"Go for it, Pres Shawn! Kill it!"
The cheers from the bleachers were deafening. Shawn—known to the student body as "Pres Yeppi"—stood at the penalty line, his expression calm despite the sweat matting his hair. As the Student Council President and captain of the soccer team, he was the golden boy of BND Academy.
BND wasn't just any elite school. To the outside world, it was an invite-only sanctuary for the brilliant and the wealthy. But behind its iron gates lay a secret shared only with the highest levels of government.
A thousand years ago, those born with mana—the elementalists—had ruled the world. But as the ages passed, the gift faded. Those who remained were hunted, feared as "monsters," or used as living weapons in forgotten wars. Eventually, magic retreated into the pages of fairy tales. BND Academy was the sanctuary built to change that—a place where those with mana could live in the shadows, protected by a pact to use their powers only for the nation's hidden defense.
Shawn took a breath, blocked out the noise, and kicked.
The ball soared, hitting the back of the net with a satisfying thud. The crowd erupted. Shawn flashed a handsome, practiced smile and waved to the fans. But as the camera flashes strobed around him, his gaze caught on a figure in the back of the stands.
A man in a black hoodie and a mask.
Even through the dense crowd, Shawn could see it: a soft, golden radiance shimmering around the stranger's silhouette. It was a light he hadn't seen in thirteen years, but one he could never forget. As the man turned to leave, Shawn bolted, pushing past his teammates and out of the stadium.
By the time he reached the street, the man was gone.
The encounter pulled Shawn back to a memory he usually kept locked away.
He had grown up in a secluded village where his birth was celebrated as a miracle. On the day he was born, the trees had surged with growth and flowers bloomed out of season. His mother, the village priestess, knew he had inherited her Earth mana, only much stronger.
When he was five, he had been playing in the fields during the harvest when he spotted a man in a black cloak watching him. Unlike the villagers, this man glowed with a strange, golden warmth
.
"Hey! Who are you?" five-year-old Shawn had asked, tilting his head.
The man knelt so they were eye-to-eye and pulled back his hood, revealing a faint, sad smile. "You really don't remember me?"
Shawn blinked, confused. "Hmm?"
"It's okay," the man whispered, reaching out to pat Shawn's head. "There is a right time for everything. I've waited hundreds of years; a few more is nothing. Here... you can have this."
He pressed a small, green candy into Shawn's palm.
"Wah! Melon candy! How did you know I love these?"
The man's smile widened, though his eyes remained distant. "I have to go now. See you again, bro—"
Before the word was finished, the man dissolved into a shower of golden sparks, leaving only the scent of rain and the candy in Shawn's hand.
The peace of the village hadn't lasted. When Shawn was seven, curiosity drove him toward the city lights he could see from the mountain. He hadn't gone far down the main road when three men intercepted him.
"Hey kid," one sneered, grabbing his shoulder. "You have some weird-looking eyes."
Fear spiked in Shawn's chest. For mana users, emotions were the trigger. His eyes bled from brown into a vibrant, mossy green.
"Whoa... a monster kid," the man laughed, his grip tightening. "We got lucky! We can sell a Mana-user for a fortune on the black market."
"No! Get away!" Shawn screamed.
He didn't know how to fight, but the earth responded to his terror. A jagged mound of dirt buckled under the man's feet, tripping him. But the men were larger and angrier now. As they lunged, a shadow fell over Shawn.
The man in the black cloak was there again, standing like a wall between Shawn and the world.
"Who the hell are you?" the men stammered, frozen by the suffocating pressure of the stranger's aura.
The man didn't move. He simply stared at them with eyes of solid gold. "Go away."
The three men immediately went slack-jawed. With blank, glassy eyes, they turned and walked away into the darkness.
The stranger turned to Shawn. "Are you okay?"
"It's you... Mr. Melon Candy," Shawn whispered.
"Yeah," the man said softly, taking Shawn's small hand in his. "I'll take you home."
That feeling of safety was the last time he'd seen the man. The next morning, black cars from BND Academy had arrived at the village. His father, a BND alumnus, knew they couldn't hide him forever. Shawn was taken away to be trained, leaving his village and the golden man behind.
Back in the present, Shawn sat in the Student Council office, staring at a stack of paperwork but seeing only that golden light. Why show up now, after thirteen years?
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. The Principal's secretary stood there. "The Principal wants to see you. Immediately."
In the Principal's office, the air felt charged. A figure stood by the window, silhouetted by the bright afternoon sun. He was touching the leaves of the office plants with a strange, reverent focus.
"Greet him," the Principal whispered, looking uncharacteristically nervous. "He is the Head of the Academy."
"Good day, sir," Shawn said, bowing. The man at the window didn't turn.
"Shawn," the Principal continued, "I know you have the Deity Mark."
Shawn stiffened. He had a birthmark on his right waist—an intricate earth symbol that had only appeared once his mana matured. He'd never told anyone. "How did you—"
"Starting today, you will live here," the Principal said, sliding a map across the desk. It pointed to the North Sector—an area of the campus that had been abandoned for decades. "There are six people with the Deity Mark. Your mission is to find the others and bring them to the Academy."
"My mission? Sir, I don't understand."
"You will," the Principal said, his eyes darting toward the silent man at the window. "Once you gather them all, the truth will be revealed. You are dismissed."
Confused and overwhelmed, Shawn spent the evening packing. He followed the map to the North Sector until he reached a sprawling, ancient mansion. The iron gates creaked as he pushed them open.
He knocked on the heavy oak door. No answer. But as he turned to leave, the door swung inward on its own.
Stepping inside, a wave of vertigo hit him. The layout, the scent of the wood, the way the light fell across the foyer—it was all hauntingly familiar. Suddenly, the mark on his waist flared with heat.
His vision blurred. Images flashed through his mind like a film strip set on fire: six boys running through these halls, the sound of shared laughter, a heavy sense of brotherhood. The headache was so sharp he had to lean against the wall.
When he finally recovered, he looked up at the grand staircase. There were six doors lining the upper hall.
He climbed the stairs and walked into the first room, collapsing onto the bed. His mind was a whirlwind. Mr. Melon Candy. The Principal. The Mark. Those memories. As his eyes drifted shut, he couldn't shake the feeling that he hadn't just moved into a new dorm—he had finally come home.