I'm sitting there near the stage first student, front row seat, practically breathing the chalk dust off the podium and of course, Princess Tristan plopped right next to me. Yay. Royal neighbors. The auditorium itself looked like it was built to swallow a city square tiered seats packed with fresh uniforms, chatter echoing under the domed ceiling like the tide.
The principal a woman in her thirties with the kind of polished voice that sounded like it had been trained in front of mirrors droned on. Greatness, honor, legacy. The usual "welcome to your new life" speech. I tuned out halfway, watching instead the small gestures people made: yawns stifled with stiff collars, Tristan's restless fingers tapping on her knees, the sound of a hundred stomachs regretting skipped breakfast.
Then the principal finished, and her voice snapped sharp.
"And now, I would like to welcome to the stage the School Representative, the President of the Student Council, and the Leader of the Aurora Sentinels Selvaria Veyra Caelora."
A ripple went through the crowd claps, whispers, a mix of awe and nerves.
Selvaria walked up with the calm, crushing presence of someone who already lived ten years ahead of us. She wasn't tall in the giantess sense, but she wore her height like a crown long coat draped over her uniform, a gleaming badge of the Aurora Sentinels pinned at her chest. Her silvered-black hair was braided sharp and tight, nothing out of place. Her eyes, though, were what caught everyone: steady, crystalline, the kind that made you think she could see through you and weigh the worth of your soul like coins.
When she spoke, her voice carried without needing the crystal amplifiers.
"Welcome to Elyndral Academy," Selvaria said. "You are not here because you were lucky. You are here because you are capable. Capable of more than you realize. Each of you is a page in a history that does not stop being written. And this place this crucible will decide if your name is ink, or dust."
The silence that followed wasn't respectful it was spellbound. Even Tristan sat straighter, her smile faint but real.
I clapped too, because what else was I supposed to do? But all I thought was:
Great. Another person I'll have to deal with eventually.
Damn it.
No rest. Not a second to catch your breath after all that pomp and speeches. The principal, the Aurora Sentinel leader, the school representatives all gone, leaving us like sheep being herded into our classrooms.
We were filed in, step by step, until we reached the Diamond Class. The top thirty from the test.
Diamond Class. Big name, bigger expectations. Ryn had explained it on the walk over: more funding, better equipment, advanced simulations, access to private libraries… basically, everything the lower classes only dreamed of. And if you didn't keep your scores high, you got demoted. A cruel incentive, really, but it made sense. Only the best got the best.
The room itself was… impressive. Sleek desks, individual holo-screens embedded in the surface, energy projectors hovering above each station. I'd seen libraries with less tech than this.
The homeroom teacher came in then.
A woman in her late twenties, but you could tell from the aura and posture she carried decades of experience. Her hair was tied back neatly, and her robes practical, but elegant marked her as an Endowal and magic specialist.
She smiled at the class, warm but careful, and my mind immediately registered the mix of approachability and authority.
"Good morning, Diamond Class," she said. Voice calm, steady. "I'm Professor Lysandra Veyrel, and I'll be your homeroom and Endowal instructor. My goal is simple: I want each of you to succeed. I will not allow anyone here to hurt themselves or each other through negligence. And I will not tolerate carelessness with your grades. Every one of you has the potential to surpass your limits—but only if you respect your tools, your studies, and yourselves."
A few students murmured greetings. Tristan nodded politely, adjusting her uniform.
I stayed quiet, observing. She seemed nice, genuinely so, but you could tell the strictness ran beneath it like a current. Health, safety, grades she was watching all three. Every flicker of exhaustion, every misstep. Not a hint of favoritism, no whispers for the elite just a teacher hellbent on getting results from her students.
Perfect.
Diamond Class. Better tools. Better training. And a teacher who wouldn't let anyone waste potential.
I took my seat at the very back, leaning just enough to make the chair creak.
Professor Lysandra stood at the front of the class back straight, hands clasped behind her and with a flick of her finger, a luminescent circle appeared behind her. Symbols spun like constellations as her voice filled the room.
"While all of you have already learned this in your early years," she began, her tone both sharp and inviting, "we will still review it. A foundation, no matter how familiar, must be reinforced especially when it concerns Endowals."
The class quieted immediately.
"Endowals," she continued, "are a recent phenomenon in the grand timeline of existence only ten thousand years old. Compared to magic, which predates creation itself, Endowals are newborns. They are anomalies distortions in how an individual interacts with magical essence. They cannot be taught, only awakened."
A hand rose in the front row. "So, they're like natural-born quirks, Professor?"
