The South-Land Royal Capital.
Being the epicenter of the South-Land, the capital thrived with life.
Its massive streets bustled with people, beast-pulled carriages, and the hum of magic. Towering buildings stretched toward the sky, reflecting the sun's golden light. At roughly 250 square kilometers, it held millions of residents of every rank, each moving with purpose or ambition.
Among its famed sites were the Royal Castle, home to the ruling monarchy and their families, and the Royal Army Headquarters, the hub of the nation's military might, including its legendary Magic Knights Branch.
Entry to the city was far from simple. At one of the eight sprawling gates, a crowd of merchants, travelers, and hopeful citizens waited as guards meticulously checked every passerby.
"Next!" a guard barked, signaling a caravan ahead to move along.
Nearby, a young woman fumbled nervously through her handbag.
"Where is it? Frank will kill me if I lose it," She muttered, finally spotting the cash and document hidden among her makeup. Relief washed over her—just as a scrawny man snatched the bag and bolted.
"No! Help! Thief!" She cried out.
Two guards sprang into action.
But with a grin, the thief's legs morphed into the strong limbs of a deer, propelling him forward with impossible speed.
"Damn." One of the guards grumbled as the gap between them and the thief widened—but before he could escape, a muscular forearm collided with his face, spinning him violently before he dropped to the ground, unconscious.
A figure stood over the fallen thief, catching the bag before it hit the ground. "Here, officers," He said casually, holding the bag as the guards stopped in front of him.
Their bodies stiffened once they realized that the figure was a boy who looked… too mature for his age.
Now standing at 5'8" and 16 years old, Dom wore a sleeveless blue-black hoodie, jeans, and old but sharp sneakers. Even under the hoodie, his lean, trained physique spoke of years of intense training.
He rubbed the long scar on his left cheek, confused by the shock on the guards' faces, before noticing the line had moved forward.
"Shit," Dom muttered, quickly handing the bag to the female guard before rushing to reclaim his spot in line.
"Something tells me that boy's here to join the knights," The male guard muttered, eyeing Dom as he argued with someone further down the line, then glancing back at the motionless thief.
"Seriously… these recruits are getting more monstrous every year," He added, shaking his head. His gaze then flicked to the female guard, who hadn't taken her eyes off Dom.
He narrowed his eyes at her before realization dawned. "Are you… blushing?" He asked.
She quickly looked away, flustered, clearing her throat loudly. "Let's just get this guy into custody," She said, shoving the bag into her partner and conjuring a puff of pink clouds that lifted the thief's body effortlessly.
"Oh no… we need to talk about this pedophile vibe you've got going on," The male guard teased, grinning.
"Shut up," She snapped, storming away with the thief while the male guard chuckled as he returned the bag to its rightful owner.
Fifteen minutes later…
Dom reached the front of the line. As he dropped his bag for inspection by some guards, a tired-looking official eyed him critically.
"You mean to tell me your folks let a kid like you travel all the way here alone?" He said.
"Unfortunately," Dom sighed, remembering Pops' words just before his three-day journey:
< "I only had enough saved for one trip, so you're on your own. Just stay away from sketchy-looking men or women, and you'll be fine… mostly." >
Dom smirked at the dismissive yet still caring advice just as the official stamped his pass. "Welcome to the Royal Capital, kid." He said, handing the pass back. "Try not to get lost."
Dom grinned as he tucked the pass safely away, excitement bubbling as he moved past the checkpoint.
Once he stepped through the gates, his grin widened at the scenery before him.
Horses clattered over cobblestone, merchants shouted their wares, and citizens strolled casually, their auras faintly glowing.
Dom inhaled the unfamiliar scents, his eyes darting between towering structures.
"I'm finally here," He whispered, pulling off his hood to reveal his slick temp-fade haircut.
The sudden reveal of his scarred, matured face drew a few uneasy stares from passersby, but he ignored them as he pulled out an admission letter. He stopped a man to ask for directions.
Half an hour later, he wandered through the campus grounds of the Royal Knight Academy, taking in the tall, ornate buildings. After dropping his bags, he decided to explore the grounds since he still had a few hours before the entrance ceremony.
Eventually, he found himself in front of a monument. The elegant marble masterpieces detailing the physical appearance of the eight heroes who put an end to the war and became the origin of the Royal Magic Knights--the Monarch.
