The beginning of the beginning.ll
The soft winter sun draped its rays across the sprawling courtyard of the academy. The sounds of students blended with the clashing of swords and the noise of training, while the newcomers lined up in orderly rows, eyes filled with tension and anticipation. The first trial was about to begin, each of them clinging to their own dream and desire to prove themselves.
Among them stood Richard, anxious, biting his lower lip from time to time. The language barrier still stood like a solid wall between him and his new peers, but he had learned enough to understand basic instructions. He took a deep breath as his eyes wandered over the wide arena ahead. It felt like the whole world was expecting something from him, but he wasn't sure he could meet those expectations. His resolve wavered, his thoughts overwhelmed him, and the hope he clung to betrayed him. The slave syndrome crept back into his mind—he felt lost, unanchored, not knowing where he belonged. Even his powers and magic might abandon him at any second due to the curse around his neck, hidden beneath a cloth wrapped around it.
At the far end stood the one with coal-black and white hair. His back was straight, his eyes sharp. His calm demeanor and imposing aura caused some students to step aside as he passed—as if a dragon was making its way through men. His royal presence aided him, and his crimson eyes exalted him—though he hated it. He had no control over his status. He had become a slave to his own majesty, a puppet to his actions. He was born to be a prince, born to be feared by his people. Born to be Noah.
Those crimson eyes were watching—not only what was happening but also the blond newcomer. The boy who seemed to harbor the secret of the galaxy. Surrounded by a world of mystery. He was like a mass of unspoken questions—an expression of hidden despair coated in hope, sorrow masked in joy. He was nothing more than a stranger to this kingdom.
The arena buzzed with murmurs, laughter here, grumbles there. To Richard, it all formed a single wave of noise that resided in his mind. The blond grew nervous; his breathing quickened, his vision blurred. His left hand clutched at his neck—at his mark. The mark of slavery. His eternal damnation. For reasons he couldn't understand, thoughts swarmed his mind, and the mark reacted, emitting faint shocks that irritated him.
A young man, perhaps slightly older than him, with shimmering black hair and mischievous teal eyes, stepped forward. Nicholas approached, his voice carrying a tone that drew a few glances—including that of Prince Noah.
"Hey there, stranger. You look nervous—are you scared?"
Nicholas's voice carried a teasing curiosity. His speech was too fast for Richard to fully grasp—far from the slow, deliberate speech of Aron. Richard remained silent, still, blinking slowly to regain composure. His left hand remained at his neck.
"Are you deaf? Or mute?"
Nicholas asked, stepping closer. His features displayed mockery, and a smirk danced on his lips as if he were enjoying himself. Richard stepped back with every step Nicholas took forward—his expression tense, confused, hurt... and maybe even afraid?
Irritated by the boy's reaction, Nicholas reached toward Richard's neck. "Hiding something here?" he asked, mockingly, though he couldn't deny a flicker of curiosity.
Richard's eyes widened in fear and alarm, especially as Nicholas's hand neared his. If he touched the mark, it would be over. His slavery would be exposed, and he'd suffer more than ever.
But something in Richard urged him to act. His heart encouraged him, and his mind agreed. He took another step back and gave voice to his resistance—a soft, almost involuntary shout in his own language:
"No!"
The small shout startled Nicholas. That word—no—caught Noah's attention more than anything. He had been watching with boredom, but now something... interesting... had happened.
Nicholas instinctively pulled his hand back to his chest, eyes widening in shock. Whatever I said… that was too much. Typical Nicholas thought. For some reason, he found Richard's desperate, anxious, fearful, and pained expression... intriguing. Even attractive.
His actions stirred something inside him—his dormant curiosity awoke. Another interest added to his list.
"What... was that?" he muttered, eyes still fixed on Richard. Was he autistic? he wondered, though no answer came. A twisted, amused smile spread across Nicholas's face, and he took another step forward—but was interrupted by the voice of one of the judges.
"Attention, newcomers!" came the booming voice, amplified by a magical orb, echoing throughout the arena.
