The Magic Academy of Aerindale stood like a giant fortress of knowledge and power. Tall white towers pierced the sky, glowing runes carved into their walls. For Ethan, it felt like stepping into another world.
Students filled the courtyard—nobles in elegant robes, warriors with polished weapons, mages surrounded by floating spell circles. Every one of them carried confidence.
Ethan felt the weight of countless eyes on him.
"That's him," someone whispered.
"The one with the Fate Mark."
Lyria walked beside Ethan, calm but alert. She stayed close, sensing danger in unfamiliar faces.
Inside the main hall, a crystal orb floated above the stage, measuring mana and ability. One by one, students stepped forward, showing off their talents. Flames roared. Ice cracked. Lightning danced.
Then it was Ethan's turn.
He placed his hand on the crystal.
The orb shook violently—then went dark.
Gasps echoed.
"No mana reading?" a student laughed.
"Is this a joke?"
Before the mockery could grow louder, Master Alaric raised his hand. "Silence. His power does not follow normal rules."
Ethan stepped back, his jaw tight. He had expected this. Still, it hurt.
Training began that same day.
Ethan struggled to control the power inside him. Every attempt caused pain. His body wasn't ready, but his will refused to give up. While others rested, he trained alone—running, striking, falling, standing again.
At night, Lyria found him bruised and exhausted.
"You don't have to push this hard," she said softly.
Ethan shook his head. "If I can't control this power… it'll hurt people."
Something in his determination moved her.
The next morning, during combat practice, a noble student named Raven stepped forward.
"I'll test the famous Fate Mark," he said with a cold smile.
Ethan met his gaze.
The academy watched.
The magic academy arc had begun—and so had the trials that would shape a hero.