Zavier shifted uneasily, his body still foreign yet instinctively familiar. The weight of his new wings pressed against him like a constant reminder of what he had become. A sigh escaped his lips.
"I thought I'd have time to ease into this… but who would've guessed the final battle of the Four Seasons would be broadcast to the entire universe? Now I've basically painted a target on my back for challengers, the envious, and every random troublemaker looking to prove something."
He ran a clawed hand through his hair, his expression darkening.
"And who is this mysterious 'C'? Why are they so interested in me?"
A voice, soft yet resonant, broke through his thoughts."What has you thinking so hard?"
Zavier snapped his head around, startled. A boy stood in the room, shorter in stature, with sharp gray eyes and spiked hair. A faint halo glowed above his head, and he wore the Academy's sleek white uniform with effortless grace.
Zavier tensed. "And… who are you?"
The boy chuckled lightly."Relax. I'm not here to fight. Quite the opposite, actually—I'm curious about you."
A chill traced down Zavier's spine. "Curious…? Great. Just what I needed. Is he—no, don't jump to conclusions…"
The boy's smile lingered as he spoke."Kalex Dar Molour. Divinekin. My purpose is simple: I wanted to see for myself the one who survived the Four Seasons."
Zavier let out a strained laugh. "Can't believe I made it out myself."
Kalex turned toward the doorway. His body shimmered, breaking apart into radiant shards of light. Just before fading, his voice echoed:"We'll be seeing a lot of each other, Zavier Vel Drakaryn."
Silence returned. Zavier collapsed backward onto the bed, exhaling sharply. His thoughts churned, refusing to settle.
"I'm not human anymore… every day, the dragon in me feels more deeply etched into my bones. Am I going to start hoarding gold and treasures like some crazed cliché?"
He shook the image away with a groan, then turned to new worries.
"Instructor Maerov—what kind of eccentric lunatic throws a power demonstration into the very first class? What if something had gone wrong? And this stalker 'C'… seriously, this is giving police-report energy. Wait—do they even have police in space?"
He sighed again, exhaustion pulling at him.
"There's still so much I don't know…"
With that thought, his eyes drifted closed, sleep finally claiming him.
...
The bell tolled, resonating through the walls of the academy — a low, thrumming chime that cut through sleep like a blade. With no true night or day in this place, it was the only rhythm students had to follow.
Zavier stirred, his body still heavy, his mind sluggish. Freshening up, he stepped into the wide hallways, the air thick with murmurs and shifting gazes.
Some eyes lingered with open admiration.
"That's him, the one who endured the Four Seasons…""He looks so normal… doesn't seem like the monster they say he fought like."
Others dripped with envy.
"He's only here because of that damned tree's blessing.""If I had that buff, I'd already be beyond him."
And then, the occasional sneer.
"Dragons… they always think they're above the rest.""Give it time, he'll crash. They always do."
Zavier lowered his gaze, keeping silent. He felt the weight of every word but forced his steps steady until he reached the classroom. Choosing a seat at the back, he finally allowed himself to relax — until a sudden voice rang inside his head.
"Hey!! How was your first day?"
Zavier jolted upright, eyes darting around the room.
"No need to panic," the voice said again, smooth but teasing. "I'm 'C.' Talking to you through the mana in the air."
His pulse slowed, though unease gnawed at him. He scanned every corner, every face, but no source revealed itself. Eventually, he gave up, shoulders sagging.
"You won't find me," the voice chuckled. "It isn't time for us to meet yet."
There was a pause, softer words fading like a whisper swallowed by the wind:"…hope Mother was right."
Zavier frowned. "What did you—" but the voice was gone.
Before he could dwell further, the door at the front of the room opened. A woman stepped in, her presence commanding yet warm. Her uniform flowed like living light — white, sleek, with silver accents that caught the ambient glow of the chamber.
"Hello, everyone," she said, her voice bright, almost musical. "I'm Instructor Ayleen, though you may call me Madam Ayleen if you prefer. This course is History of the Universe and Multiverse."
