The plaza still buzzed with talk well after the last student had deposited their hand on the Exam Crystal.
Most left with bright smiles and high ranks forever inscribed on their records. Others hung about, shame following them like weights.
Lucian, however, walked out through the gates undisturbed, his E-rank result behind him like a pungency.
"E-rank, can you believe it?"
"And he seemed so confident, too."
"Waste of space."
He ignored them all. Their insults were less than the filth at his feet.
He had cared once—every insult, every sneer had stung him. He had wished so hard to prove himself. But now? Their voices were the hum of flies in his ears.
And yet, he watched each face. Each condescending sneer, each disdainful smile. Those same lips would be stilled in time.
The grounds of the academy stretched before him—a city of walls. Spires of marble rose into the air, carved with runes that glowed with a dim light in sunlight. Training areas blanketed rolling greens, dotted with stone dummies beaten flat from spells as numerous as the grass itself. The scent of parchment and mana hung heavy in the air.
It should have been nostalgic. Instead, it was foreign, walking through a canvas of memory.
"Lucian Vale?"
The voice surprised him. Soft and melodic and familiar.
He turned—and stood before her.
Seraphine Lys.
Up close, she was even more beautiful. Light streamed across her burnished locks, and her amber eyes conveyed warmth as well as keen interest. She carried herself like a noblewoman, yet her face belonged to someone too solemn to be described as prideful.
Lucian's chest tightened. Memories flooded back—the way her laughter once carried him through shadows, the way her final breath had broken him.
And now she treated him like strangers.
"You're… Lucian, right? From the southern quarter?"
She addressed him with refined courtesy, wariness.
You remember me?
Lucian's lips curved into the hint of a smile. "I'm surprised you do."
Seraphine tilted her head. "We trained together once, years ago. You were… more boisterous then. Louder than anyone else, and always quarreling with everybody." Her eyes fell upon Jan's face, inquiring.
"Now you seem… remote."
Different. Remote.
He found himself laughing at the irony.
"People change," Lucian stated in a factual tone.
Her gaze softened, but her brows furrowed. "E-rank… is that true?"
The crowd around them had thinned, but whispers still hung in the air. Seraphine ignored them, her focus entirely on him.
Lucian shrugged. "The crystal doesn't decide my worth."
Seraphine blinked, surprised at his calmness. Then she smiled, small and genuine. "I suppose you're right."
For a moment, the world receded—the hullabaloo, the stares, the pennants flying overhead. There was only she, living and smiling.
But Lucian had sense enough not to linger.
"Take care of yourself, Lady Lys," he stated, stepping away from her.
Her smile faltered. She tracked him back with her gaze, a mask on her face.
The dorms were ranked by position. The eastern towers housed the nobles, whose chambers were luxurious, and the commoners were crowded into tiny rooms near the training fields.
Lucian retrieved his key from the registrar, the woman not even giving him a second glance. "E-rank dormitory. Room 47."
Room 47 was a tiny cell with a solitary bed, a broken desk, and a window that opened onto the rubbish yard. There was dust in the corners, and the mattress sagged.
Lucian sat along the edge of the bed, his palms on his knees. Shadows writhed softly at his feet, curving into the shape of his pouting sulk.
"Pathetic," someone jeered.
Lucian's gaze lifted unwillingly.
Three boys in the doorway, each dressed in a set of more elegant robes than he wore. Their crests gleamed on their chests—small noble houses, the kind which survived by groveling before larger ones.
The leader snarled. "You took our friend's place, Vale. The academy can only accommodate so many and they gave one to. an E-rank nobody."
Lucian's gaze became cold. So it begins.
"Leave," he said in a low tone.
The nobles laughed. "Or what? You'll gawk at us until you faint?"
They stepped inside, one shoving him by the shoulder. "Maybe we should remind you of your place."
The darkness stirred. A thin tendril crept along the floor, unseen in the shadows. Lucian's eyes glowed briefly.
The boy who shoved him emitted a shrill cry, clutching his leg. "Something—something grabbed me!"
His friends shrank in horror. Lucian rose slowly, his unflickering eyes slicing deeper than any blade.
"Go," he repeated.
They did this time.
The door shut behind them, their footsteps receding along the corridor.
Lucian sat again, shadows drawing back. He breathed slowly out. Not yet. Don't waste your energy on dross.
The following morning, first-years were summoned to the Great Hall.
It was a big room, its vaulted ceiling inscribed with runes that glowed like stars. Rows of long tables took up floor space, each assigned by rank. Nobles sat in the area nearest the dais, commoners in the rear.
Lucian sat in the rear. He didn't mind. Space provided perspective.
At the speaker's stand, Headmaster Aldric raised his staff, his voice booming. "Greetings, initiates, to the Royal Arcane Academy! You stand on the threshold of greatness. But let this be known to you—the academy is not a sanctuary. It is a crucible. You will bleed, you will hurt, and only the most resilient of your number will survive."
His words hung heavy over the gathering. Even the nobles moved restlessly.
Aldric's eyes scanned the room, keen as razors. "Your first trial begins tomorrow. Dungeon excursion. Cooperation, courage, and skill will be evaluated. Fail, and you'll no longer exist."
Gasps echoed through the hall. The less able students paled.
Lucian's mouth twisted into a smile. So it begins.
He remembered this dungeon all too well. The trial that had forged friendships, rivalries, and the early cracks of treachery. And yet he would not stumble blindly now.
His gaze snapped towards the noble tables. Magnus Crowe and Selene Frost would not appear until later years, but already their shadows could be discerned forming— ambitious heirs seeking power, ambitious children of great houses.
And his eyes finally alighted once again on Seraphine.
She sat amongst the upper echelons, her presence commanding respect from everyone. But her gaze, once, flashed back at him. For an instant.
Lucian averted his eyes.
Tomorrow, the dungeon would be unlocked. Tomorrow, the mask would be created.
And the first step of his second existence would begin in blood.