The morning sunlight spilled through the towering windows of the training hall, glinting off the polished stone floor and the faintly glowing crystal pedestals that lined the walls. The hall itself was enormous, its vaulted ceilings stretching so high that the enchanted chandeliers seemed to float in midair. A faint thrum of mana filled the room, vibrating against the stone like the heartbeat of the academy itself.
Class A, the top beginner group of first-years, gathered quickly, taking their assigned spots. The students' uniforms were pristine, black trimmed with silver, each crest over the heart representing their House. I slid into the line at the far side, careful to stay unnoticed. Observation first. Adaptation second.
From the balcony above, Damien stood silently, arms crossed. He wasn't a teacher, nor was he part of our class. Damien Valenheart was a senior prodigy, the most skilled student of the academy, already recognized by instructors and even the headmaster. His presence commanded attention without effort. The air seemed to shift around him, heavier, colder, as if the hall itself acknowledged his power. His steel-gray eyes scanned each first-year student like a hawk, noting posture, aura, and subtle control over mana.
A ripple of whispering passed through the students, a mixture of curiosity and nervousness. Some glanced at each other, muttering in low voices; others straightened, trying to appear confident. I recognized a few faces immediately.
A tall boy with silver hair and sharp, clever eyes stood near the center of the line. Eryndor Vale… the hero of the story, I thought, my pulse quickening. In the novel, he had been the one to challenge Damien, the one destined to oppose the darkness. Now, here he was, unaware of the future I knew.
Nearby, a cheerful girl with golden braids adjusted her uniform. Selene Brightwind… always at his side, I reminded myself. She had been Eryndor's closest ally in the story, strong yet kind, capable in ways many overlooked. I made a mental note to observe her carefully; she could be an asset or a challenge.
A timid boy with dark hair and wary eyes, glancing nervously between classmates, caught my attention next. Kael Draven… minor role for now, but later he becomes significant. I needed to keep an eye on him.
And then there were others, less familiar but clearly notable.
A half-elf girl with sharp amber eyes and slightly pointed ears sat quietly near the back, her posture perfect, hands folded. Elara Veyne… she has an unusual presence. Mana control must be impressive.
A human noble girl with chestnut hair and a composed expression adjusted her gloves, glancing briefly at the crystal board. Seris Dawnveil… confident, precise, probably skilled in both magic and strategy.
The instructor entered then — a tall woman with fiery red hair and eyes sharp as tempered steel. She walked along the front of the room, hands clasped behind her back, voice firm but resonant. "Welcome, Class A," she began. "I am Instructor Valeria Dorne, and I will guide you through your first lessons in mana control, combat, and theory. Today is your first chance to demonstrate your potential. Take it seriously."
Her gaze swept the class. "You will begin with basic mana exercises. Focus on control, stability, and precision. Your performance today will contribute to the initial rankings of this class. Pay attention."
We moved to the practice circles, where the stone floor hummed faintly as if aware of our presence. Each student focused, hands twitching as the subtle flow of mana flickered along their fingertips. I took a deep breath and flexed mine slowly, the faint pulse responding almost instinctively. A thin thread of glowing mana shimmered along my arm. Eryndor Vale raised an eyebrow, clearly noticing my control.
Interesting, I thought. Observation first. Assessment second. Control third.
The exercises lasted for hours, rotating through a series of tests: channeling mana, controlling floating orbs, basic sparring drills, and maintaining a steady flow while performing simple maneuvers. Mistakes and successes were noted by Instructor Dorne, who moved among us, her eyes catching even the smallest flicker of mana. Each action subtly adjusted the ranking chart, a large crystal display suspended at the front of the hall. Names glowed softly, shifting up or down depending on performance.
By mid-morning, the initial rankings began to take shape. I found myself roughly in the middle — steady, cautious, yet not outstanding. Selene Brightwind already dominated the upper tier, her control precise and unshakable. Eryndor Vale hovered near the top, natural talent evident in every movement. Kael Draven lingered at the lower tier, struggling to stabilize his mana flow. Elara Veyne and Seris Dawnveil also appeared among the higher ranks, their skill evident even in these first tests. Every student's performance was visible in the shifting lights of the crystal board.
After the exercises, we were led to a secondary hall for formal introductions. Students sat at long rows of polished desks, quills and notebooks ready. Instructors introduced themselves individually, describing their areas of expertise, rules of conduct, and expectations. Instructor Dorne emphasized the importance of rankings again.
"Rankings are not permanent," she said. "They reflect potential, performance, and effort. Each session, each exercise, each observation contributes to your position. Those who are diligent may rise; those who are careless may fall."
I listened carefully, taking in names, faces, and tiny details — the subtle tension of one student, the confident posture of another, the faint pulse of mana around certain hands. These will be important later.
By late afternoon, first lessons officially ended, but the day was far from over. Class A had exclusive access to the academy's personal training grounds — an enclosed courtyard lined with floating crystal orbs, practice weapons, and dummies for combat drills. The space was designed for independent practice beyond formal lessons.
I stepped forward, allowing my mana to flow freely. Sparks danced along my fingers and arms, responding more fluidly here than in the hall. I experimented with channeling energy through my legs, enhancing movement, feeling the faint residue of yesterday's resonance pulse linger in my veins.
From the upper balcony, Damien's silhouette remained, unmoving. He didn't intervene or comment. His role wasn't to teach — it was to observe, silently evaluating potential allies and threats, including me. The weight of his gaze pressed down, making even the faint shimmer of my mana feel exposed.
Other students arrived for personal practice, some exchanging brief nods, others too focused to acknowledge anyone. I noticed Eryndor practicing at another corner, executing moves with uncanny precision. Selene was already engaged with sparring dummies, her every motion deliberate and exact. Kael Draven faltered slightly, earning a faint glare from Instructor Dorne, who walked silently nearby to oversee progress. Elara and Seris quietly focused on their exercises, demonstrating precision and control without drawing unnecessary attention.
By evening, the sun dipped behind the towers, casting long shadows across the courtyard. Exhausted but not satisfied, I returned to my dorm room. Passing the reflective surface of the window, I flexed my fingers, watching the faint shimmer of mana. Dark gray hair, steel-gray eyes — my appearance now, yet so different from the person I had been before.
I sank onto my bed, mind racing. Tomorrow, I would need to continue my personal training, study the classmates I recognized, and navigate the complex hierarchy that the academy subtly enforced. The shadow is not passive, I thought. I must be strategic, careful, and patient.
And somewhere above me, Damien's presence lingered like a weight in the air, silently watching, always measuring.
Tomorrow begins another day. I rise in the rankings. I observe. I prepare. And I survive in his shadow.