The massive stone archways of Aurelius Royal Academy cast long shadows across the courtyard as nobles and commoners alike spilled in from lavish carriages, flying mounts, and glowing teleport circles. Today marked the start of a new semester—the day when heirs of powerful bloodlines and gifted scholarship students took their first step into the kingdom's most elite training grounds.
Amid the buzz of laughter and gossip, a single figure emerged on foot, silent and unbothered by the grandeur.
Rael adjusted the strap of his simple satchel. His black uniform was immaculate but had no embellishments, no family crest. His short silver hair caught the morning sun, and his eyes that shimmered like both sun and moon scanned the surroundings—not in awe, but in calculation.
He had arrived before most, wanting to avoid attention. That plan failed instantly.
"Did that guy walk here?"
"No carriage? No escort?"
"Ugh… probably a commoner. Why even let them in?"
Rael didn't flinch. The voices passed through him like wind through leaves. He had learned long ago that reacting only fed the fire. Let them sneer. Let them underestimate him. It was easier that way.
---
Main Hall – Orientation
The students gathered in a vast cathedral-like hall adorned with floating chandeliers and banners representing the Four Pillars of the Academy—Sword, Magic, Strategy, and Alchemy.
A booming voice called for silence.
An elderly woman in a white robe stood at the dais, her mana pressure immense despite her frail frame. This was Headmistress Althea, known as the "Mirror of Truth."
"Welcome, students," she said. "You stand at the edge of greatness—or ruin. What you become here is your burden to bear."
She waved a hand, and magical inscriptions appeared in the air, sorting students into divisions.
Rael was assigned to Sword Division - Class C.
"Figures," he muttered.
C-classes were for unranked or common-born students. Still, it suited him. He didn't want the spotlight. Only growth.
But someone noticed him.
From across the room, sitting among the nobles, Eris von Valemont glanced his way. Her violet eyes narrowed.
"That's the boy who walked in alone. Hmph. Brave, or just stupid?"
---
Dormitory and Daybreak
Rael arrived at the dorms that evening—shared quarters for common students. He was used to cramped spaces, and this was still leagues better than the shed he grew up in.
He laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
"A Hero's blood… a Demon Lord's curse…" he whispered.
He raised his hand, palm open. Just a flicker of mana shimmered—dark and red.
He quickly clenched it.
"No. Not here."
---
The Next Morning – Sword Grounds
The sky was still pale when Rael stepped onto the dew-covered training field. Other students soon followed, chatting and laughing, forming their usual cliques.
Leonhart Margrave arrived fashionably late, flanked by lesser nobles.
"That peasant again?" he scoffed. "I swear, I'll trip over trash like him before long."
He didn't realize how prophetic that was.
The instructor arrived. Students bowed. Names were called. Pairs formed. Rael stood alone.
---
Then, a smug voice rang out.
"Well, well. Looks like the peasant's too ugly to get a partner."
All heads turned. Striding confidently was Leonhart Margrave, the third son of Marquis Margrave, known for his arrogance and flashy dueling style. He smirked and pointed his sword at Rael.
"Hey, peasant. Want me to go easy on you? I don't want to break your poor little arm before you clean my boots."
Some students chuckled.
Rael simply stepped into position without speaking. His eyes were dull, almost bored.
The instructor raised his arm.
"Begin!"
Leonhart charged with flash and speed, spinning his blade in a dance meant to impress—not kill.
Rael didn't move until the last second.
Then—
A parry. A flick. A step inward.
Rael's blade tapped Leonhart's wrist, elbow, and chest in rapid succession—each point hitting vital nerves. The noble's sword fell. His legs wobbled. Rael swept his feet, and he landed with a crash in the mud.
Stunned silence.
The instructor dropped his chalk. Several nobles gasped.
Leonhart groaned, humiliated.
And Rael? He bowed slightly, expression unchanged.
"Next time," he said softly, "learn to hold your sword."
---
From the Balcony
Eris gripped the railing.
"He's fast. Ridiculously fast. That wasn't just Luck… that was instinct."
Her cheeks flushed, and she clicked her tongue.
"D-Don't get full of yourself, peasant…"
She stormed off, but her thoughts followed him.
Just who are you, Rael…?