The Imperial Arcane Academy was a marvel to behold—towering marble spires reaching toward the sky, intricate arches, and sprawling courtyards lined with statues of great heroes and scholars. Every stone seemed soaked in centuries of tradition, discipline, and power.
As I walked beneath the grand entrance, a knot tightened in my chest. This was where futures were forged — where strength, skill, and wit were tested relentlessly.
---
This academy was no ordinary school.
It was the empire's premier institution, where magic, combat, and strategy were honed to perfection. Here, the finest minds and most formidable fighters gathered, regardless of bloodline. Noble title meant nothing; only merit counted.
---
Most students arrived already ahead of me.
Many wielded elemental powers—fire, water, earth, or mind—at levels far beyond mine, between 12 and 19.
My own talents, logic and telekinesis, barely scratched level 1. My tier was a modest 1 at level 9.
I was a shadow beneath giants.
---
The academy was structured with precision:
First Years learned foundational theory and practical skills.
Second Years tackled advanced combat and spellcasting.
Third Years took on leadership roles and tactical command.
Fourth Years became masters, ready to shape the empire's future.
The imperial prince was already in the second year—a living reminder that the path here demanded excellence.
---
But this place was not just about training.
Beyond these walls, the world was threatened by monsters—beasts born of dark forces and ancient curses.
They were ranked by strength and intelligence:
from F to SSS tier.
The lower tiers were feral and dangerous, but the higher ranks—A, S, and above—were cunning and ruthless, capable of rallying others and bringing entire regions to ruin.
---
The gates ahead were massive, wrought iron etched with glowing sigils — protective wards meant to keep the worst monsters at bay.
Two guards in ceremonial armor stood watch, eyes sharp, their hands never straying far from their weapons.
Whispers floated among the crowd.
> "Valeon, the weak noble."
"Level 9 at first year? He'll be lunch for the higher monsters."
"Even the imperial prince watches his back."
I didn't respond. The whispers fueled something inside me — a quiet fire of resolve.
---
Inside the courtyard, students drilled with relentless precision.
Fire bursts, ice shards, shadow strikes — every move calculated and honed.
Assassins melted into the stone pillars; warriors formed perfect lines that could topple entire armies.
The threat of monsters outside made every lesson a matter of life or death.
---
Then, sharp as a dagger, a voice called out.
"Valeon."
A girl with fiery red hair approached, eyes blazing.
"I'm Lyra Tressa," she said. "This place will break anyone not ready to fight."
---
A senior instructor stepped forward, robes embroidered with silver threads.
"This academy measures worth by skill alone," he said. "Blood means nothing."
I nodded, heart pounding.
---
The gates clanged shut behind me.
The Imperial Arcane Academy was no longer a distant dream.
It was my new battlefield.