The bell rings.
Sharp. Metallic. Far too loud for something meant to wake us up.
Nine in the morning.
I open my eyes with that familiar, unpleasant feeling — not enough sleep, not deep enough. The ceiling above me is still painfully white. Too clean. Almost aggressive. For a few seconds, I remain still, listening as the dormitory slowly comes back to life around me: hurried footsteps in the corridor, half-awake voices, doors slamming shut.
I get up.
I dress without thinking. The uniform. Always the same. I run a hand through my hair, trying — without much success — to tame it. I eat… or rather, I swallow something. I couldn't even tell you what it was. My mind is already elsewhere.
The meeting is at 9:30.
Main hall.
Today, they assign us to our classes.
When I arrive, the hall is already packed.
Too many people. Dozens of students. Some laughing in groups. Others staring each other down like dogs ready to fight. The air is thick with excitement… and something uglier.
Comparison.
Judgment.
At the front, six adults stand in a line.
One of them steps forward.
"Good morning, dear students."
Her voice is steady. Calm. Authoritative without needing to raise itself.
"My name is Liora de Valbraise, Deputy Headmistress of the Academy. Today, we will assign you to your respective classes."
She pauses before continuing.
"Let us begin with the introduction of your main instructors."
A man steps forward.
"Anel Torval. Homeroom teacher of Class 1A."
Nothing more. His gaze sweeps across the crowd like a blade. Cold. Calculating.
Another man steps up, a crooked smile on his face.
"Hey! I'm Bran Solfer, homeroom teacher of 1B."
He seems… different. More relaxed. Maybe too relaxed for a place like this.
"Hello, everyone! I am the famous Ivar Verdan! Homeroom teacher of 1C! Delighted to meet you!"
Far too much energy. Almost exhausting just listening to him.
"Daren Brenn. Class 1D."
Old. Gravelly voice. Tired eyes.
"Hi, hi! Kaela Rask, homeroom teacher of 1E!"
She smiles warmly. Almost reassuring.
"Good. Thank you," the Deputy Headmistress says. "Now I will call your names and your assigned classes. Please join your instructors afterward."
The roll call begins.
Names flow one after another. Some louder than others. Noble families. Famous bloodlines. Every important surname triggers whispers.
When my name is called, I'm assigned to 1B.
Twenty-four students.
Afterward, we follow our teacher to our classroom. My throat tightens slightly, but it's manageable.
I enter the room.
By instinct, I head for the back. Right side. Near the window. I like being able to see outside. It gives the illusion of an escape.
"Welcome again!" Bran says, clapping his hands together. "Let me introduce myself properly. Bran Solfer. For this year — and the next two — I'll be your homeroom teacher. I hope we'll get along."
He smiles.
"There are twenty-four of you. Let's start with introductions. First row on the left… and we'll end with you."
He points at me.
I don't react.
The first student stands.
"Tharys de Pyroval."
Then it continues.
"Calen d'Ambrecrête.""Iska de Rougelys.""Serah de Vireflam.""Oryn de Braiselune.""Maelis de Rougelys.""Rhaen de Solfyr.""Brask Helor.""Celya Norv.""Kaïros de Solbrûle.""Vaelis d'Ignemont.""Selene de Braisecœur."
When Brask and Celya introduce themselves, laughter erupts.
"Hah!"
Oryn speaks up.
"Seriously? Commoners here? How much did you steal to get in?"
A few snickers follow. Not everyone laughs. But enough for it to sting.
Bran sighs.
"Calm down. Continue."
The introductions resume, but I'm not really listening anymore.
Then it's my turn.
I stand slowly.
"Aydan Arin."
Silence.
Real silence.
I feel the stares. Some shocked. Others amused. A few nobles openly laughing.
"Oh… interesting," someone murmurs.
Bran blinks, surprised.
"Well… that's unexpected. An Arin among us. Our future valiant Warrior, perhaps?"
I sit back down without answering.
The whispers don't stop.
Arin… The blood of warriors… What's so special about him?
I briefly rub a hand over my face.
This is awkward.
I don't understand.
Why does this name cause such a reaction?
The class ends quickly. Schedules are handed out.
Theory in the morning. Practice in the afternoon. Curfew at midnight.
Noon.
The bell rings.
Cafeteria.
It's enormous. Overflowing with students. Thankfully, signs keep you from getting lost. After a few minutes, I grab a tray. The food is free. At least there's that.
I sit alone.
I eat quietly.
A shadow stops in front of me.
"Hey, fake noble."
Oryn.
I keep eating.
"He's talking to you, idiot," Rhaen adds.
I don't react.
Oryn slams his hand on the table.
The sound echoes.
The entire cafeteria goes silent.
"When I call you, you answer."
I stand slowly. Calmly.
"What do you want?"
He laughs.
"Look at him. Acting tough because mister is a 'future valiant warrior.'"
I stare at him.
"You talk a lot."
His smile disappears.
"Shut your mouth, you little piece of shit. You're nothing but a fake noble. You don't deserve to be here."
I tilt my head slightly.
"At least I wasn't rejected by my own."
His hand ignites.
Flames crackle around his fingers.
"I still have a family alive. Unlike you."
Total silence.
Something shifts inside me.
Pressure.
Heat.
Images.
Voices.
I look at him.
He steps back.
Almost stumbles.
For a second, the air feels heavy. Suffocating.
Then I let it go.
"Leave me alone."
He straightens, pale.
"I'll remember this, Arin. Watch yourself."
They walk away.
I sit back down.
I finish my meal as if nothing happened.
Later, outside on campus, someone approaches.
"Hey! Nice to meet you."
He extends a hand.
"Brask Helor."
I shake it.
"Nice to meet you too."
He smiles — almost too enthusiastically.
"What you did to Oryn… that was incredible."
"I didn't do anything."
"Exactly. That's what makes it crazy."
He hesitates.
"Do you really come from a warrior bloodline?"
"Maybe."
He looks at me with something close to admiration.
"Want to train with me?"
I smirk slightly.
"Are you challenging me?"
"You could say that."
We walk toward the training building together. We talk. A lot. The connection is strange… but simple.
"Why do they make fun of you?" I ask.
"Commoner. That's all."
He pauses.
"My parents sacrificed everything so I could be here."
"Your dream?"
"To become a respected warrior."
He looks at me.
"And you? What's your dream?"
I stop walking.
"Survive… then we'll see."
"…Oh."
He doesn't smile for a moment.
"But I'm glad I met you."
He smiles again.
The training hall rises before us.
My heart beats faster.
This was only the beginning.
And I had no intention of backing down.