The soft roar of engines echoed through the academy grounds as the colossal flying ship descended from the clouds.
It was a marvel of arcane engineering—an enormous, tiered vessel carved from enchanted driftwood and fitted with gleaming brass-bound mana turbines. Its sails shimmered with imbued runes, capturing the very winds of the sky. Suspended by floating stones and reinforced with levitation glyphs, the ship cast a vast shadow over the campus.
Hundreds of students gawked at the majestic form of the Astral Phoenix, the flagship of the Imperial Academy Fleet, capable of ferrying entire battalions—and today, the entire first-year class.
Kael Varian stood silently among the gathered crowd, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, cloak fluttering gently in the wind. He didn't need to look up to admire the ship. He remembered it from the novel.
This was the moment the first-year students were ferried off to the Northern Isle for the training expedition.
This was the beginning of the end—for those unprepared.
And he would not be one of them.
"Boarding groups One through Five, assemble!" an instructor shouted from the side.
Students began organizing into lines, filing toward the ship's broad loading platforms that extended from the sides like wings. Kael moved without a word, slipping into the flow like a shadow.
He spotted Sylara ahead, her white hair swaying behind her like silk. She carried no large gear, only a compact satchel on her shoulder and a sheathed rapier across her back. Her movements were fluid, graceful, but distant.
Just before stepping aboard, her eyes flicked sideways and met Kael's.
Brief. Measured.
And then she walked on.
—
The interior of the Astral Phoenix was even grander than its exterior suggested. The upper decks housed training arenas, observation domes, and mana attunement chambers, while the lower levels provided accommodations—rows of bunks and personal chambers for elite students.
Kael, being ranked C-, was placed in a private chamber with a sky-facing window. It had a reinforced bed, a compact spellcore lantern, a foldable desk, and a shelf embedded with runes for stabilizing potions and equipment.
He placed his bag on the table and took a long breath.
The ship vibrated subtly as the engines ignited.
Moments later, they were airborne.
—
The journey lasted most of the day. Students roamed the upper decks, laughing, sparring, and pointing at the passing scenery—the rolling clouds, the distant mountains, and the sea of forests far below.
Kael didn't join the commotion.
He sat in the observation dome, eyes closed, feeling the shift in mana currents as they moved farther north. The ley lines below grew colder, more erratic. Wild mana. Untamed.
He observed everyone with a calm detachment, keeping his thoughts to himself. Riven was training with his squad near the sparring area, Sylara had disappeared into the upper viewing deck, and several nobles from Class C were gossiping about how this expedition would be a test for future elite selections.
He let the noise pass through him.
Hours passed.
As evening fell, the island came into view.
The Northern Isle.
It was breathtaking—an emerald gem cradled by silver waves, with forests sprawling over jagged cliffs, rivers gleaming like threads of light, and mountains capped in snow.
A glowing sigil on the ship's bow activated, guiding it toward the landing platform etched into the cliffside.
The ship docked with a soft lurch.
Kael disembarked with the rest of the students, boots hitting the mossy stone path that led into the forested interior.
The air smelled different here—rich with minerals, alive with elemental mana. Kael's senses twitched.
The Northern Isle was beautiful. But beneath that beauty lay the subtle pulse of something ancient, untamed, and waiting.
—
The camp was already prepared—rows of reinforced tents, a command pavilion, training zones, and watch towers. Instructors barked out instructions as groups were assigned their tents.
To Kael's quiet surprise, his tent was located near the edge of camp—spacious, private, and isolated.
He unpacked efficiently, placing his weapons within reach and his status crystal by his bedside. Then, stepping out, he glanced around.
That's when he saw her.
Sylara, again, was standing near the treeline, gazing up at the stars.
He approached slowly.
She didn't move.
He stopped beside her, silent for a time.
The night wind was cool. The moon was full, casting silver light across the grass and the trees. Far away, the sound of waves echoed gently against the cliffs.
"Beautiful night," Kael said softly.
She didn't answer.
He didn't expect her to.
But then, her voice came. Low. Distant.
"It always feels like this… like something is watching."
Kael turned to look at her.
Her face was expressionless, but her eyes shimmered in the moonlight. Not with fear, but with sharp clarity.
"The mana here is different," she continued. "Alive, almost hostile. Like the land itself is waiting to test us."
Kael nodded. "It will."
Sylara glanced at him. "You speak as if you know."
"I've seen it before."
They stood together in silence again. And for the first time since he had met her…
She smiled.
Faint. Fragile.
But real.
Kael's breath caught for a moment.
It wasn't a grand moment. It wasn't romantic. But it was something—something that flickered in his chest like a spark he didn't know he'd been holding onto.
They sat down on a nearby bench beneath a tall crescent-leaf tree. Sylara rested her hands on her lap. Kael leaned forward slightly, forearms on his knees.
They didn't speak much more.
But their silence wasn't empty.
And as the stars turned overhead, Kael thought to himself:
No matter what happens tomorrow...
I will protect her.
Even though she didn't die in the original story in this event, I will still stand by her side.
Because something tells me this time… everything will change.
The night passed slowly, the moonlight casting soft halos on the grass around them.
Tomorrow, the real training would begin.
But tonight?
It was calm.
A moment of stillness. A vow forged not with words, but in silence.