Birds sang above, flowers swayed like dancers beneath the morning light, and the day seemed carved by heaven's hand itself. The towering walls of the Radiant Kingdom rose like mountains of white stone, crowned with banners that flapped in the breeze. A massive golden gate, radiant beneath the sun, opened wide.
Althea the Luminant, her soldiers, and the 'weak' boy named Naro strode forward together. Their entry felt heavenly, as though heroes were returning home.
"Woah… this place is beautiful," Naro whispered in awe, his eyes widening like an innocent child beholding paradise for the first time.
Inside, the city unfurled like a dream: beautiful marble houses lined in perfect symmetry, streets so clean they shined, fountains spouting crystal clear water into the air as white doves flew overhead. It was as though they had stepped into a fragment of heaven itself.
One soldier laughed warmly. "Hehe, kid—you're gonna be staying here from now on."
Naro smiled, his eyes sparkling with excitement. But within, there was nothing. To him, whether it was the damp loneliness of a forest or the beauty of this kingdom, all of it was the same: scenery. Beautiful, yes—but empty. His heart was a void long since his transmission to this realm, emotions numbed and chained by centuries of experience. He had not been born like this—he had learned. Learned to suppress all feelings.
Still, even a painted mask has its uses. And Naro's masks will open every door in this city.
They soon arrived at their destination—the Knight's Academy.
It stood like a jewel within the kingdom, surrounded off by immense golden fences, gleaming like sunlight made solid. The academy grounds spread over a vast portion of the city. Towers of white marble stretched into the sky, gardens glowed with carefully pruned trees, and massive arenas opened like coliseums from the old world. It's structure slightly resembled universities from back in earth.
To a youth, it was a dream made real. To Naro, it was merely a stage upon which he would set his next play.
Althea's duty called her elsewhere. She placed a sealed letter of recommendation in Naro's hands, her voice calm yet kind. "This is all I can do. The rest is on you to prove your worth." Then, with the light of her Pegasus wings shinning, she departed with her escort toward the king's castle.
The academy was not easy to enter. It was the dream of thousands, a fortress of talent where only the most gifted were allowed within its walls. Many tried, most failed. For the common, it was unattainable.
Naro stared at the gates. "To think… in my last life, I never even stepped foot here. Yet now, here I stand. And all it took was a few tears and the heart of a soft princess." He almost chuckled, but restrained himself, letting his face remain composed.
Escorted by a guard, he entered. Students whispered immediately.
"Who's that?"
"It's not even the entrances's exams season…"
"Did he sneak in?"
"Hmph. Probably some spoiled brat."
Naro ignored their gazes and whispers.
The air shifted suddenly. From deep within the academy, a heavy presence showed. The principal had emerged.
An elderly woman with hair the color of ash, her wrinkled face marked with the wisdom of countless years. Though age weighed on her, her aura spoke otherwise: a rank 4 Nyx user, sharp and immovable, a wall of sheer will. Her eyes narrowed as they fell on Naro.
"What brings you here?" she asked, voice edged like a blade.
Naro bowed his head lightly, then stepped forward with surprising confidence for someone his age. He presented the recommendation letter. "I am here by order of Princess Althea Luminant."
The woman studied the paper carefully, her lips tightening. Then, with a faint scoff, she tore it in two, letting the fragments scatter to the wind.
"This means nothing," she said flatly.
Many would falter. Naro did not. His gaze remained unyielding, his voice steady. "Then examine me as you wish. Put me through whatever trial you deem fit."
Naro's main reason to entered the kingdom was the academy, Behind that calm expression, his thoughts spun with precision. The academy is his gateway. Within its walls lies everything he needs—the trust of the kingdom's elite, the pawns he must collect, and above all… Thalgor. The one who holds the Conqueror's Sun Nyx; which he fought for in his previous life. And finally, Lloyd… whom Naro knew is still a trainee here.. The boy who once slew Dracula himself in his previous life. He will be useful.
His lips almost curved into a smile as his mind sank deeper into schemes.
And beneath it all… the real reason why Naro came here in the first place; The mighty Light Travel Nyx. A relic sealed in the depths of this academy, this nyx is the rarest movement based nyx within the mortal realm, a rank 6 nyx that can teleport it's user to whenever they wished upon this world.. with just a single thought.
The Light Travel Nyx's resting place was chosen with care: the academy, a fortress of discipline, guarded more fiercely than even the kingdom's gates. With Thalgor himself residing within its walls. So it is considered one of the most secure places within the kingdom.
"Follow me," the principal said hurriedly. Her voice carried authority, and Naro obeyed without hesitation.
They walked deeper into the academy's heart, where the ceilings rose like cathedral vaults and walls shined with veins of gold woven into black stone. The ground beneath their feet was a flow of black-and-gold patterns, each step echoing solemnly through the vast halls. Statues of heroes past stood guard on either side—made of marble… so lifelike it seemed as if they could draw their blades at any moment. Every detail of the architecture radiated grandeur, a silent reminder that this place was not merely a school, but a sanctum of legends.