As his gaze drifted between each statue, their bodies as tall and proud as their legend, he froze at one in particular.
A huge man, grinning proudly as he held up his flaming fists.
Dom clenched his fists in excitement as the memory sparked. Despite it being over six years ago, he vividly remembered interacting with that man.
His attention was then drawn by a laugh. Nearby, young mages laughed and socialized, each in their own world.
Dom's gaze swept across them, calculating. So these are the guys I'm up against. Heh… bring it on, He thought, his grin widening menacingly, an intimidating sight that made a nearby boy instinctively step back, unease written all over him.
A sudden cough from behind then pulled Dom out of his thoughts. He turned to see a pompous-looking mage in expensive, ornate clothes sneering down at him, an equally cocky boy hovering nearby.
"Move aside, commoner," The pompous boy said, his tone dripping with condescension.
Dom's smile vanished as he glanced between his boy and his lackey. Great. Another Matt, He thought with a sigh, then shrugged. "Sure, dude. Whatever."
He started to walk away.
"Wait." The boy's voice snapped Dom's attention back. "Didn't your parents teach you any manners? You're supposed to bow to someone of higher status than you."
Dom raised a brow. "Bro… I don't even know who you are." He said.
The boy's nostrils flared, and his fists clenched as if Dom's words were a personal attack.
"Have you been living under a rock?" The lackey stepped forward, glaring. "He's Roger Reginald, third son of the Reginald Noble Family." He waved his hand grandly. "One of the four Great Noble Houses in all of South-Land."
"And I don't care," Dom said dismissively, waving his hand.
Roger's brow twitched in irritation.
Dom noticed and sighed heavily. "Look, I just got here after a long trip. I'm tired. I just want to attend this ceremony and get some sleep. We can deal with… whatever this is later, okay? Uh…"
"Roger Reginald!" The lackey spat, his anger boiling over.
Dom snapped his fingers. "Yeah, that. So… bye." He awkwardly waved his hand and turned away again.
Roger's gaze darkened, the air trembling as green mana bled out of his body. "You, lowly peasant," He growled, raising a hand.
Dom stopped, turning halfway, his threatening blue eyes already watching Roger's movements, his body primed to react-- just as a hand shot out and grabbed Roger's wrist.
They all turned to find a new face-- a strict-looking teen with ivory skin and silky black hair falling in a curtain fringe. His serious piercing eyes locked onto Roger immediately.
"Unhand me," Roger demanded, struggling to pull away—but the boy's grip was firm.
Dom's glowing gaze drifted slightly lower, noting the teen's simple, formal attire: a crisp white shirt tucked neatly into black pants and polished cover shoes completing the look.
"It's against regulations to fight on unauthorized grounds," The teen said, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable authority.
Roger grunted loudly, straining, eyes widening as he tried again—but failed to break free.
"Do you want to get arrested for attacking a great noble? Let him go!" The lackey demanded—but flinched instantly under the teen's glowing violet eyes.
"As long as he understands that rules must be followed," The teen replied, squeezing Roger's wrist hard enough to make him wince.
Roger's earlier aggression faded immediately. "Okay. I understand… now unhand me," He muttered.
The teen stared at him for a moment, then released his grip. Roger wrenched his arm free with a hiss, massaging his wrist as his lackey hovered anxiously.
Dom's glowing eyes faded, his battle-trained nerves settling as he folded his arms, smirking at them.
He didn't even use mana… He thought with a smirk at Roger. And that noble couldn't do a thing. He turned back to the teen, his grin widening. This guy might actually be fun.
Once he confirmed that Roger had stopped, the teen finally turned his attention to Dom, his expression just as stern. "And you…"
"Me?" Dom asked, raising a brow.
The teen stepped forward, his height slightly taller than Dom's. "Even though you didn't start the fight, you instigated it. So you're also at fault." He said.
Dom paused, blinking at him. Then, with a loud slap to his forehead, he muttered, "A stickler for rules. Not fun."
The teen raised a brow, clearly confused by Dom's reaction.
Before anything else could happen, a uniformed soldier noticed them and approached. "Recruits! Quit chatting and join the others! The ceremony's about to start!"
The sudden command broke the tension.
Both Dom and the teen glanced at each other one last time, their mutual wariness unspoken but unmistakable.
With an awkward but tense energy, they followed the crowd toward the Welcome Ceremony, careful to give each other plenty of space.