Lysandra smiled faintly. "If you wish to compare them to such things, yes. But remember every Endowal carries the potential to alter ecosystems or destabilize regions of magic. A single mutation can shift the balance of an entire ley-line."
Her gaze swept across the room, letting the weight of her words settle.
"Endowals emerge from three main origins," she said, conjuring three runes crimson, violet, and green. "Genetic passed through bloodlines, predictable yet rarely remarkable. Artificial the result of experiments or accidents, unstable and dangerous. And Environmental born of prolonged exposure to ley-lines, voidstone veins, or essence storms."
She let the runes fade. "Thus, while anyone can study magic, not everyone can bear an Endowal. You may train your mind, but not your soul. An Endowal is like lightning it strikes or it doesn't."
A few uneasy murmurs followed, quickly silenced when she added, "And when it does, you must learn to survive it."
Her next gesture summoned a golden list across the board.
"Endowals are graded by five standards: Type, Situational Use, Control, Potential, and Strength. Treat it like an exam rubric if you wish though in practice, failure can be fatal."
That drew the class's full attention.
"Now, to review the main Types." Eight sigils shimmered into view.
"Manipulator - the most common. Control over forces, elements, or even abstract concepts. Fire, gravity, memory… even magic itself."
"Transformation - the body as the vessel of change. Some become beasts; others, living weapons."
"Healer - rare and stable, capable of mending or transferring damage."
"Defender - those who create shields, wards, and counters; the reason cities still stand."
"Enhancer - amplifies physical traits: strength, speed, perception."
"Summoner- calls forth creatures, constructs, or spirits."
"Resonator - links and amplifies, connecting with others, beasts, or nature."
"And lastly, Shifters - reality distorters. They bend perception, phase through matter, even create dimensions. Extremely rare… and deeply feared."
A tense silence followed before she moved on.
"Endowals are not fixed," Lysandra continued, turning to the board again. "They evolve. Grow. Sometimes mutate. A Ice Manipulator may reach Absolute Zero; a Healer may mend entire armies. But evolution demands discipline power changes identity, and not all survive the transformation."
She let that hang in the air before continuing, her tone softening.
"Now, the distinction you must never forget: magic and Endowals are not the same. Magic is ancient, learned, and universal. Endowals are recent, innate, and personal. You study magic but you live an Endowal."
Her eyes gleamed in the dim light.
"They are, in essence, the universe's stutter the cosmos mispronouncing itself. And sometimes," she smiled faintly, "in those mispronunciations, we find new truths."
Silence again not from fear this time, but awe.
Then the bell chimed sharp and clear signaling the a short rest we were granted. Our teacher, Ms. Veyrel, stopped mid-sentence, her kind but firm tone softening.
"Well, class, ten-minute break. I'll be back shortly to teach you about the foundations of magic. Don't wander too far."
And just like that, she left, the faint scent of her lilac perfume lingering in the air.
The classroom immediately shifted from quiet focus to buzzing chatter. Students stretched, laughed, and began introducing themselves alliances already forming like instinct.
Of course, most of them swarmed around the princess. Tristan Beaumont.
Her laughter was soft and practiced, the kind of warmth that drew people in without effort. She handled their attention with grace, answering every question, every compliment, every eager attempt to befriend her.
But even through the crowd, I could feel it her eyes. Those faint, stolen glances in my direction.
It wasn't the kind of look that said curiosity or suspicion. It was something subtler a flicker of awareness, like she was quietly assessing me, trying to place me somewhere she couldn't quite remember.
I didn't move. I simply sat there, back straight, hands folded on the desk. My silence and the cold stillness that surrounded me worked as an unspoken wall. A few students thought about approaching… until they didn't.
My aura had always been like that detached, distant. It wasn't intentional. But here, in this world where I didn't belong, it was the only shield I had.
Still, as the laughter of the class echoed around me and I caught one more fleeting glance from the princess
The bell chimed again soft but commanding and the room fell quiet as Ms. Veyrel reentered. Her robes shimmered faintly under the light, embroidered with delicate sigils that pulsed in rhythm with her mana. She carried no notes, no tablet just a quiet authority that filled the room.
"Everyone back in your seats," she said, tone calm but absolute. Chairs scraped and conversations ended mid-laugh as the diamond class returned to order.
She waited. Not impatiently just expectantly. When the last whisper died, she smiled.
"Good. Let's begin."
Then, with a fluid motion of her hand, she traced a glowing circle in the air. Glyphs bloomed to life in azure light, orbiting her fingertips like tiny stars.
"Lesson one," she began. "Universal Accessibility of the Arcane."
