We crossed the fountain again—this time taking the center path. At the end stood a wide platform carved with ancient runes, softly glowing beneath our steps. Before I could ask, the platform gently lifted us up like some kind of elevator. Magic-fueled, I guessed. Still... not what I expected in a place that felt so "medieval."
Once it stopped, we stepped into a grand open hall—vaulted ceilings held by marble columns, etched with crests I didn't recognize, and walls lined with glass-like crystal that shimmered under floating lights. At the center, rows of students had already begun taking their seats.
"I guess this is the opening speech," I muttered under my breath.
"You're right," Elowynn replied, her voice flat but attentive as her eyes scanned the crowd.
I glanced around, and that's when I noticed it—the way eyes followed her.
Dozens of them. From boys pretending to hide it behind yawns, to girls stiffening slightly as we passed. None of them dared say anything aloud, but their expressions... they were clear. Caution. Curiosity. Some envy.
I shifted beside her, awkwardly.
Even as a supposed servant, I felt like a walking target just by association. And the worst part? She didn't even flinch under the weight of it. She walked with the same silent grace she always had—silver-blonde hair slightly swaying, posture perfect, eyes forward like she belonged here more than anyone else.
I wondered, just for a moment, how much a lesser noble feared someone like her. And worse… what they might be willing to do to feel equal.
I took a slow breath, trying to settle my nerves.
Common sense—don't make a scene on the first day. That should be rule number one in every world.
We finally found our assigned seats, thanks to the engraved labels on each desk. I almost sighed in relief once I sat down. Not because the chair was comfortable, but because I hadn't dropped dead under the weight of all those stares.
Elowynn remained completely composed beside me, unfazed. Of course.
As the last of the students settled in, the lights above dimmed for a moment—then gradually flared to life, casting a warm golden hue over the chamber. All attention turned to the stage.
A magical circle lit up at the center, intricate and old, etched into the marble floor. It pulsed softly, and then—just like that—an elder man materialized in its glow.
He stood tall with an air of seasoned authority, his long robe shimmering faintly with embedded threads of mana. His beard was white, flowing, but well-trimmed, and his eyes scanned the hall with piercing clarity. Definitely not someone to underestimate.
That's the headmaster, I thought to myself. He didn't need an introduction—I could just feel it. The way the room went silent the moment he appeared was enough proof.
This man was the one who governed Aetherfall Academy… and probably held the lives of every student in his hand.
And just like that, the real beginning started.
The elder man took a moment, letting the silence linger. His gaze swept across the hall—calm, calculating, as if measuring every soul present.
Then he spoke. His voice didn't need to be raised. It carried on its own, rich and firm, as if the very walls leaned in to listen.
"Welcome to Aetherfall Academy, the cradle of knowledge, the crucible of ambition, and the forge of fate."
No dramatic gestures. Just words—but words that felt carved into the bones of the building itself.
"Each of you comes here bearing a name—be it noble, humble, or forgotten. But in these walls, those names are stripped of privilege. Here, you will be measured not by your birthright, but by your merit. By your will."
The nobles didn't flinch, but some of the lesser-born students shifted in their seats.
"Magic is no longer the stuff of myths, nor a gift passed by bloodlines alone. It is a tool. A discipline. A burden. And those who wield it poorly, fall."
His eyes drifted over the student body—briefly resting on Elowynn. I could feel it. So could she.
"Within Aetherfall, you will learn to rise… or be left behind."
Another pause. The magical circle beneath him began to dim slowly, as if concluding a ritual rather than a speech.
"To those who seek comfort, I advise withdrawal. To those who seek power, beware the price. And to those who seek truth—prepare to be undone."
The silence returned like a heavy curtain.
Then with one step, the elder turned and vanished into the same circle that birthed him, leaving behind only a faint shimmer of mana and a hundred new burdens resting on our shoulders.
I leaned back slightly, letting the tension ease from my body.
"Well…" I muttered quietly. "He knows how to give a first impression."
Elowynn gave me a sideways glance. "He always does. That's Headmaster Kael Solmira—he's been the head of this academy since the reign of the last king."
"Wait, he's that old?"
She gave a small nod. "He was said to be the Grand Arcanist before he vanished from court affairs."
I glanced back at the now-empty stage, unease threading through me. This place... was on a completely different level.
And this was just the opening speech.
The servant classrooms were far humbler. No fancy woodwork, no glowing sigils, just solid stone walls and polished floors. Still, it was clean, and had a certain peaceful simplicity.
I found my assigned room and stepped inside.