"Congratulations on passing the written magic exam. In the second test, you'll be required to demonstrate your magical powers in the arena, each of you individually. Those who pass will advance to the group trial..."
The judge continued, but Richard's mind reeled. He could only understand three sentences at best. The judge's tone was different from Aron's—he was a mage from the eastern, magical side of the kingdom. The confusion was clear in Richard's eyes, though he masked it with a still calmness—like a corpse whose heart still beats. His gaze swept across the arena, trying to grasp meaning from the chaotic movements. Nicholas stood beside him, focusing intently on the judge's words.
His green eyes drifted and met a pair of crimson ones—eye contact held for a second, maybe half—but it felt like an eternity for both of them.
The Prince and the Slave.
Noah and Richard.
Unknown emotions surfaced on Noah's face, and even his heart refused to give his mind any clues. Meanwhile, Richard found the word for what he felt:
"Dread."
It would never leave him—as long as he breathed the same air as the highborn. Especially the royal family. Dread would be the companion of his dead heart.
...
Silence filled the arena. Each student had to showcase their strength—whether magical, combat, or mental. The individual trial was to assess a candidate's total potential—power, intelligence, and skill—deciding if they were fit to be students of the academy.
Whispers rippled through the crowd when the judge announced the next contestant—the one with crimson eyes. His firm steps silenced chatter, his crushing aura heralded his power. His clothing exuded regality, and his eyes scanned the arena as if searching for a witness to his might. His expression was sharp, cold. His stance noble, unwavering.
"Now stepping forward: His Highness, Prince of the Kingdom and its Sun, Noah Arthox!"
Noah raised his hand calmly, and flames erupted, covering the arena before compacting into a small, fiery dragon at his command. Jaws dropped. The judges gasped in excitement, praising the glory of the empire. Noah Arthox.
"Amazing! A massive flame compressed into a dragon! Just as expected of the royal family!"
Dragons were a part of Noah's magical identity. With their strength and majesty, they were considered some of the most dangerous creatures. Their fire could melt an icy mountain with a single spark. His cold, confident expression left hearts shaking—in fear, awe, and reverence. Richard's green eyes turned pale. Shock gripped his face. While the heat made everyone sweat, Richard felt warmth—a warmth filled with longing. A warmth he'd been denied. A warmth like thawing frozen fingers after a brutal cold. For some reason, he felt safe. As if that burning fire could melt the ice on his heart—the ice of his former hell.
The small dragon on Noah's palm let out a puff of fire, igniting the arena air into hot oxygen. It let out a soft belch that gave its fire a humorous edge. Noah's sharp features softened slightly, and his gaze caught Richard's mysterious figure. He stepped off the stage with composed steps, leaving everyone even more intimidated—now by his power as well as his presence.
One after another, students performed. Richard watched closely, amazed by many of them—momentarily forgetting his own strange power.
"Nicholas Swan, show us what you've got!" a judge cried. Nicholas grinned, confident, playful, and cocky. His skill was with weapons—dangerous or not, simple or complex. With a motion of his hand, his weapons scattered across the arena wall and reformed anew.
"Weapon manipulation! Fascinating!" the judge exclaimed. Applause erupted. Whispers and excitement buzzed through the arena. Nicholas bowed with a smug grin. His gaze wandered to the blond, filled with challenge and mystery. He was surprised—he didn't expect the boy to have such a gift. Felix's proud smile showed his excitement over Richard's potential.
"Our final examinee: Richard Hoss!"
Such a name sounded strange to the nobles and judges. But the surname Hoss was known—it belonged to the strongest battle mage of the kingdom, the Sorcerer of Light, the Warrior of Rome. The arena filled with whispers—hellish noise to Richard. All eyes turned to him. He was used to being the center of attention, but never like this. He had always been the focus of nobles—as a slave to his former prince, or to his king. He had tasted the cold rot of noble gazes. But this was different.
He swallowed quietly and stepped into the center, his movements awkward though subtly so. Prince Noah and Nicholas didn't take their eyes off him. This mystery—this anomaly. Richard moved his left hand away from his neck and calmly extended it forward. Everyone wondered about his power, his magic.