Her voice carried like the hum of an ancient melody soft but unyielding.
"Magic is not the birthright of the few it is the inheritance of all."
Every student's eyes followed the luminous circle. Even the ones who'd looked bored before were drawn in.
She paced slowly as she spoke, the circle rotating beside her like a patient moon.
"Every living being can draw upon the particles of essence mana, quintessence, spirit breath, whichever name your culture favors. These particles suffuse the world. They gather in the air, the earth, and most importantly, within ourselves."
She gestured, and the floating circle fractured into countless specks of light drifting like dust motes.
"Yet though all may touch the arcane, not all wield it equally. Each soul is inclined affined to certain elements more than others. The fire-born may call flame with a whisper, yet struggle endlessly with water. A rare few stand balanced across the spectrum the Equilibrials."
Some students scribbled furiously. Others whispered, awed. I simply watched. Memorizing every motion, every spark, every word.
Then came the real heart of the lecture
The Two Casting Paths.
Instant casting. Circle casting.
She compared them beautifully like speech and writing.
"Instant casting is the breath of magic. Quick. Reactive. But fragile."
"Circle casting is its script. Structured. Lasting. Precise. You carve your intent into reality, and reality listens."
As she continued through the ten sections, diagrams danced in the air spinning glyphs, glowing symbols, shifting colors for each element. Fire. Ice. Void. Even rarer ones Soul and Space flickered faintly like distant stars.
Every concept she explained with perfect clarity.
The three pillars of casting: Power, Intent, Belief.
The laws of balance: strain, complexity, amplification, backlash.
The multi-element circles and their danger.
The 3D lattice theory that only master mages perceived.
Each word carved itself into my mind.
And when she reached the end, her tone deepened reverent, almost solemn.
"Magic, then, is not chaos. It is order an art with grammar, balance, and consequence. To cast is to converse with the universe itself. To master it is not merely to speak but to persuade the cosmos to obey."
She lifted her hand one final time, letting the circle dissolve into golden sparks that faded like sunset dust.
"Power," she said quietly, "is not in knowing circles. Power is in knowing which circles not to draw."
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then a student whispered, "That was… amazing."
The bell's sharp clang broke the spell of her words, echoing across the room like a sudden awakening. For a second, no one moved it was as if everyone needed a moment to process what they'd just learned. Then came the inevitable sound of chairs scraping and chatter bursting back to life.
Students hurriedly packed their notes, some already discussing the lecture with wide eyes and wild theories.
"I bet I can do a three-ring circle by next week!" one boasted.
"Yeah, sure," another snorted. "Try not to blow up the dorm first."
I stood up slowly, stretching a little, glancing at the glowing residue of mana that still lingered faintly in the air. Ms. Virelle was calmly erasing the spell circle she'd used earlier the glyphs dispersing into faint wisps before vanishing entirely.
Just as the first few students reached the door, her voice called out again calm, but cutting through the noise effortlessly.
"Before you all run off to the cafeteria," she said, turning toward us with a small, knowing smile, "tomorrow we'll begin your first practical assessment."
The room went quiet again.
"You've spent all morning learning how magic works," she continued, "so tomorrow, you'll show me how well you can make it work. Bring your focus, your will, and your circle-drawing tools. And do not—" her tone sharpened slightly "—stay up all night trying to cram spells. I'll know."
A few nervous laughs rippled through the class.
Then she softened again, folding her arms. "Dismissed."
The moment she said it, the energy in the room exploded again. Students began filing out, some excited, some groaning. I could already hear a few whispering about which element they'd try, or how hard the test might be.
As I walked out, I glanced over and noticed Princess Tristan still surrounded by her usual cluster of admirers, smiling gracefully but just for a moment her eyes flicked toward me again.
I ignored it, hands in my pockets, and stepped into the hall with the rest of the students heading toward the cafeteria.
I walked toward the cafeteria, following the stream of students that spilled from the hallways like a river of chatter and laughter. Some broke off toward the dorm wings the ones who came from outside the kingdom while others, like me, headed straight for food.
The moment I stepped inside, I paused.
The cafeteria was massive. Wide arched ceilings, sunlight pouring in through enchanted skylights, the air filled with the mingled scents of spice, roasted meat, and fresh bread. Rows of long tables and chairs filled the space, but even with the crowd, there was still enough room for everyone.
I grabbed a tray and joined the line at the serving are which looked more like a royal banquet than a school cafeteria. Steam rose from polished silver trays and crystal bowls. There was rice, fried rice, roasted vegetables, fresh bread, omelets, grilled fish, and more. It was styled like an all-you-can-eat buffet, though the attendants wore neat uniforms with the academy's crest embroidered over their hearts.
