Three months hadpassed.
The capital had changed very little. The roads were still paved in polished stone, the carriages still adorned in noble crests, and the skies still carried the same golden glow at dawn. But something had changed within me. The name I carried now wasn't just Ryan. I was Nightveil. T. Ryan—heir to a legacy buried under betrayal.
As I stood in front of the massive mirror in the inn's room, I adjusted the lapel of my academy-issued coat. Zenon Academy. The place where the new generation of warriors, nobles, and scholars would rise. And possibly... where old scores might be settled.
I tied my hair back into a loose knot. I'd kept it a bit longer these days, just like my father had in the old paintings.
A knock on the door snapped me out of my thoughts.
"Open up! Or I swear I'll melt the lock with my charm!"
I smirked.
"It's open, Luci."
The door flung open, and there she was—Luciana elenoir. Or as she proudly called herself, "The future Archmage Queen of Everything That Sparkles." A flaming red scarf danced around her neck despite the heat, and a pair of goggles rested atop her short, spiky blue hair. She looked like chaos in boots.
"Ready for our grand entrance?" she grinned. "I brought snacks. And a spoon in case someone tries to act noble."
"A spoon?"
"To scoop out their pride."
I chuckled. Luci had been assigned as my traveling partner by the academy registry, and in just a few days, she'd managed to insult three gatekeepers, charm two potion vendors, and accidentally blow up a food stall. Somehow, it made sense.
As we walked through the morning crowd, Luci kept pointing at everything.
"Look, Ryan! That pigeon looks like my uncle after he lost his eyebrows to a spell mishap."
"How do you know what your uncle's eyebrows looked like?"
"We don't talk about that birthday."
Finally, we reached the academy.
A colossal gate rose before us—black steel woven with glowing silver runes. It shimmered like a portal between two worlds. Behind it stood Zenon Academy, less of a school and more of a fortress-palace. Spires, towers, banners. It screamed: Only the best survive here.
"Okay," Luci whispered, nudging me. "Try to look cool. Like you've never been hit by a chicken spell."
"You've been hit by a chicken spell?"
"Twice."
We stepped through the gates.
The inner courtyard was huge—filled with students, some dressed in rich silk, others in humble tunics. And then we heard it.
A sharp cry. A slap. A cruel laugh.
To our right, beneath the shadow of a marble archway, a blond-haired human in noble attire was beating up a young elf. Two of his goons were laughing as they kicked the elf's dropped satchel into a nearby pond.
Luci stopped. Her eyes narrowed.
I didn't.
I kept walking.
"Ryan?" she called.
I didn't answer.
"If I help him now, who's going to help me later?" I thought. "The world doesn't run on kindness. It runs on power. And power says: mind your business."
Then came that voice.
"HEY! What do you think you're doing?!"
Luci's shout echoed through the courtyard like thunder.
I sighed. "Here we go…"
The blond noble turned.
He was tall, smug, and had the kind of face you'd love to punch in slow motion. His white coat was lined in gold and embroidered with the crest of the Bever family.
"The name's Bever. Noble D. Bever," he said, flipping his hair like it mattered. "This is none of your business, cutie. Unless... you'd like to join me. I am quite handsome, you know."
Luci tilted her head. "Even my garden dog has better taste than you. And he eats socks."
The courtyard gasped.
Bever's smile faded. "You've got guts, girl. My brother is the vice-leader of one of the elite guilds. You might wanna think twice."
I walked up beside Luci, hands in my pockets.
"Let's just go. It's not worth it," I said casually.
Luci stared at me, betrayed. "Ryan... they're beating up an elf!"
"Yeah, and the elf isn't our responsibility."
"ENOUGH!" Bever shouted.
He lunged toward Luci, hand glowing with aura.
Big mistake.
Luci grabbed his wrist mid-air, twisted it, and flipped him flat on his back with a satisfying thud.
The courtyard gasped again.
Two of Bever's goons jumped toward her from behind.
Before their feet left the ground, I stepped forward.
"I won't let you attack from the back," I said coldly. "Face her properly."
One of them froze, stunned by my tone, then nodded and stepped forward.
The fight began.
Three against one.
Luci was fast—dodging, weaving, throwing small bursts of flame—but she was getting exhausted. Her scarf had loosened, her breathing quickened.
Bever smirked, pulling a small ancient tool from his coat.
"Let me show you something beautiful," he sneered.
He whispered a command into the relic. It glowed—a forbidden magic embedded into steel.
He fired.
A blue blaze hurtled toward Luci.
Flash.
I moved.
In a single leap, I grabbed Luci and flipped us over a nearby stone bench. The attack missed by inches.
I landed, holding her. Her eyes were wide. "You caught me."
"Don't get used to it."
I stood up, placing Luci behind me.
"Enough."
I stepped forward. Bever and his friends laughed.
"You think you can scare us—"
THUD.
One punch.
Bever's first goon dropped.
CRACK.
A kick to the second's gut. He crumpled.
I walked up to Bever.
He raised the ancient tool again, trembling.
Three quick moves.
One strike to the shoulder. One to the side of the knee. One to the chin.
All three were on their knees.
Silence fell.
Bever coughed, holding his jaw. "You'll regret this. I'll tell my big brother."
I shrugged. "Do what you want."
I turned to Luci, who was already dragging the elf to a shaded bench and starting some healing magic.
We rested under a tree.
"You okay?" I asked her.
"I told you not to interfere," I added.
"Yeah, yeah," she muttered. "But someone had to help him."
I watched her as she spoke gentle words to the elf boy.
She's soft with everyone… except me.
The elf, bandaged and grateful, bowed. "Thank you."
Luci turned, arms crossed. "You're welcome. I guess."
"Huh... wellcaaa...me," I said, almost choked on the word.
We walked together through the inner garden. The elf had joined us now—his name was Eron, a first-year alchemy student.
We were now three.
At the central plaza, we reached a long registration line.
I turned to the guy in front of us.
"What's the line for?"
"They're dividing students," he said. "Nobles to the east, commons in the center, peasants to the west."
I raised a brow. "Still running the world on labels, huh."
I smirked.
"If I said I was Nightveil, their faces would melt."
We finally reached the front.
A woman in sharp robes and a floating quill glanced up.
"Name?"
I smiled politely.
"Ryan Elenoir."