After a long walk, they halted before a towering white door engraved with golden runes. The principal rapped firmly. Knock, knock.
The door opened.
And there he stood.
A man of towering height, broad-shouldered and carved in the likeness of war itself. Golden hair, long and flowing, framed a face of strong nobility; a full beard and straight jawline. His brows were thick, his jaw sharp as if hewn by divine hands, and his fiery eyes blazed with both warmth and unyielding strength. His elegant garments were cut to perfection, yet when his arms crossed, the sheer power of his forearms—dazzled with muscle and scarred with memory—spoke of battles fought and won. His very presence filled the air, commanding respect as naturally as the sun commands light.
This was no ordinary man. This was the indomitable shield of the Radiant Kingdom, the legendary Hero under the Sun—Thalgor.
The principal bowed slightly, her tone respectful as she explained Naro's situation before quietly withdrawing, leaving the boy alone before the giant of a man.
Naro looked up, eyes wide with admiration, a perfect mask of awe. Yet beneath that illusion, his heart surged with bloodlust. To him, Thalgor was not a hero, not an idol, not even a man—merely an obstacle. A wall of flesh and steel that stood between him and the sacred Nyx he sought. Still, he knew walls could be climbed, broken, or deceived. And so he resolved to coil himself like a serpent at Thalgor's feet, waiting for the moment to strike.
The legendary hero finally spoke, his voice deep and steady, like thunder rolling through distant mountains.
"So… you are the one Althea saw fit to bring here." His words were neither praise nor disdain, but judgment—each word was like a hammer striking an anvil. "Tell me, child… do you seek strength for glory? For pride? For vengeance?"
Naro raised his head, his eyes narrowing into a gaze of cold determination. His voice cut through the air, steady and sharp, "I want to grow stronger—far stronger. I want revenge for the death of my parents… I will kill that bastard, Dracula!"
For a brief moment, silence lingered. Then Thalgor's lips curved into something between approval and challenge. His fiery gaze burned brighter as he said, "Come. Let me test your worthiness."
The Hero under the Sun turned and led Naro through the academy's grand halls until they reached an immense indoor training arena. The ceilings rose high like the inside of a cathedral, banners of radiant gold draping the stone walls. The polished black-and-gold floor glimmered under the torchlight, reflecting the countless scars from its past battles.
Thalgor's voice thundered through the chamber as he turned to face Naro. "The time for entrance exams has passed. So I will test you myself. Prove your worth to me."
His words alone were enough to shake most young men. To be examined by Thalgor himself—the Hero, the legend, the wall of flame that defended the kingdom? For anyone else, it would have been a nightmare. But Naro stood calm, expression like still water, his heart a void. He had no fear, no hesitation. Only a goal. Only the next step in his design.
Thalgor planted his heel against the floor, the sound like thunder. "The rules are simple: I will attack you. All you must do is avoid my strikes for one minute. Endure, and you pass."
One minute. To most, those two words meant certain failure. To stand before a monster like Thalgor and survive, even without striking back, was beyond daunting. But in Thalgor's mind, this was not the true trial. He intended to go easy on the boy, testing spirit rather than skill. What mattered to him was not survival, but how Naro acted when facing overwhelming pressure.
By now, word of the test had spread through the academy. Students began to gather, filling the balconies and lining the arena edges. Among them were three names that would one day be etched in history: Lloyd, Elizabeth, and Darian.
Mockery intensified through the crowd.
"This idiot's going to die!" one laughed.
"He won't last ten seconds," another sneered.
Yet not all shared their offense. Elizabeth and Darian exchanged uneasy glances, their faces filled with concern. And Lloyd—quiet, calculating Lloyd—stood apart, his gaze sharp and silent.
Thalgor's voice cut through the noise. "Here I go."
With that, he reached behind him and drew forth his weapon. The air itself seemed to shift as metal scraped against metal, the sound heavy and dreadful.
The weapon was huge—a forked halberd, red like fresh blood, it had a sinister glow. Nearly as tall as Thalgor himself, it radiated a vicious aura that sent chills crawling down the spines of even the spectators.
Gasps erupted from the crowd. Everyone knew of it—the Bloodfork nyx of Dracula.
A weapon of the blood path, cursed and feared, yet wielded now by a hero. Thalgor had torn it from Dracula's hands after defeating him, reclaiming it as a weapon of justice. To many, it was a grim irony: fire against fire, corruption against corruption. But in Thalgor's hands, it had become a symbol of defiance, a promise that even darkness itself could be turned against evil.
The legendary hero lowered the fork, its prongs scraping sparks against the floor, and his aura flared—warm and searing, like standing beneath the afternoon sun.