The gates of the Academy loomed like cold stone sentinels.
Even before I stepped inside, I felt the weight of its history pressing on my shoulders.
Steel. Honor. Blood.
Every boy here had come with dreams of glory.
I came with a sword in my hand and fire in my veins.
The first day was always the hardest.
The instructors didn't care about your name.
They cared about your blade.
Your endurance.
Your willingness to break-and keep fighting.
I met Merlik first. Sharp eyes, quick tongue, loyalty in his veins.
Then Melken-reckless, fearless, the kind who throws himself into chaos without thought.
And Me... quiet, calculating, always watching.
We became more than allies-we became a family forged by steel.
But the Academy had its shadows.
Some instructors resented me for my father's reputation.
"Ardent's son," they'd hiss.
"Privileged. Taught to swing a sword before he could even walk."
I ignored them.
Let their whispers fall into the wind.
Because in this place, survival wasn't earned with words.
It was earned with blood.
Training
Days bled into nights.
Sleep was a luxury. Food was earned with every strike.
We sparred endlessly, until fingers bled, muscles tore, and pride shattered.
I learned to anticipate strikes, to read a foe before he even moved.
Every lesson was a weapon.
Every scar was a story.
Merlik joked that I slept with a sword in my hands. Melken argued that pain was temporary. And I... I just watched, always watching, as if measuring our worth against something unseen
The First Mission
We were eighteen when the first mission came.
A patrol, they said.
"Simple reconnaissance," they promised.
But the world never keeps its promises.
The enemy knew we were coming.
They had waited.
Fifty soldiers against four.
The first clash of steel felt like the world splitting open.
Father's lessons screamed through my arms.
Every strike, every block, every step was survival.
And yet... it wasn't enough.
Merlik fell first.
Melken next, screaming as he covered me.
And Just like That ... my friend, my brother, my family...
Gone.
I ran.
Through blood, smoke, and the screams that would haunt me forever.
The Academy had taught me to fight.
It hadn't taught me how to mourn.
Aftermath
I spent years haunted by that day.
Every shadow whispered their names.
Every sword I drew felt heavier.
And then, whispers came from the past.
From the teacher... from the one I thought was dead.
He had watched.
He had waited.
He had a plan.
A plan in which I was always the target.
I would learn later... that even friends were not always what they seemed.
Trust was a luxury I could not afford.
And the world... the world had only begun to show me its teeth.