"Ryan Elenoir."
The quill scribbled my name with swift elegance. The woman in the sharp robes glanced at me again, eyes pausing for a moment longer than expected.
"You may proceed to the noble wing."
Luci leaned in with a wink as her name was called next.
"Luciana Elenoir."
The same nod. The same direction. "Noble wing."
Then came Eron.
"Eron Leon."
The quill hesitated.
The official looked up, confused. "An elf noble? Here? In the human branch?"
I tilted my head. "Migration, maybe?"
Eron simply smiled, a faint flicker of mystery in his violet eyes. "Long story."
We entered the noble zone together. And immediately, I hated it.
The path was lined with marble, yes, but also arrogance. Students in embroidered coats leaned against fountains, laughing at the poor souls waiting in the commoners' queue. It wasn't even subtle. One boy dropped a spellbook. A noble girl picked it up… only to toss it into the mud with a sneer.
Peasants were worse off. They were being shoved, mocked, one even slapped. And the guards? They looked bored. As if this cruelty were routine.
Luci muttered under her breath, "This system is rotten."
I agreed.
Then, the bell rang.
A hush fell like a curtain.
Out from the massive eastern gate emerged a tall, old man. His beard flowed like silver rivers, tied loosely at the end. Wrinkles carved across his face like they had stories to tell. He walked with a cane—not because he needed one, I suspected—but because he earned the right to slow time down.
Whispers buzzed like bees.
"Is that him?"
"Used to be the King's right hand."
"Now trains the crown prince."
The old man stopped in front of the gathered crowd. His deep, echoing voice quieted even the gossipers.
"Welcome, students. The next generation. I see fire in your eyes… and arrogance in some. Perhaps we'll burn that away."
He paused, his gaze slicing through us.
"I am Master Verren. Today, you will all face a preliminary strength evaluation. Pass it, and you may remain. Fail, and… well, you'll have better luck next year. That is all."
Without another word, he turned and vanished behind the gate he came from.
I exhaled.
And that's when it happened.
A hand gripped my shoulder.
I turned.
Fist.
Pain.
My world spun as I hit the ground.
Luci gasped and stepped forward, but a foot struck her side, sending her flying into the dirt.
"Still playing hero?"
Bever.
Standing above us with two senior mages flanking him. His smile was poison.
"I told you I had connections, didn't I?" Bever said. "These two… are from my brother's guild. Elite mages. Oh, and the guards? They're on our side too."
The guards didn't move. Just watched. Cold. Complicit.
Eron, bless his soul, ran forward to shield me.
Mistake.
Bever's boot slammed into his chest, sending him tumbling like a ragdoll. Blood splattered from his lips. His shirt tore. Skin shredded.
"ERON!" Luci screamed.
She lit up—literally. Flames burst from her palms. "You damned ugly bastard!"
She lunged.
One mage raised his staff and froze her mid-air. Ice bound her limbs. She collapsed like a statue.
The other mage smirked. "Pretty little rebel." He walked toward her, boot raised.
But he didn't get the chance.
I was there. In a blink.
Took the kick instead.
It wasn't just a kick. It was cast with kinetic amplification.
My ribs groaned as I flew back with Luci in my arms, landing hard on the grass.
"Damn it," I wheezed. "That was a spell."
Still on one knee, I looked up at Bever.
"Sorry for the inconvenience," I said, teeth clenched.
Bever laughed. "Now you know your place."
He sauntered over to Eron, who was barely conscious, and ripped his already torn shirt further, exposing him and humiliating him.
Luci cried out, "Ryan! WHY are you apologizing!?"
But when she turned, I was gone.
Luci's POV: "Wait… Ryan? Where did he—?"
And then—
CRACK!
Bever flew.
Across the courtyard. His body bounced, skidded, stopped.
Ryan stood where he had been, eyes glowing faintly, hair loosened, breath steady.
Eron, barely opening his bruised eyes, caught a glimpse of the one who had struck Bever—and froze. For a moment, he forgot pain. Before him stood not a student, but something else.
A devil in human form. Eyes casting silver waves like stormlight—waves filled with hunger. Hunger not for blood, but for justice. For revenge. For his own unspoken cause. His body was tense, lithe, like a panther mid-pounce, exuding danger and silence in equal measure.
And it terrified Eron.
The first mage turned, casting a binding spell.
Ryan dodged.
Fast.
A twist, a pivot, and a strike to the mage's vitals—neck, ribs, temple. The man crumpled, unconscious.
But his parting spell hit Ryan's legs, locking them in ice.
The second mage grinned. "Now you're mine."
He raised his staff.
"RYAN!" Luci screamed.
SMAAASHHHH!!
A shockwave split the air.
The second mage was gone. Buried. Slammed into the stone tiles with force enough to crack the ground.
A new boy stood above him.
Hand still gripping the mage's collar.
Calmly, he looked up. "Hi. I'm Praller."
Ryan blinked. "Huh?"
And fainted.
---
When I came to, Luci's face hovered over mine.
"You okay?"
"Still have ribs. So, probably."
Officials had arrived. Finally. The two mages were being dragged away in cuffs. Bever got nothing but a formal warning.
But the look in his eyes? Still burning with revenge.
Eron was healing, though weak.
And beside us stood Praller.
Tall, built like a fortress, eyes like volcanic gold.
I stood up, brushing dust off my coat.
"Thanks," I said.
Praller smiled. "It's my duty."
"What's your full name?" I asked.
"Praller Fire."
Luci's jaw dropped. "WHAT? Wait. No. You mean like—"
"Yes," Praller nodded. "Son of Lord Agni