Suddenly, glass-like fragments formed around his hand. Oxygen and water particles merged and solidified into sharp blades out of nowhere. Richard struggled—his mark still suppressed his magic. But his power was immense—too immense to restrain. The blades grew larger, shocking everyone.
"This is incredible!"
"What kind of power is this?"
"A weapon formed from nothing!"
Gasps filled the arena. Richard's mind gave in, and his frozen heart took over—summoning sand and gravel particles, which gathered beneath him like sparks eager to ignite. Eyes widened. Nicholas let out a whistle. Noah was watching, intrigued. Richard, caught in the moment, lost control.
The weapon exploded—its shards crashing into the judges' protective glass.
A strange silence fell.
"Th-this is remarkable! Deadly magic... but you must learn control!" one judge stammered.
Richard's eyes widened when he saw the shards pierce the judges' shield. He felt like a fool—until he spotted Aron in the crowd, smiling proudly, reassuringly. He made a familiar gesture, one Richard knew well. It seemed to say, That was amazing. I'm proud of you. Richard's face softened, and warmth filled his soul. A smile bloomed—one so radiant, the sun could envy it.
The first trial was over, and break time began. The arena buzzed with murmurs. These were the future students of Kaiven Royal Academy—future pride and protectors of the Empire. Richard sat alone in a corner, analyzing his power. He'd never known he could craft from earth or wield such force. His slavery mark had reacted—that's why his magic exploded. His former master, the Prince of Ice, had forbidden him from using magic. He'd disobeyed. And the consequences of defying his master were severe.
"This will hurt... a lot," Richard muttered quietly, hand on his neck, over the cursed mark.
"Hey, Richard..." came a playful, curious voice. He looked up and frowned—Nicholas stood there, grinning, offering a water bottle.
"Why the frown? Do I look ugly?" Nicholas teased as he sat down beside him with a smile that made Richard uneasy.
"Your power was amazing—intriguing. I liked it," he said. Richard forced a calm smile. "Thank you..."
Nicholas's teal eyes never left him, which made Richard even more nervous. He had lived through rotten years—especially under authority. A single look could make his shackled heart race and nausea rise.
"You're not from this kingdom, are you?" Nicholas asked, analyzing his expressions. Richard frowned further and replied in a quiet, strange tone.
"No... I'm not from this kingdom..."
Nicholas opened the bottle, and without thinking, Richard found himself drinking from it. Nicholas smiled, then asked—this time in a calmer pace, though still playful, "Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Richard was surprised by the new pace but nodded quietly, cautiously watching him. "Great! I'm Nicholas, by the way—son of Count Swan. And you're Richard?"
He extended his hand, eyes scanning Richard's face for any reaction. Richard hesitated, swallowed, then slowly shook his hand.
"Yes... Richard Hoss..."
A magical stone buzzed, signaling the start of the final acceptance test—the group trial. Nicholas stood up. "The final test is about to start," he said calmly. "It's a team match. Let's head to the arena and see our teams." Richard rose after a moment, still translating his words with difficulty. He followed Nicholas toward the board.
Whispers filled the air. Some hoped to be on Noah's team. Others wanted to challenge him. Some even wanted to pair with Richard for his strength. None of the noise helped Richard's mind—it all became a throbbing headache. The final test involved pairing off: two vs. two.
Nicholas and Richard reached the board. Nicholas scanned for his name seriously. Richard, meanwhile, stared at the confusing list—it felt like a wall of symbols. Mountains of letters impossible to climb.
He frowned like a lost child—until Nicholas suddenly shouted,
"I found mine! I'm with... Sarah Os? Who's that?"
He searched his memory for the girl's name. "What about you? Did you find yours?"
Nicholas turned toward Richard, who still looked lost. He grinned.
"You can't read, can you?" His smile widened when the blond shook his head. Nicholas scanned the list again.
"Richard... Richard... ah!" His grin stretched.
"Noah Arthox..."
He whistled, eyes wide.
"Now that... will be very interesting."