The grand throne room was as dark and imposing as the man who ruled it. Colossal black stone pillars stretched high into the vaulted ceiling, each etched with markings of conquest and chaos. Flames flickered from sconces carved in the shapes of snarling beasts, casting long shadows across the obsidian floor. At the far end of the room sat Emperor Lucan, his figure shrouded in a cloak of deep crimson, his presence alone enough to silence even the boldest of warriors.
The great doors creaked open, and the boy entered.
White hair. Calm steps. Piercing gray eyes that held the simmering heat of a storm barely restrained.
He was only fifteen—but no one looking at Riku would mistake him for a child.
He walked steadily forward, stopping at the foot of the dais. Then, with a slight bow, he lifted his head.
"Your Majesty."
Lucan leaned forward, a faint smile touching his lips. "Riku."
"You summoned me," Riku said simply.
"I did," Lucan replied. "Your time has come."
Lucan rose from his throne and descended the steps, his heavy cloak trailing behind him like a shadow come to life.
"You are to go to the Sage Empire," he said, voice echoing in the vast chamber. "You will walk among them, study their teachings, and learn to wield their Sage Art."
Riku's eyes narrowed.
"Then," Lucan said, stopping before him, "you will return. You will bring that knowledge back to your people. But make no mistake... you are one of them now. Until you return."
Lucan's tone shifted, growing quieter, heavier. "There is... one final thing."
He raised a hand, and a red aura coiled around his palm like living flame.
"For your safety," he said, "your Rage Art must be sealed."
Riku stepped back, eyes wide. "You're sealing my power?"
Lucan nodded solemnly. "If they sense even a flicker of Rage Art, they will not hesitate to destroy you."
Riku clenched his fists. "And if I need it?"
"You will learn to survive without it," Lucan said. "This is the path you must walk."
Riku hesitated. Then, with a sharp breath, he nodded.
Lucan placed a hand against Riku's chest. Red energy surged, spreading across Riku's body. His power dulled in an instant—like a roaring fire suddenly smothered.
It was done.
A Farewell Between Blood
The silence stretched for a moment.
Then Lucan extended his hand.
Riku stared at it, then took it firmly.
"Until we meet again," Lucan said.
"Until we meet again," Riku echoed.
...
..
.
The carriage that rolled up to the academy gates looked like it belonged to someone who didn't just have money, but old power. The wood was polished so perfectly you could see your reflection, the wheels gleamed gold in the sunlight, and the thing hissed as it came to a stop like it had lungs.
Heads turned. Conversations stopped. Even the flashiest noble kids stared, wide-eyed.
The door opened with a click.
Riku stepped out. Crisp white hair, cold blue eyes, and an expression like he couldn't care less what anyone thought. He wore simple black clothes with no emblem, no hint of family or status.
Behind him, a tall, gaunt older man stepped out carefully—Rone, a butler in the classic sense. Just a dude in a black suit who looked like he'd been serving tea and packing suitcases since the dawn of time.
Rone said nothing, just handed over a black briefcase, a money pouch so heavy it clinked when it landed in Riku's hand, and an old sword wrapped in cloth. Then, from his jacket pocket, he produced a sealed envelope.
"His Majesty said this was important," Rone muttered. "Some kind of pass."
Riku took the items without blinking.
Rone hesitated. He looked like he wanted to say something more—maybe offer advice, maybe a goodbye—but then he just tipped his head and climbed back into the carriage.
The door clicked shut and the carriage rolled away.
Riku stood alone at the edge of the academy.
...
..
.
The gates ahead of him opened into something so massive it could've been its own city. The Imperial Academy of Sage Arts wasn't just a school. It was a fortress, a town, a capital of knowledge and power all rolled into one. Buildings stretched into the sky like towers. Floating platforms hovered in the distance. Courtyards the size of arenas bustled with life.
And right now? It was chaos.
It was orientation day. New students were flooding in. Hundreds of them. All dressed to show off. It was like a fashion war combined with a flex-off. Families stood on the sidelines, mostly nobles with servants in tow. You could smell the wealth in the air!
Riku slung the money pouch and briefcase into a shoulder bag and melted into the crowd.
...
..
.
It didn't take long to realize something big was happening. A giant sign hung over the central plaza:
ENTRANCE EXAMS IN PROGRESS
Crowds were being funneled toward a wide-open hall, where students were signing up and getting tested. Riku paused to watch. Some kid was already mid-demonstration, hurling a blast of flame across the yard while instructors stood by with clipboards.
"This is insane," someone near him whispered. "He's like only fifteen."
Riku swallowed. His throat was dry.
His Rage Art was sealed.
Not weakened.
Gone.
Without it, he was just a regular guy with a sword he barely knew how to use.
He was screwed.
As he stood in line, still pretending like he knew what he was doing, a voice called out from ahead.
"You! White hair. Stop."
Riku turned.
A woman was walking straight toward him. She looked about mid-twenties, tall and bilt well. Long purple hair, tied in a braid that bounced behind her as she walked, and a uniform that said Instructor—but not the soft, scholarly type.
Her top was a buttoned black vest, and yeah, okay, her chest was hard to ignore. But it was her eyes that made you flinch. Sharp, bored, and tired of dealing with people dumber than her.
"What's that in your pocket?"
Riku blinked. "Huh?"
She pointed. "The envelope."
He slowly pulled it out.
She snatched it from his hand, cracked the seal, read it, then stared at him like he just turned into a puzzle.
"Well, shit," she muttered. Then louder, "Side entrance. Now."
Riku didn't move. "What?"
"You don't need to take the exam. You're already in."
He stared. "I… what?"
She rolled her eyes. " Gods help us. Come on."
She led him down a side path that curved around the main courtyard. The noise of testing faded behind them as they reached a quieter wing with its own gate, manned by silent guards in white armor.
Inside was a lounge. Plush seats. Private snacks. Air conditioning. The whole place smelled like lavender and money.
Six other students were already there.
A girl with spiky red hair and piercings in both ears, lounging like she owned the couch. Combat boots up on the table. A smirk that said she was already bored.
The second was a tall guy in a coat way too expensive for someone his age. His hair was silver and gelled. Eyhhes cold. Book in hand. He didn't look up.
The third a small girl with goggles. The fourth and fifth: Twin boys, both with bright white suits and smirks. One was chewing a toothpick. The other kept cracking his knuckles like a tic. They moved like mirrors.
The sixth was a massive dude who looked like he'd been carved out of a mountain. Silent. Still. Breathing slow like he was asleep, but his eyes tracked everything.
Riku stood awkwardly by the door.
"Yo," someone said beside him.
He turned.
It was a boy about his age, with sun-tanned skin and a lazy grin. Messy brown hair, jacket slung over one shoulder, sword strapped to his back like he knew how to use it.
"Name's Daz," the boy said. "You looked lost."
"Riku. So what is a pass exactly?"
Daz raised his eyebrows. "Wait. You really don't know?"
Riku shook his head.
"Man. Okay. A Pass is a direct exemption from entrance exams. It means someone pulled strings. Big ones. Most nobles wish they had one."
Daz leaned back on the couch and laughed. "Damn. This is gonna be fun."
Through the windows, the exams were still going. Some passed. Some failed. Riku stayed silent, staring. His power was gone. His mission was clear.
And his first challenge wasn't surviving school.
It was pretending he belonged.