The Upper Realm Academy loomed ahead like a fortress carved from the heavens themselves. White marble towers rose impossibly high, their spires tipped with glimmering runes that shimmered under the morning sun. The vast courtyard spread outward, paved in polished stone that reflected the banners of a dozen noble clans, each emblazoned with its crest: the flame of Ignis, the spiral of Veyar, the icy shard of Aster, the hammer of Dromir.
For all its beauty, the place was built to intimidate.
Kairo and Igron stepped through the great iron-wrought gates, the air shifting as though the academy itself had turned its gaze upon them. Students paused mid-conversation, laughter fading to murmurs as heads turned.
"Those are the ones… the Eryndor strays."
"They say they fought a Grade Two monster."
"Outsiders shouldn't be admitted so easily…"
The whispers were sharp, deliberate — words meant to cut.
Igron smirked, sliding his hands into his pockets as if the stares amused him. Kairo, pale and silent, let his crimson eyes sweep across the courtyard. His expression betrayed nothing, yet the weight of his gaze was enough to silence those who held it too long.
From the steps of the main hall, a small cluster of nobles made no effort to hide their disdain. At their center stood Sukai of the Ignis Clan, his hair catching the sun like burning embers. He crossed his arms, voice carrying easily across the courtyard.
"So the rumors were true," Sukai said, his tone casual but edged with challenge. "Eryndor's house pets found their way here."
A few of his followers chuckled, while others waited to see how the newcomers would respond.
Igron tilted his head lazily, his smirk widening. "Funny. I thought I smelled something burning. Guess it was just your ego."
The courtyard rippled with muffled laughter, gasps, and sharp intakes of breath. Sukai's smile tightened, but he didn't reply immediately. Instead, his fiery gaze slid to Kairo.
Kairo met his eyes, silent. The crimson in his stare did not waver, did not blink — it simply existed, as unyielding as stone. Sukai's lips curled faintly, but this time it was he who looked away first, brushing past with his entourage.
"Tch," Igron muttered under his breath. "Not so bold up close, huh?"
Before the tension could thicken further, a sharp voice cut through the courtyard.
"That is enough."
A faculty member in silver-trimmed robes descended the stairs, staff in hand, his eyes stern but measured. "This is the academy. Rivalries will be decided within its halls, not at its gates." He gestured to Kairo and Igron. "You are expected. Follow me. The rest of you — to your lectures."
The crowd dispersed reluctantly, though whispers lingered in the air like smoke. Kairo and Igron followed, stepping into the shadow of the grand hall.
Yet even as they walked, Kairo felt the weight of countless eyes pressing into his back. The academy had seen many heirs, many rivals. But this was different. He and Igron were not of noble birth, not scions of legacy.
They were the anomaly. The fracture in tradition.
And everyone was watching to see if they would break.