The sun rose over the kingdom of Helmef, spilling warm light across a land alive with color, life, and magic. Helmef was a country like no other, a melting pot of races, cultures, and abilities. Humans, elves, demons, dwarves, and countless demi-human species lived together in relative peace, their coexistence supported by centuries of treaties, magical contracts, and an unspoken understanding that power was the ultimate equalizer.
Magic in Helmef was as natural as breathing. Children learned levitation spells with their breakfast, merchants animated signs with small enchantments, and familiars of all shapes—cats, hawks, foxes, and even miniature dragons—strolled openly through the streets without fear of reprisal.
From the sky above the capital, one could see floating lanterns drifting lazily over the main square, casting a golden glow on the cobblestone streets. Water fountains shimmered with light spells that danced across their surfaces, and hovering wagons carried goods from one market to another without a single horse in sight.
Liro, sixteen years old, with striking white hair and crimson eyes, walked through the streets with the nonchalance of someone who had seen it all. His long legs carried him swiftly across the cobblestones, and his hands rested lazily in the pockets of his tunic. On his shoulder curled a small dragon, her purple scales glinting in the morning light as she purred softly. Liro smiled faintly at her.
"Good morning, Sofi," he said, his voice calm but teasing. "Try not to crush any noses today. The humans are fragile creatures."
Sofi chirped, her tail flicking with mild amusement, and nuzzled his cheek. She was small for now, no larger than a cat, perfectly comfortable sitting on his shoulder. To anyone else, a dragon might inspire fear or awe, but in Helmef they were rare rather than terrifying. Only the S-tier dragons, or the legendary SS-tier, demanded true attention. Sofi, though capable, was not one of those. Most citizens barely batted an eye at her, and some children even reached out to stroke her scales as she purred contentedly.
The streets of Helmef thrived with commerce. Magic and wealth flowed freely here, the kingdom's economy fueled by gold, the only currency that truly mattered. Silver was nearly useless, and copper was rare enough to be considered a curiosity. Liro walked past the bustling market stalls, his eyes scanning for anything worthwhile.
A vendor cried out about a new batch of elemental crystals, his voice echoing against the enchanted rooftops. Liro raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Elemental crystals, are they? Worthless if you cannot bend the magic yourself," he muttered to Sofi, who let out a low, amused hum.
He stopped at a stall selling enchanted ropes, each strong enough to hold the weight of a fully grown wyvern. Liro picked one up and twisted it in his hands. "Hah. Overpriced as usual. I could braid something stronger in ten minutes."
The vendor, an older dwarf with a thick beard and sharp eyes, frowned. "Not all of us are born with talent, boy."
Liro smirked and leaned against the stall. "Yes, lucky me. Born strong, intelligent, and ridiculously good-looking. The trifecta. Do not worry about me; worry about the sheep you just insulted."
Sofi hissed softly, clearly entertained by the exchange. The dwarf scowled but said nothing, shaking his head as Liro wandered off.
Helmef itself was magical indeed, yet ordinary citizens did not fear dragons or other magical creatures unless they were large enough to topple buildings. Sofi stretched lazily on his shoulder, her wings tucked neatly. "You know, little one, if you were to change size, the peasants might finally run for their lives. Then again, it is not necessary for a being as cute as you to reveal your true self to such peasants."
The dragon purred at his words. Liro scratched her head, enjoying the softness of her scales. "Relax. You are perfect as you are. No need to impress them, only me. Perhaps me and a few idiots brave enough to cross your path."
After half an hour of strolling, Liro entered a small shop that sold provisions for the academy. Magical potions, herbs, enchanted scrolls, and protective charms lined the shelves. He selected what he needed with casual precision, ignoring the stares of other shoppers.
"Liro, you know," the shopkeeper said cautiously, "most students are not allowed to purchase S-tier mana stabilizers at your age."
Liro grinned, showing a hint of sharp teeth. "Most students are not me either. Lucky for me, you are not one to argue, correct?"
The shopkeeper shook his head and muttered under his breath about how students like Liro always ended up dead first in real combat. Liro shrugged, amused by the warning. Let them talk. They did not matter.
He paid in gold, a thick stack that clinked pleasantly as it changed hands, and left the shop. Sofi curled around his arm, chirping softly as though commenting on their early morning adventure.
By afternoon, Liro returned to the Academy of Arcane Valor, a sprawling fortress of white stone etched with glowing runes. The hallways buzzed with students practicing spells, familiars darting between legs, and teachers issuing strict instructions. Liro did not bother with greetings or polite smiles; he was above such trivialities.
He found a quiet corner in the library, Sofi curling up in his lap as he thumbed through books on spell theory and magical creature habits. Knowledge is power, he thought, his eyes narrowing over the pages. "And apparently, everyone else here is foolish enough to ignore it. Lucky for me, I need no friends to survive. Only Sofi, and perhaps a few dead magical beasts to prove a point."
The day passed slowly, sunlight filtering through enchanted windows. Helmef was a kingdom of magic, but in every corner there was competition, a constant struggle for recognition and survival. Liro thrived on it.
The next morning, the headmaster summoned all students to the grand hall. The news spread quickly—the midterm survival test was about to begin. Panic and excitement rippled among the students.
Liro leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, crimson eyes scanning the room. "Ten days in the Dark Jungle," he muttered. "A crowd of fools believing this will kill them. I wonder how many will scream before noon."
Beside him, Sofi chirped in amusement, shifting slightly. Liro stroked her head absently. "Relax, Sofi. They will be terrified, yes, but nothing we cannot handle. Correct?"
The headmaster's gaze swept the room, sharp as ever. "Students, for this examination, you will be paired with partners. Cooperation is mandatory. No one is permitted to enter alone."
A collective groan rose from the students. Liro smirked. Cooperation, was it? Very well. He did not need anyone. Yet he would play along—briefly.
"Your partner for this midterm is Lyra Seranyth," the headmaster announced.
Lyra. Liro's eyes found her. Elven features, noble bearing, beautiful, popular, and most importantly, entirely unaware of who he truly was. That would be entertaining.
Perfect, he thought, smirking. A perfect country bumpkin to test my patience.
The headmaster continued with his instructions. Students would be teleported, each provided with an alarm button for emergencies, and graded on survival, strategy, and magical proficiency.
A voice muttered from behind him, "He will be dead first. It always happens with people like him."
Liro turned, his crimson eyes glinting, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Excuse me, genius. People like me die first? And you? You are nothing more than background noise."
Sofi purred in agreement, her tail flicking lazily. Liro leaned back, already anticipating the chaos to come. "Ten days, little Sofi. Let us see who screams first, shall we?"
The hall buzzed with whispers. Everyone knew of Liro—whether feared, admired, or despised—but no one truly understood him. And that suited him perfectly.
The midterm was set. The Dark Jungle awaited. And Liro, with Sofi on his shoulder and a smirk on his face, was ready to show precisely why students like him did not die first. They survived, and they thrived.