Chapter 2 – Arrival at the Academy
The gates of the Demon Legacy Academy loomed above him, massive stone pillars carved with runes that pulsed faintly with ancient magic. Students bustled through the courtyard, clad in robes of their family colors, laughing, arguing, and showing off small bursts of power to one another. For them, the academy was a proving ground, a place to claim prestige, power, and pride.
For Arkanis, it was a stage and a place to observe his descendants.
He walked through the gates, each step measured, his presence bending reality in subtle ways. Flowers bloomed unnaturally bright as he passed. Shadows shifted and twined around his legs like obedient serpents. Birds fell silent in the trees, and even the wind seemed to pause, as if sensing that a king had returned.
A group of students near the fountain stopped mid-argument. One of them, a tall boy with sharp eyes and a proud aura, stepped forward. His hair glimmered silver in the morning light.
"You there," he said, voice carrying the arrogance of a noble bloodline, "you're new. State your name and lineage."
Arkanis regarded him calmly, and the air around him seemed to tighten. "Arkanis Voidborn," he said, his tone neutral, almost bored. "No lineage is needed. I am… simply me."
The boy's eyes narrowed. "Voidborn…? That's an old name… forgotten, perhaps. You claim it, but I doubt it carries meaning here."
Arkanis smiled faintly, the kind of smile that made people uneasy, though it was not unkind. "History has a way of remembering those who deserve it."
The boy stiffened. "I am Khalen Ironfist, descendant of the hero who struck down the old Demon King." His voice rose, almost as if saying the words aloud would shield him from the unease gnawing at his chest. "If you claim the title, you'll have to prove it."
Arkanis tilted his head, regarding Khalen with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. "Of course. Though I warn you… some truths are painful."
Before Khalen could respond, a soft voice interjected. A girl with flowing dark hair and amber eyes stepped between them. "Khalen, calm yourself. We don't even know him." She regarded Arkanis cautiously. "I'm Lyra Voidborn… perhaps you're… related?" Her words were tentative, as if she sensed a faint echo of recognition in his aura.
Arkanis' eyes flickered for a fraction of a second, a glimmer of acknowledgment. "You could say we share a connection… but it is not one that binds us in loyalty or blood yet."
The bell rang, resonating through the courtyard. Classes were beginning. Arkanis followed the stream of students, moving with effortless grace. Everywhere he went, whispers followed. "That's him… the one they say is from the old era…"
His first class was Advanced Magical Combat, taught by the formidable Professor Zephyros, though none yet knew he was Arkanis' secret mentor. Today's lesson involved dueling constructs designed to push students to their limits.
When the constructs appeared, the room erupted in sparks and fire. Other students struggled, sweat on their brows, barely keeping their forms intact.
Arkanis blinked once. A single flick of his hand sent a wave of energy sweeping through the arena. The constructs shattered like glass. Students recoiled, fear and awe mingling in their expressions.
Professor Zephyros, watching from the sidelines, allowed himself a small smile. "Yes… just as I remembered. Still the same, yet reborn. The world is not ready for you, Arkanis."
Khalen's face twisted in anger and disbelief. "Impossible… how can one student do this?"
Arkanis knelt slightly, examining Khalen's stance as if reading a book. "You fight well for someone carrying the weight of your ancestor. But if you truly wish to challenge the Demon King… you must surpass your pride and accept the truth of history."
The other students looked on, whispers spreading like wildfire. The legend the Demon King was here. Not as a ghost or a story, but as a living, breathing force, walking among them.
And in that moment, Khalen realized something chilling: he was not merely facing a new student. He was facing history itself.