I woke up around four in the morning out of habit.
The strange part wasn't that I was awake—it was the noise.
Movement echoed through the guild halls: footsteps, muffled voices, doors opening and closing, the shuffle of luggage being dragged across stone floors. Classes weren't supposed to start until eleven today to give students time to move into the dormitories. Normally, mornings like this were silent. Peaceful.
This was… irritating.
With a quiet sigh, I cracked my window open and sat on the edge of my bed, letting the cool air brush against my face as I began my meditation. I was already moved in, so I stuck to my usual routine—training first, then a bath, breakfast, and class. Simple. Structured. Familiar.
By five, I slipped out unseen toward the training grounds.
Thank goodness Nyx had drilled stealth into me. If anyone noticed I'd already been here for weeks, I might've short-circuited on the spot. The training grounds were empty, just the way I liked them. My routine was the same as always—only the repetitions had increased. I finished with a thousand swings of my training sword.
The sword was wooden, enchanted to grow heavier once it was swung with ease. The blacksmith said the charm was tuned specifically to my body—it wouldn't reset no matter who else picked it up. Nyx had insisted on that detail.
By the time eight rolled around, I was freshly bathed and dressed in my academy uniform. Red blazer, black button-up, orange tie, white skirt, and—per academy policy—the brown leather loafer-style shoes required for all indoor classes. Everyone had to switch into them upon entering the academy building. Outdoor training allowed personal footwear, and gym classes had their own issued shoes.
Practical. Organized. Very Varien-coded.
My new leather backpack sat comfortably against my shoulders, stocked with books, notebooks, and pens. My brooch was pinned neatly against my black shirt—though I still hadn't quite figured out how to style it properly.
My blonde hair was pulled into twin messy-but-cute buns, black tips clearly visible. By messy, I meant the buns only—Cherry and Lucy had very firmly taught me how to slick my ponytails "to the gods," as they put it. Cherry had even gifted me hair tools: a brush, a comb, ties, and hair gel. She warned me about using too much gel unless I wanted my hair to crunch.
I appreciated the warning.
A few staff members I recognized gave me thumbs-ups as I passed, which reassured me that I looked decent and wasn't just delusional.
I had just sat down in the dining hall when Cherry plopped into the seat across from me, already armed with a short stack of blueberry pancakes, two sunny-side-up eggs, hash browns, and apple juice. I had steak with fried eggs, hash browns, fruit on the side, and orange juice.
"Morning, Syl!" Cherry chirped. "Excited for your first day—or nervous?"
She wore the red cardigan over her black button-up instead of the blazer. Honestly? A better choice.
"Morning, Cher. Are vampires normally morning people?" I asked, glancing around at the still-busy hall. "Because I am overwhelmed by the noise."
She burst out laughing, which I took as a non-answer.
We talked as we ate, thanking the chef of the day—a male elf named Sox—before heading out. Cherry walked me to the gym for first-year orientation before peeling off toward her own homeroom.
"Let's meet up after school, okay?" she said, waving as she left.
I smiled despite myself.
Taking a steady breath, I entered the gymnasium. Orientation was held here before we were assigned to homerooms. I wasn't sure how students were ranked—if they were at all—but it was immediately obvious that most people grouped themselves by race. Mixed groups were rare unless they already knew each other.
I gravitated toward the wall.
After some time, Guild Master Varien Thalric stepped onto the stage.
"Welcome, new students, to the Meridian Guild Academy," he said, voice carrying easily across the space. "I won't bore you with long speeches. Do well—not just in physical and magic courses, but all of them. Strength means nothing if you can't think. Social status doesn't matter here. We come from different kingdoms, different backgrounds. What matters is what you do with what you're given."
A holographic projection shimmered above us, displaying Class 1-A through 1-D, names listed beneath each.
I found mine.
Class 1-A. Twenty-seven students.
This was going to be a long year.
Our homeroom teacher introduced herself shortly after—a composed woman named Victoria, sharp-eyed but calm in a way that made it clear she had Seen Things. As we filed out toward our classrooms, I adjusted my bag on my shoulders.
This was it.
The first real step forward.
I chose a seat near the window—not quite the back, but far enough that I could observe without being observed too closely. A few students glanced at me, then looked away.
No staring.No whispering.
Good.
As more students filtered in, I listened.
They talked about families who had escorted them, minor dorm disputes, which instructors they hoped to get, and which kingdoms supposedly had the best food. Normal things. Things people simply knew how to talk about.
I stored the information away like I always did, cataloging tone and timing more than the words themselves.
A bell rang—sharp and resonant—and the room quieted almost immediately.
Our homeroom instructor entered with calm authority. A human woman with silver hair pulled into a neat braid, a ledger tucked under one arm.
"Good morning, Class 1-A," she said. "I am Instructor Victoria. Before anything else, let me be clear—this academy exists to teach, not to judge. No one here is expected to arrive knowing everything."
Her gaze swept the room, lingering briefly—not unkindly—on those who sat a little too straight. A little too alert.
"You will all learn at different speeds," she continued. "Some of you will need refinement. Others will need exposure. That is normal."
I felt my shoulders loosen by a fraction.
"Your backgrounds are your own," Victoria added. "Staff do not discuss student origins, and neither should you—unless you choose to. What matters here is who you are becoming."
That… was reassuring.More than I expected.
She began distributing schedules, explaining the structure of the first year—core academics in the morning, practical training in the afternoon, and optional low-rank guild tasks available on designated days. Tasks designed, she emphasized, to support our learning, not replace it.
When my schedule landed on my desk, I studied it carefully.
Reading.Arithmetic.Monster ecology.Mana theory.Combat fundamentals.Social conduct.
I stared at that one a moment longer than the others.
"This class," Instructor Victoria added, as if anticipating hesitation, "exists to ensure no student is left behind due to unfamiliar customs or expectations."
I nodded once, to myself.
I could do this.
This wasn't a dungeon.This wasn't survival.
It was learning—loud, structured, and crowded learning—but learning nonetheless.
And for the first time since stepping into the academy, something close to confidence settled in my chest.