After scanning the options, I chose potage parmentier a creamy French leek-and-potato soup its aroma comforting and faintly buttery. I added a bowl of fried rice, two fried eggs, a small dish of soy sauce, and finally poured myself a cup of chilled orange juice.
Balancing my tray, I stepped away from the line and glanced around the cafeteria. Most tables were already forming little groups laughter, introductions, the start of friendships. I spotted some of my classmate chatting animatedly with a few others from Diamond Class, while Princess Tristan sat at a more reserved corner surrounded by students who seemed more like attendants than friends.
I walked through rows of students until I found a quiet spot near the window. The sunlight spilled across my table, and for a moment, I could enjoy the peace my potage parmentier steaming gently beside my tray.
Of course, at a school this big, peace was always temporary.
Across the room, a commotion caught my attention. Two seniors, both in full uniform but accented differently one with purple and a hawk with lightning emblazoned on his wings, the other with red and a hand clutching a golden goblet dripping blood were squaring off.
The purple-accented senior stormed forward, swinging a solid blow to the red one's back.
"Damn Goblet fuckers!" he spat, teeth bared. "Just because you come from a Duke family doesn't mean you can lock my sister in the water simulation! She nearly drowned because of you!"
The red-accented senior barely flinched, brushing an invisible speck of dust from his collar. Slowly, he turned, a smirk twisting his face. "Oh?" he drawled, voice smooth, unsettlingly calm. "Your sister should've known her place. The simulation is for mages, not peasants who panic the moment the water rises above their knees."
The purple senior's veins bulged in his neck. He seized the red one by the collar and slammed him into the wall with a force that rattled plates and cups nearby. Gasps erupted, and the cafeteria went silent.
"You could've killed her!" he growled, barely containing his fury. "She's still in the infirmary! Do you find this amusing?"
The red-accented senior's smirk widened. "Killed her? Please. The weak drown every year. Consider it natural selection."
That was the last straw. The purple senior's fist surged with crackling blue Endowal energy, arcs dancing along his arm. "I'll show you natural—"
"Enough!"
The word tore through the room like a thunderclap.
Students instinctively scattered as Professor Lysandra appeared, her presence commanding and sharp. Her coat flared with her movement, and her eyes burned with quiet fury.
"Do you children have any idea where you are?" she said, her tone deceptively calm. "Fighting in the cafeteria in uniform, no less?"
Both seniors froze, their Endowal energy snapping out like snuffed candles.
"You two detention. Report to the Disciplinary Wing after classes. And if I ever see unauthorized Endowal use on school grounds again, you'll be scrubbing the spell-engraving floors for a month."
She swept a single, withering glance across the cafeteria. "The rest of you eat. Talk. Breathe. But don't test me."
A tense silence lingered for a few seconds after she left. Then, cautiously, the chatter resumed softer at first, then building again.
I leaned back in my chair, exhaling. So this was Elyndral Academy, where even lunch could turn into a battlefield.
I sipped my orange juice, glancing at the purple-accented senior. Even as he left, his glare remained fixed on the red one.
My thoughts were interrupted by the clatter of a tray being set in front of me. I looked down and… holy hell. The bowl before me had mountains of rice stacked so high I swore it was reaching the ceiling.
"Hello there!" a cheerful male voice greeted. "I'm Kael Thornhart you might have heard of me. I'm the Green Aurora Sentinel."
I barely looked up, offering only a quiet, "Ok," before returning to my food.
Kael didn't seem to notice or didn't care about my silence. He continued talking, his voice brimming with unfiltered enthusiasm as he gestured with his chopsticks.
"I have to say… you're impressive," he said after a few moments, leaning slightly closer. "Gaining a perfect score on both the written and practical exams without using your Endowals or magic? The last person to do that was Captain Selvaria and even she had to rely on her Endowal to pull it off."
I paused, just a fraction, letting my chopsticks hover over the rice. "Huh," I muttered, noncommittally.
Kael's grin only widened, clearly undeterred by my lack of engagement. "Seriously, most students would have melted down by stage fifty of the practical. Stage three thousand? Without touching your Endowals? That's… well, I've never actually seen anyone do that. Not in my lifetime."
I resumed eating, quietly, my aura still radiating that cold, dissuasive chill that kept the surrounding students at a respectful distance. Kael, either brave or blissfully oblivious kept talking, filling the silence with a stream of anecdotes about the Aurora Sentinels, past tests, and legendary feats.