The headmaster's office carried an ancient weight. Every piece of furniture gleamed with centuries of use, polished until the grain of wood itself seemed alive. Even the chair into which Connor McCloud was guided looked priceless, and he sat as carefully as though it might break beneath him—or worse, demand coin for daring to touch it.
Across from him rested the painted figure of Parcaso Andalusia, the legendary hero who had once saved humanity. The canvas shimmered faintly with enchantment, the figure within moving with grace, stroking his white beard and smiling as if he were flesh and blood.
The conversation began with courtesy, but soon cut to the heart. The Freshman Friendly Match, a tradition Connor had never heard of, was explained. It was no simple spar. Instead, it was a tournament held each year to test new arrivals, allowing them to demonstrate their strength without restriction. Students would fight one another before the eyes of peers and professors, their performance deciding the groups they would belong to for the next three years.
In short—it was trial by combat, dressed in the robes of education.
Connor's stomach turned. He had imagined his first days at the academy would be quiet, perhaps even dull. Instead, he had been summoned directly by the headmaster, placed under a spotlight before both nobles and commoners. Already, rumors would spread. Already, the Gift on his forehead prickled.
Parcaso urged him to speak his mind, his tone patient, almost kind. But his words cut deep, peeling at old wounds. He spoke of the Highlander's tragedy, the day Connor awakened his Gift amidst the corpses of every comrade he had ever fought beside. The headmaster's painted eyes burned through him, demanding honesty. Connor admitted, quietly, that though he was skilled in battle, he despised it. Skill and desire were not the same.
But mercy was not in fate's design. Merog, the great stone golem that served the headmaster, laid three documents before him. Each was an application signed and sealed by one of the academy's most prestigious freshmen—the chosen representatives of their nations.
Prince Bergt Platinum of the Kingdom.
Zephyros Astram of the Alima Union.
Maiael Astarod, daughter of the Hercule Empire's duke.
Each had requested Connor McCloud as their first opponent.
Not one. Not two. All three.
It was a first in the academy's four centuries of history.
The rules allowed no refusal. He had until sundown to choose.
Connor's hands trembled as he sorted through the parchments. His Gift burned the moment he touched Maiael's request, warning him with sharp pain. Rationality whispered that he should avoid her. Choose Bergt. Choose Zephyros. Escape danger while he still could.
But he could not run. He had run from nothing before, and he would not begin now.
With a sharp motion, Connor pressed Maiael's parchment flat against the table. His choice was made.
The headmaster chuckled softly, but then revealed what few in the world understood: Maiael Astarod bore an Innate Gift. Unlike most, which awakened in moments of crisis, hers had been present since birth. Its nature was brutally simple—she learns faster than anyone else alive.
Swordsmanship, magic, martial forms—after three exchanges, she could copy them perfectly. After six, she could understand their essence. After ten, she could refine them into a form superior to their original.
Against such talent, skill meant little. Even a mercenary with years of survival carved into his blade could be unraveled in moments.
Connor returned to his dorm, his decision weighing heavier with every step. White Pearl, the commoner's lodging, was modest compared to the lavish mansions reserved for nobles: Red Crown, Blue Ocean, and Black Scale. His assigned room was plain, barely furnished, but it held a bed sturdy enough to collapse onto.
Exhaustion dragged him under, though his thoughts circled endlessly. He regretted his choice. He questioned it. Yet deep down, he knew there was no path but forward. His Gift had warned him, and he had chosen to step into the storm regardless.
That night, dreams clawed at him. A monster with a mask—his own future, twisted—loomed above him, jaws wide to consume him whole.
And when he woke, only one truth remained. Tomorrow, he would face Maiael Astarod, the girl who smiled like light and threatened his existence like death itself.