The carriage rolled over the cobblestone streets of Valencrest, the rhythmic clatter of wheels against stone blending with the murmur of the morning crowd. Sunlight glinted off the enchanted rooftops, and faint motes of magic shimmered in the air like fireflies caught in sunlight. Merchants peddled wares with voices that carried far, while nobles walked past with the practiced pride of people who believed the world revolved around them.
Lucien Valecrest sat upright in the carriage, his posture perfectly composed, golden eyes serene yet observant. He wore a fine navy tunic, embroidered subtly with the Valecrest family crest. His black hair fell neatly to his shoulders, framing a face too perfect to be accidental—handsome, calm, and entirely human in appearance.
He didn't bother acknowledging the gawking citizens or the whispers of noblewomen and maids outside the carriage. Their admiration or envy was meaningless. In another life, he had commanded legions, and mortal attention had never mattered. Now, reborn as a human, he had a new role, a new mask. Everything would be approached deliberately, measuredly, without exposing the power lurking beneath.
Beside him, Iris, his maid, sat with her hands folded demurely on her lap. Her silver hair glimmered faintly in the sunlight, and her emerald eyes flicked nervously toward him. She had tried to hide it, but Lucien noticed immediately—the subtle tremor in her mana, the way her heartbeat accelerated ever so slightly.
"You're tense," he said in a soft voice.
She flinched. "I-I wasn't aware… that you would notice, young master."
Lucien's lips curved faintly. "Mana does not lie. You're far too aware of your surroundings. Relaxing might make you more… efficient."
Her hands tightened involuntarily. "I will… try."
He allowed himself the tiniest of smiles. She was strong. Not just physically, but her mana—her potential—was remarkable. Healing magic of this caliber was rare. In his previous life, someone like her would have been a prized asset, sought by nations and demon clans alike. Here, she was a simple maid accompanying him. Inefficient, yes—but for now, useful.
The carriage slowed.
Lucien's gaze shifted to the front, and the massive white gates of Aetherion Magic Academy loomed ahead. Towering spires jutted toward the sky, each etched with glowing runes that pulsed faintly with protective enchantments. Magic circulated in the air like a living river, and Lucien could feel hundreds of individual signatures, young yet potent, brushing against his senses.
"Interesting," he murmured, eyes narrowing. The world of humans had structure, rules, and hierarchy—much like the Demon Realm, though far weaker and slower. He could read the currents of ambition, the sparks of latent power, even the faint trembling of fear. Every student inside these walls would be a potential threat—or tool.
The gates opened, and the carriage moved forward.
The academy grounds were breathtaking. Training fields stretched endlessly, dotted with enchanted statues and practice dummies, some scorched and melted from powerful spells. Spires and towers rose high, their tips lost in the morning mist. Floating platforms hovered above the courtyards, glimmering faintly as they defied gravity. Magical familiars swooped past, circling around students, while enchanted lights hovered like will-o'-the-wisps, illuminating pathways.
Lucien stepped down from the carriage. The moment his foot touched the stone pavement, dozens of eyes turned toward him. Whispers rippled across the crowd of students and staff alike.
"Who… is that?"
"Golden eyes… black hair… so handsome…"
"Valecrest family, right?"
Lucien ignored them. In the Demon Realm, he had commanded armies, and mortal attention was trivial. Here, he would continue to hide his true strength. It was far more advantageous to appear ordinary than to reveal the storm within.
Iris followed quietly, keeping pace beside him, her hands clasped in front of her. He could sense her unease. She was talented, yes—but new to this world, new to this academy, and surrounded by children who had already been trained to fight, to manipulate, to survive.
"Don't let them distract you," he said softly. "This is merely a gate. The real game begins inside."
They were guided toward the Entrance Assessment Hall, a vast circular building crafted from white stone and crystal. Inside, students had already gathered, their whispers creating a low hum of anticipation. Some were escorted by parents, others by tutors or guards. Mana flowed through the air like an invisible wind, carrying with it the promise of potential—and danger.
Lucien's eyes swept over the room.
A boy with red hair and flames dancing around his fists—reckless, dangerous if unrestrained.
A girl with silver hair, floating slightly above the ground, currents of wind circling her—talented, yet naive.
A tall, broad-shouldered youth radiating earth-based mana, grounded and steady, like a wall waiting to test others.
He cataloged them all. Allies, enemies, distractions. Everything had a place in the grand scheme, and he would remember.
"Lucien Valecrest," a calm voice announced.
All eyes turned.
He stepped forward. A crystal orb hovered before him, humming softly.
"Place your hand on the orb and release your mana," the examiner instructed.
Lucien obeyed, though in truth, his mana was a storm contained beneath the surface. If he unleashed even a fraction, the orb might shatter, and the academy would recognize far more than he intended.
He let only the smallest trace of energy touch the crystal. It glowed faintly, almost imperceptibly.
The examiner frowned. "…Low output."
Whispers erupted.
"Valecrest family? Weak?"
"Disappointing."
Lucien removed his hand, expression serene. He bowed lightly. "Understood."
"Class C," the examiner muttered. "You'll be placed there."
A small victory, though invisible to everyone else. Being underestimated was a shield. Visibility was a threat. In this environment, appearing ordinary was a tactical advantage.
Iris's fists clenched tightly, her green eyes wide.
Lucien met her gaze, expression unreadable.
"Patience," he said softly. "Strength revealed too early draws enemies."
Class C was far from the grandeur of the upper-tier classrooms. Simpler architecture, fewer magical ornaments, and a collection of students who either lacked noble lineage or were considered mediocre by their families.
Perfect.
Lucien found a seat near the window. From here, he could observe everything: student interactions, teacher movements, patterns of mana fluctuations. Knowledge was power—even in mundane environments.
The classroom doors opened again. Footsteps echoed.
A man entered. Tall, silver-haired, eyes sharp enough to cut glass. Presence heavy, almost palpable. The students fell silent.
"I am Professor Kael Ardrin," the man announced. "Your homeroom instructor."
Lucien's attention sharpened. Strong. Experienced. Not at demon-king level, but capable of causing serious trouble if underestimated.
"Magic is not talent alone," Kael continued. "It is control, adaptability, and survival."
Lucien inclined his head slightly. Good philosophy.
"Tomorrow, you will undergo your practical combat assessment. Your performance will determine your training track."
Excited murmurs passed through the class. Lucien leaned back, expression neutral. Combat would reveal far more than mana tests ever could. He would not be reckless, but observation would come first, followed by calculated action.
Night arrived.
The academy bathed in pale moonlight, quiet except for the occasional hoot of an owl or rustle of the wind.
Lucien stepped onto the balcony, the cool night air brushing against his face. Below, the courtyard lay empty, shadows pooling beneath the spires. He closed his eyes, feeling the heartbeat of the world.
Deep inside him, his previous life stirred—a seal within his soul, containing a force he had yet to reveal. Black flames curled faintly in his chest, dormant yet aware.
Not yet.
Too early.
He opened his eyes. Moonlight reflected in them, golden and unyielding.
Footsteps approached.
"I brought a blanket," Iris said softly, holding it out to him.
He allowed her to drape it over his shoulders.
"Why do you hide your power?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Lucien gazed at the moon. "Because those who reveal their strength too soon invite destruction. Timing is everything."
She nodded slowly. "You sound… like someone much older than you are."
"I am," he replied simply.
Far beneath the academy, in hidden chambers untouched by students, a crystal quivered.
Dark mist seeped from it, spreading like ink through water.
"A demon has returned," a whisper hissed in the shadows.
Lucien's eyes narrowed. He didn't yet know who had noticed him. Perhaps enemies from his previous life, or simply the dangerous curiosity of this world.
He smiled faintly.
Let them watch. Let them underestimate.
The game had begun.
And this time, he would not play for a throne. He would play for absolute control.