The snickers lingered in the air like smoke, clinging to me as I sat back down. Undefined. Weak. The words echoed louder than the teacher's voice, drowning out the next few names on the list.
Professor Thorne continued the core assessment, calling low nobles now. Their turns were quicker—mostly Adept ranks, with affinities like fire or earth, bloodlines weak but present. Applause was polite, but nothing like the cheers for the royals.
I kept my head down, staring at the floor. The orb's pale blue flicker replayed in my mind. Undefined affinity. No bloodline. Novice.
They see me as trash. Good. Let them. Stay under the radar—wait, too late for that.
The realization from the roll call still buzzed in my head like mana in the air. This was the story. *Eternal Crown of Ashes*. The one I'd read to escape my old life, scrolling through chapters on sleepless nights. The prophecy, the academy, the nobles gathering to fight the Abyss. Celine as the heroine, Raiden the leader, Kael the dark one, Silas the loyal friend, Mira the support.
And me? Nothing. I wasn't supposed to be here.
So why am I? Is this a joke? A punishment? Or something worse?
The teacher's voice cut through my thoughts. "F-Class, step forward as called. We'll make this quick."
The commoners went one by one. Weak glows, Novice ranks, no affinities or bloodlines. Some got pitying looks, others outright laughter. One boy with a faint green glow got "Adept rank, weak earth affinity—no bloodline." Murmurs of surprise—he'd climb fast.
Then my name again? No—they'd already done me.
The assessment ended with a final clap from the stage. