The gates of the Fire Academy loomed over Alex like the maw of a great beast. Black steel carved with runes shimmered faintly as if alive, and the crimson banners of the Fire Nation snapped overhead, embroidered with golden dragons and a burning sun. Beyond those gates, destiny waited not just his, but that of every child who stood trembling in the courtyard outside.
Alex's small hands tightened around the strap of his satchel. His palms were slick with sweat, but he dared not wipe them. He tilted his head back, staring at the monumental arch that seemed tall enough to scrape the sky. His chest ached with a mixture of awe and dread.
This wasn't just a school. It was a forge where children would either be reforged into warriors or broken into ashes.
"Move forward," Captain Kaelen ordered, his voice steady, calm, yet carrying the steel of command. His presence was the only anchor Alex had in this storm of nerves.
The other children shuffled, some whispering, some strutting proudly as though the world already belonged to them.
Nobles in silk-lined cloaks smirked at commoners in patched tunics. Elven heirs, tall and graceful, held their heads high while half-bloods kept theirs lowered.
Alex's feet felt heavy as he crossed the threshold. The courtyard stretched vast and gleaming, its obsidian tiles polished until they reflected the morning sun like pools of dark flame. Statues of knights, dragon riders, and battle-mages lined the perimeter, their carved eyes staring down like judges of fate.
Alex swallowed hard. This was no outpost, no dusty training yard. This was the heart of the Fire Nation's pride.
The children were corralled into formation by academy guards clad in scarlet armor. Their movements were sharp, disciplined, and unforgiving. One misstep earned a barked correction.
"Stand straight!"
"Eyes forward!"
"Do not shuffle like peasants!"
The nobles obeyed with smug confidence, their posture perfect, their gazes arrogant. Commoners, refugees, and half-bloods shifted uneasily, struggling to match the polished grace. Alex stood in the back, smaller than most, his tunic rough against his skin. The sneers from the noble-born burned hotter than the sun above.
One boy, draped in crimson silk with a ruby pendant glittering at his throat, leaned toward his companions and smirked openly at Alex. "That one's from Elderleaf, isn't he? The burnt-out village. No wonder he looks like ash."
Laughter rippled among the noble circle. Alex's face heated, but he bit his lip until it hurt. He had endured worse mockery was nothing compared to flames consuming his home.
"Quiet!" barked an instructor.
The laughter died instantly. Alex kept his eyes forward, fists clenched.
They were marched into one of the outer training grounds. A vast rectangle of packed earth, ringed with racks of wooden weapons and straw dummies, stretched before them. Heat shimmered in the air not from sunlight alone, but from the faint glow of fire runes etched into the walls.
"Pairs!" shouted Instructor Veynar, a broad-shouldered man with a scar down his cheek. His presence made the courtyard feel smaller. "You are no longer coddled children. Here, you will sweat, bleed, and be beaten until weakness is burned out of you. Grab a weapon and form up."
Children scrambled for wooden swords, staffs, and shields. Nobles claimed the best pieces, polished and balanced. The rest fought over crooked sticks and cracked blades.
Alex managed to seize a small wooden sword, light enough for his arms but chipped at the edge. He tested the weight it wobbled in his grip, but it would do.
"Drills!" Veynar roared. "Raise your weapons! Stance ready!"
Alex obeyed, planting his feet as Eryndor had once taught him. Inhale, steady the knees, weight low. His sword wavered, but his stance held.
[Ding!]
[Basic Stance Control: 7% → 12%.]
The faint glow of the System flickered at the edge of his vision. His chest tightened, not with fear this time but with resolve.
"Swing!"
The yard erupted with the clatter of wood. Children slashed at the air, some with practiced ease, others clumsy and wild.
Alex swung. The first arc jarred his arms, his wrists screaming in protest. His sword cut the air unevenly.
"Pathetic!" Veynar barked. "Put your weight into it, boy!"
Alex adjusted. Inhale raise. Exhale cut. He let his hips turn, the weight of his small body driving the swing.
[Ding!]
[+7 EXP. Basic Swordsmanship Proficiency: 41% → 47%.]
Sweat stung his eyes, his arms burned, but the System rewarded him for every effort. While nobles showed off their elegance, conjuring sparks of flame to accompany their strikes, Alex's blade inched sharper, steadier, faster.
The boy with the ruby pendant Kaelith of House Veynor swaggered nearby, his swings perfect, flames crackling from his free hand with each cut.
"See, peasants? This is how a true warrior trains!" he declared loudly. His friends cheered, their voices echoing in the yard.
When Alex stumbled on his fiftieth swing, Kaelith laughed, pointing openly. "Look at him! Barely strong enough to lift a stick. Maybe he should fetch water for us instead of wasting time here."
The laughter stung sharper than the strain in his arms. Alex gritted his teeth, forcing his blade up again. Inhale. Exhale. Cut.
[Ding!]
[Skill Progression: +10 EXP. Proficiency: 63%.]
Kaelith sneered. "Oh, he thinks swinging like a farmer makes him a swordsman. Watch this."
With a flourish, Kaelith spun his wooden blade in a perfect arc, flames wrapping around it in a dazzling display. The crowd of noble-born gasped in admiration.
Alex's chest ached. He had no flame. No noble blood. No strength to match them. Only the System whispered back to him, urging him onward.
Sparring Matches
"Pair off!" Veynar commanded. "Test your strikes against each other."
Children scrambled. Nobles paired with each other, eager to clash. Commoners looked nervous, some forced into mismatched fights.
Alex found himself shoved forward, facing a taller boy nearly twice his size. The boy grinned, teeth bared like a wolf. "Easy win," he muttered.
The spar began with a whistle.
The boy lunged, wooden blade crashing down. Alex raised his sword desperately. The impact rattled through his arms, forcing him to his knees.
[Ding!]
[Resilience +1.]
Pain seared his shoulders, but he refused to let go. He twisted, swinging clumsily at the boy's side. His opponent laughed and shoved him to the dirt.
Laughter erupted from the sidelines. Kaelith's voice rang loudest: "Useless half-blood!"
Alex's breath came ragged. Dirt clung to his lips, his palms torn raw from gripping the sword. But the System chimed faintly.
[+12 EXP. Basic Swordsmanship: 72% → 84%.]
He staggered up, raised his sword again. The boy rolled his eyes and struck once more, sending Alex sprawling.
"Enough!" Veynar barked. "Winner Korr."
The noble-born children cheered. Alex's limbs trembled as he pushed himself upright, chest burning with shame. But when he glanced at the glowing bar at the edge of his vision, he froze.
[Basic Swordsmanship Proficiency: 96%.]
One more step. Just one more.
Night fell over the academy. The children were herded into dormitories rows of cots crammed together, nobles at one end, commoners at the other. The air was thick with whispers, mockery, and muffled snores.
Alex lay on the rough bedding, staring at the ceiling beams. His arms screamed from the day's training, his palms blistered and raw. The laughter of Kaelith still rang in his ears.
But the System whispered louder.
[Ding!]
[Basic Swordsmanship: 96% → 99%.]
His breath caught. He was so close just one more swing, one more strike away from breakthrough. He flexed his blistered hands and smiled faintly despite the ache in his body.
"They laugh now," he whispered into the quiet. "But tomorrow… tomorrow I'll be stronger."
The faint glow of the System pulsed warmly in response, like a flame waiting to ignite.