Master Zareth unrolled the scroll on his desk with a soft, dry rasp. It smelled of ancient dust and old magic. The text upon it shimmered faintly in afternoon light, as if waking from a long sleep.
He straightened, his sharp hazel gaze sweeping the silent classroom like a physical weight. "First class. First lesson. Shed your preconceptions. In this room, you are not heirs or prodigies. You are students. And you will listen."
A piece of chalk was lifted from the tray without him moving a muscle. It floated to the blackboard and began to write with crisp, precise strokes.
THE UNIFIED WORLD: THE SEVEN KINGDOMS OF ELDRYA.
Master Zareth, began to pace, his voice a low, instructional drone that filled the room. "Eldrya is not a single, monolithic empire. It is a covenant. A unified alliance of seven distinct sovereign realms."
A girl in the middle row, tentatively raised her hand.
"Speak."
"Master, if they are unified... why the constant conflict? Arcane versus Necrotic, Shaman versus Mage... it never ends."
A thin smile touched Zareth's lips. "A pertinent observation. The Seven Kingdoms are siblings. They brawl, they feud over ideology, philosophy, and resources. It is in their nature." He paused, letting the point settle. "But let a true threat rise—one that seeks not advantage, but annihilation—and the feuds are forgotten in a heartbeat. Survival supersedes all doctrine. It is the first and only law of Eldrya."
With a wave of his hand, the chalk erased the title and wrote a new one.
THE HIERARCHY OF POWER.
His voice deepened, taking on a grave, historical tone. "Eldrya is governed by a singular, supreme authority: the Sorcerer Supreme. In our ten-millennia history, only five individuals have borne that title and its burden. The fifth, and current, is Alaric Tsugikuni. His reign began five centuries ago."
From the front row, Razen Silversmith's hand went up.
She stood up, her silver eyes analytical. "Five centuries is beyond even an enhanced sorcerer's prime. How does he maintain the rule?"
A low chuckle escaped Master Zareth. "An excellent question. Lifespan is one factor. But the true reason is the nature of his rule. He does not govern as a dictator, nor as a distant monarch. He rules as the patriarch of a vast, fractious family. He commands absolute authority, but he uses it to bind the kingdoms together, not to subjugate them. His has been the most enduring peace in our recorded history—because it is a peace built on necessity, not conquest."
He raised a finger. "But even a Sorcerer Supreme cannot administer a world alone. Thus, power is delegated to the Seven Great Clans."
He leaned on his desk, his gaze traveling across the faces of his students, lingering for a heartbeat on specific ones. " You know the names. You carry the blood."
"The Hirata Clan. Absolute sovereignty over the Arcane Kingdom."
Ronin's bored slouch vanished. He sat up, his attention laser-focused.
"The Silversmith Clan. Sovereigns of the Mage and Magis Kingdom."
Razen gave a slight, acknowledging nod.
"The Ashina Clan. Authority over the Alchemical Kingdom."
"The Veilweaver Clan. Authority over the Enchanters."
Kaira smirked, a flicker of pride in her green eyes.
"The Umbra Clan. Rules over the Diviners."
A few heads turned subtly toward the silent, twilight-haired Dain.
"The Lich Lords. Not a single bloodline, but the collective rulership of the Kingdom of Necromancers."
"And the Itsukisuji Clan. Sovereignty of the Shamanic Kingdom."
With another gesture, the board cleared and filled with a new heading.
CLASSIFICATION: BLOOD, NOT BIGOTRY.
Master Zareth's voice dropped, becoming dangerously calm. "You will think this next part is about prejudice. It is not. It is about biology. The clans are classified into three tiers: Royal Bloodlines, the Seven you just heard. Noble Clans—Isshin, Kanimitsu, Kurosawa—who rule specific districts under the Great Clans. And Common Families, the citizens with no inherent rulership."
"That's—" Ronin shot to his feet, his chair shrieking against the stone. His jaw was tight, not angry so much as strained.
"You label people the moment they're born. Decide their ceiling before they even touch Arcane Energy. Tell me how that doesn't rot everything it touches."
Master Zareth didn't flinch. He walked to Ronin's desk and tapped a single, cold finger against the boy's forehead. "Righteous rage," Master Zareth said quietly, "is a luxury afforded only to those strong enough to survive its consequences, Hirata. Save it. The categorization is not based on worth, but on genetic reality. It is called the 'Genetic Override Phenomenon'. To understand it, you must first understand 'Blood Innates'."
He waved his hand. A complex, three-dimensional hologram of a DNA helix materialized above his desk. A new, radiant gene strand—pulsing with latent, terrifying power—appeared beside it. In the simulation, the radiant strand aggressively assimilated a section of common DNA, overwriting it.
"Blood Innates are clan-exclusive, ancestral powers, passed down through lineage. The genes of a Royal Bloodline are so potent, so dominant, that they biologically override lesser magical gene expressions. Noble blood has moderate potency. Common blood has little to no. This is a fact of our world's fabric, as real as gravity. This is the biological basis for the hierarchy. It was cataloged for awareness, for understanding the natural order of magical potential. It is not a justification for cruelty..."
His eyes hardened. "...though the weak-minded and the cruel have always used such facts to justify their biases. This knowledge has, throughout history, been twisted into a justification for prejudice and cruelty. The system intended to describe a reality has been used to enforce an unjust one. And—"
BRRRRIIINNNGGG!
The academy bell rang, a sharp, metallic sound that cut through the lecture.
Master Zareth sighed, a strangely knowing smile touching his lips. "Ah. Time's up."
Ronin blinked. "Time for what?"
"For theory to end," Master Zareth said, his voice dropping to a thrilling, ominous whisper. "And for practice to begin. Your first trial commences in ten minutes on the central training grounds. Do not be late. And Hirata?"
He met Ronin's eyes. "Buckle up."
In a swirl of dissipating dark smoke that left behind the scent of ozone and cold ashes, Master Zareth vanished.
***
The lesson was over.
The immense, crushing architecture of their world's power had been laid bare.
Now, the comforting veil of theory was torn away.
The air itself seemed heavier as they rose from their seats—Arcane Energy stirring, restless, like something aware it was about to be tested. Ronin felt it coil beneath his skin, a familiar pressure in his chest, no longer theoretical. No longer safe.
The clock was ticking.