Several students groaned quietly. She smirked knowingly.
"Yes, I know. History." She paced across the stage with sharp heels. "But if you don't know where you come from, you won't know what you're standing on. And in this place, ignorance is the fastest way to die."
That silenced the room.
"Let's begin with basics. Grand Clinnore Academy. This very institution is located in the Polar Nexus Sector of Universe 0-12. That makes us neighbors to dozens of minor races… and one major race — the Starborn."
Zavier straightened. He'd heard whispers about them.
"The academy was established exactly one billion years ago, around the time this universe first stabilized. Its founder was Kaelith Lox Clinnore, a Starborn powerhouse whose influence stretched across dozens of sectors. For half a billion years, he led this place as its protector and visionary. But after a terrible war… he vanished. Whether he lives or not is a question none have answered."
Gasps and mutters filled the hall.
Ayleen raised a finger. "Remember this: civilizations rise and fall, but the multiverse keeps turning. The Clinnore lineage left behind more than a school. They left a foundation of power that shaped history itself."
She tapped the board, and glowing glyphs spread across it like constellations.
"Three milestones to know, if you intend to survive your time here:
The Fracturing Epoch — when the first multiverse split, birthing countless universes.
The War of Primal Embers — when the earliest races fought for dominion, staining galaxies with fire.
The Veil Accords — a treaty that stabilized sectors like this one, though peace," her lips curled wryly, "is always temporary."
Her gaze swept the students, eyes sharp as blades. "This is the ground you walk on. Forget it, and the ground will swallow you."
Zavier exhaled, leaning back. His chest tightened, mind replaying the whisper: hope Mother was right.
And for the first time since he'd arrived, the weight of history pressed on him as heavily as the stares of his peers.
...
After the eye-opening but nerve-racking history lecture, it was time for the class everyone both dreaded and anticipated — Combat Prowess, under Instructor Maerov.
Unlike the theory-laden halls of Ayleen's class, this was the place where survival was stripped to its bones. Here, no textbook could protect you.
Zavier stepped into the training hall and immediately locked eyes with the man at its center. Instructor Maerov stood like an unyielding pillar — his face carved with stern lines, his gaze as sharp and merciless as drawn blades. When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of command.
"Today we begin combat training. Until you all start your mana manipulation course, we will focus only on your raw combat ability."
His gaze swept over the gathered students — a sea of figures, each from different races, their energies prickling in the air.
"I am well aware that every one of you comes with your own attributes, strengths, and weaknesses. That doesn't matter. The training you will undergo here will test you in all areas. And when we're done, I will personally create a guide for each of you, pointing out where you lack. Do not misunderstand — it will not be perfect, as I do not know every detail of your bloodlines. It will serve only as a reference… a foundation from which you may begin."
A flicker of grim satisfaction crossed his face.
"Now—let us begin."
With a single wave of his hand, reality warped. The walls of the academy dissolved, and in the blink of an eye, the students found themselves standing on a massive open field stretching beyond the horizon, the ground glowing faintly with layered wards.
The sudden shift drew murmurs and startled exclamations from the crowd of thousands.
Maerov's voice boomed like thunder across the plains."For the next three bell cycles, you will fight each other. This will be a free-for-all. You will remain in your humanoid forms, and I will be watching."
A ripple of unease passed through the crowd. One student finally stepped forward, his voice cracking with disbelief:"How can you possibly oversee all of us? There are… there are thousands here!"
The words hung in the air. Maerov turned his head slowly, his expression darkening. His eyes locked on the speaker, pinning him where he stood.
"You are weak," Maerov said flatly, his voice like a blade through silence. "You broke through to Rank 1 years ago and still haven't stabilized your mana. Tell me—how did someone like you even step foot into this academy?"
The young man froze, his face draining of color. He opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out. Under Maerov's gaze, he simply bowed his head in silence.
Maerov's voice rose once more, sharp and final."Enough. Begin."
The command cracked through the air, and in an instant, the battlefield erupted.