The first light of dawn spilled across the jagged peaks of the Ethereal Range, painting the stone halls of the Heavenly Blade Sect Academy in hues of gold and crimson. The academy stirred to life—bells tolled in deep, resonant tones, students poured into the courtyards in neat formations, and the sharp clash of steel against steel rang out like a chorus to the morning.
Zeref Ying stood silently at the edge of the training grounds, his posture calm, his eyes cold and assessing. Though cloaked in the uniform provided to new initiates—plain white robes trimmed with blue—he seemed to carry himself with a presence that did not belong to a beginner.
All around him, young nobles stretched, sharpened their blades, and boasted of family legacies. The Heavenly Blade Sect was not merely a school; it was the crucible where the future pillars of Imperium Astrae would be forged.
"Form ranks!" a booming voice cut across the grounds.
The instructor was a mountain of a man, clad in dark armor lined with golden runes. His beard was streaked with silver, his scarred face a testament to countless battles. His name, as Zeref would later learn, was Instructor Liang Kaifeng, a veteran warrior whose blade had carved peace across three provinces.
"Today, you begin your training. You are sons and daughters of noble houses, heirs to titles and lands—but in this place, none of that matters. The sword does not care for your name. Power recognizes only power. If you cannot rise, you will be broken."
The courtyard fell into silence. Students straightened their backs, determination burning in their eyes.
"Pairs!" Liang Kaifeng barked.
In seconds, the grounds transformed into sparring pits. Zeref observed quietly, his gaze flicking across the field. Some students were precise, their strikes clean and practiced. Others swung their blades with too much pride, too little discipline.
"You."
The command was sharp. Zeref turned to find Instructor Liang pointing directly at him.
"Step forward. You'll face… him."
A broad-shouldered youth with golden hair stepped into the circle. His robes were embroidered with the crest of the House of Huanglong, one of the most prestigious lineages of the empire. A murmur rippled through the crowd.
"That's Huang Darius…" someone whispered.
"Heir of the Sunfire Blade… poor new kid…"
Zeref said nothing. His face remained unreadable as he drew the training sword offered to him—a plain steel blade without aura, without ornament. Darius grinned arrogantly, spinning his weapon in a flourish that drew appreciative nods from onlookers.
"You must be the one without a house," Darius sneered. "Let me teach you your place."
The clash began with a roar. Darius lunged forward, his strikes quick and heavy, each swing carrying the confidence of one who had always dominated lesser opponents. The crowd cheered as his blade crashed against Zeref's.
But Zeref did not falter.
His movements were minimal, almost lazy, yet precise. He shifted his stance by fractions, parried effortlessly, and allowed each strike to glance harmlessly aside. His eyes were calm, detached, studying—not struggling.
Darius snarled, his attacks growing more ferocious. Sparks flew as steel kissed steel, echoing across the courtyard. Yet no matter how fast or brutal his assault, Zeref remained untouched.
Then, with a single, almost casual twist, Zeref disarmed him.
The training sword flew from Darius's grip, clattering onto the stones. The silence that followed was deafening. Students gaped, some unable to comprehend what they had just seen. Darius, heir of Huanglong, defeated in moments by a nameless boy.
Instructor Liang's sharp eyes narrowed, but his face betrayed nothing.
Zeref lowered his blade. His expression did not gloat, nor did it mock. He simply stepped back, as though the outcome had been inevitable.
"Enough!" Liang Kaifeng barked. "Training continues. Strength is earned, not inherited. Remember that."
The murmurs began instantly.
"Who is he?"
"No house, yet he bested Darius…"
"His technique… it wasn't ordinary…"
Zeref ignored them all. He had not come here for recognition. The less attention he drew, the better. Yet he knew fate had other plans—the shadows of his past could not remain hidden forever.
By midday, the students dispersed for lectures and scroll studies. Zeref walked the quieter paths of the academy, his hands tucked into his sleeves, his thoughts distant. The wind carried the scent of pine and old stone, the murmurs of students drifting faintly from open courtyards.
Everywhere he looked, the academy exuded both grandeur and weight. Ancient statues of warriors lined the walkways, their stone eyes stern and unyielding. Banners hung from high towers, rippling with the insignia of the Heavenly Blade Sect. And beyond, the mountains stretched endlessly, their peaks shrouded in clouds, as though guarding secrets no mortal was meant to know.
Zeref paused, his gaze lingering on the horizon. Somewhere beyond these lands, the fragments of Aetherion still pulsed, waiting. He could feel it, faint but undeniable.
"Enjoying the view?"
It was Kairos Jin, the boy he had met the day before. He carried a bundle of scrolls under one arm, a grin on his face. "Not bad for your first morning, huh? You already caused a stir."
Zeref gave the faintest of smiles. "Unintentional."
"Yeah, well, that's how legends usually start," Kairos laughed, then lowered his voice. "Careful, though. You humiliated Huang Darius. His family has a long memory, and they don't forgive easily."
Zeref said nothing. He needed no warning—he had already sensed the venom in Darius's glare when he was defeated. Such grudges were inevitable.
As the afternoon waned, students gathered once more in the grand hall for their induction. The masters of the academy stood on a raised dais, their robes heavy with embroidered constellations. Each bore an aura so vast and suffocating that even the proudest noble heirs bowed their heads instinctively.
The eldest among them, Grandmaster Xuan Aurelius, spoke in a voice that carried the weight of centuries.
"You have entered the Heavenly Blade Sect Academy not as children of privilege, but as seekers of power. Here, you will learn the truth—that strength alone shapes destiny. The road ahead will test your body, mind, and spirit. Some of you will rise. Some will break. All will be judged by your blade."
The students repeated the creed after him, their voices rising like thunder beneath the vaulted ceiling.
Zeref stood among them, silent, his eyes shadowed. To him, this creed was not new—it was a truth he had known far longer than anyone else here.
As the ceremony ended, lanterns flickered to life, casting long shadows across the academy's ancient stones. The students dispersed to their quarters, laughter and chatter echoing faintly.
But Zeref lingered.
Unseen, from the far side of the courtyard, a pair of eyes watched him.
The figure stood cloaked in shadow, half-hidden beneath the arch of an old stone gate. Their gaze was sharp, unyielding, studying Zeref with an intensity that pierced the night. The flicker of a lantern briefly illuminated the curve of their lips, the sharp line of their jaw—but nothing more.
They did not step forward. They did not speak. They only watched, silent as the stars above.
Zeref felt a faint prickle at the back of his neck, the sense of being observed. He turned, his gaze sweeping the courtyard. Nothing. Only the swaying lanterns, the whispering wind.
Yet the shadow remained. Waiting. Watching.
The first thread of destiny had been pulled, and neither of them could yet see the tapestry it would weave.
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To be continued...