There were only about a dozen of us—servants from different noble houses, all around my age. Some looked bored, others curious. A few looked too tired to care.
Our instructor, a lean man with glasses and neatly tied hair, welcomed us with a polite nod. His clothes weren't flashy, but there was a quiet authority in how he carried himself.
"Welcome, attendees. Today we will begin with basic Magika Kema—reading and writing in the common tongue of Aetherfall. I understand some of you come from outside the kingdom, so don't worry if you aren't fluent yet."
That was directed at me—I was sure of it given that i don't have the common feature of an aetherian they say.
I pulled out my writing tools, remembering what Tharus gave me when I first arrived in this world. I had already studied the basics, but this would be the first time I'd apply it in a formal setting.
As I glanced at the script on the chalkboard, I felt oddly... calm. Back on Earth, I never thought I'd find myself in a classroom again, especially not one like this. Yet here I was, relearning how to read and write—again.
Another beginning... maybe this one will make more sense.
I leaned forward and began taking notes. Whatever came next, I had to keep up.
The instructor turned to the chalkboard and with a swift, practiced motion, wrote three words in bold Magika Kema script:
Eno – Owt – Eerth
He underlined them once, then turned to face us.
"These are the first three base numerals in our number system," he began. "You will find them used not only in written records, but embedded in spells, coordinates, and even formations during wartime."
I stared at the words on the board. My hand, gripping the charcoal stylus, hesitated for a moment before I scribbled them down.
Eno. Owt. Eerth.
My brows furrowed.
Wait a minute...
I mouthed the syllables silently to myself.
"Eno... one. Owt... two. Eerth... three..."
I nearly muttered it out loud. They're just "one, two, three"... spelled backwards?
I looked up again, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
The instructor continued, now writing the next set beneath:
Ruof – Evif – Xis
Four... five... six.
I leaned back slightly in my chair, incredulous.
"This can't be a coincidence..." I whispered to myself.
My mind raced. If the language of this world has a number system that's reversed from English phonetics—then whoever made it had either the strangest sense of humor... or—
Serenya's voice echoed gently in my mind.
"You're beginning to see it, aren't you?"
See what? I responded mentally, without breaking my eye contact from the board.
"This world remembers. It carries the remnants of something older—maybe even familiar to you. That is why you understand."
I felt a chill crawl up my neck. The idea that fragments of Earth—or something like it—bled into this world made my stomach turn.
"Now then," the instructor said, snapping me back, "Repeat after me: Eno, Owt, Eerth, Ruof, Evif, Xis, Neves, Thgie, Enin, Net."
The entire class joined in, murmuring the strange but oddly familiar chant.
"Now pair them with their numeric symbols," he added, drawing them beneath each word. Thankfully, the numbers themselves looked like the Arabic numerals I was used to—just with more curls and markings.
I carefully copied everything down, whispering the translations as I wrote. My memory began working fast—Serenya's affinity of remembrance giving me an edge.
By the end of the lesson, I had it all memorized.
And yet... a question lingered.
Why would a world like this carry echoes of mine?
I didn't have the answer. Not yet.
I leaned back in my chair, staring blankly at the chalkboard while the rest of the class continued with the chant. The instructor's voice was just white noise now.
The number system... it was literally just reversed English.
Eno, Owt, Eerth, Ruof...
A coincidence? No way. That's too specific. Too deliberate.
But why only the numbers?
I pulled out the notebook I'd been keeping and flipped to a page where I had jotted down some of the basic characters from the local language, Magika Kema. Flowing, complex strokes. Not a single letter looked like anything from the English alphabet. No A's, no Z's, no alphabet grid to reference.
Just... symbols.
That didn't add up.
Why would someone design a number system based on a reversed English pattern—but create a completely foreign alphabet for everything else?
I scribbled down two questions in the margin of my notes:
Why are the numbers reversed English?Why is the rest of the language entirely alien?
Only one explanation made sense:
Someone from Earth had been here before me.
But who?
And when?
The world of Aetherfall was old. So old that people talked about the "Mourning of the World" like it was pre-history. If that traveler had come here, it must've been long ago—so long that their traces had become folklore, legends... maybe even foundation stones.
Could it have been the First King?
The idea struck me like a bolt.
He was said to be a normal human. A man who wasn't born with talent—but invented systems. Created spirit contracts. Built kingdoms from nothing. Left behind "blueprints" no one could decipher.
That sounds less like a myth... and more like someone trying to rebuild what they lost.
Could the First King have been from Earth?
My grip on the stylus tightened.
If that's true... what did he leave behind?
And more importantly—why?