the words came.
Together, they stepped through the gates.
The campus opened around them, filled with the noise of other students — laughter, chatter, footsteps on stone. A world that had kept moving while theirs had been torn apart. Zane felt it like a knot in his chest, equal parts relief and ache.
He didn't say it aloud he couldn't but in that moment, walking shoulder to shoulder with Lyra and Adrian, he let himself feel it: gratitude. For their survival. For their bond. For the chance to keep moving forward together.
And together, they walked into Ironwill Academy.
The three of them pushed deeper into the academy grounds, following the flood of students toward the largest structure on campus, the Orientation Hall. It was less a building and more a fortress of polished stone and gleaming glass, its domed roof etched with runes that shimmered faintly with protective wards. The doors stood wide open, spilling noise and light into the courtyard as thousands of students funneled inside.
Zane, Lyra, and Adrian slipped into the current.
Inside, the space was staggering. The hall stretched so wide it could have swallowed a cathedral whole, tiered balconies rising level after level, every seat already packed. Chandeliers of floating crystal bathed the chamber in a cool, steady glow, their light refracting into prismatic patterns that danced across the walls.
The sheer weight of presence pressed down on them. Not just the thousands of new students, but the power they carried. Every step, every movement buzzed faintly with mana. This wasn't a crowd of ordinary youths. These were scions of noble houses, prodigies from distant kingdoms, heirs to legacies steeped in power.
Zane felt it coil in his chest, the reminder of how small he truly was in the grand scale of this world.
Then a hush fell.
At the far end of the hall, the stage lit up. A figure stepped forward.
She looked no older than eighteen or nineteen, yet she carried herself with the calm weight of someone used to command. Long silver hair fell over her shoulders, and the uniform of the academy clung to her frame, a white suit with a dark coat lined with gold trim, the insignia of the Student Council blazing at her chest.
Her eyes swept the crowd like a blade. Steady. Sharp. Unyielding.
When she spoke, her voice carried through the vast chamber without strain.
"Welcome to Ironwill Academy."
The silence deepened.
"I am Elisa Veyra, president of the Student Council, second-year student, and the one tasked with delivering your first reality check."
She let her gaze linger across the crowd.
"You stand here among twenty thousand," Elisa continued, her tone neither cruel nor kind, simply factual, the words striking harder because of it. "Chosen from millions across the empire and beyond. You are the strongest your homes could offer, the brightest, the boldest."
She paused, then her next words cut through the air like thunder.
"But only two thousand of you will remain by the end of this exam."
A ripple of shock swept the hall. Gasps. Whispers. A nervous laugh quickly strangled into silence.
Elisa's expression didn't shift. "That is the truth of Ironwill. You came here seeking power, glory, and a place among the greatest. But the academy does not bend for you. It breaks the unworthy. If you cannot endure this first trial, you will not survive the years to come."
The tension around them tightened. Adrian muttered a low curse under his breath. Lyra's jaw clenched, violet eyes fixed unblinking on the council president. Zane could feel the knot forming in his chest, his hand curling into a fist at his side from pure excitement.
Elisa raised her chin, silver hair catching the light. "In a moment, the vice principal will explain the details of your exam. Remember this: strength alone will not be enough. Resolve will not be enough. Only those who embody both who adapt, endure, and rise will earn their place here."
Her eyes swept the sea of faces one last time, and Zane could have sworn for an instant they lingered on him.
"Steel yourselves," Elisa said. "Your trial begins now."
Then she vanished into thin air.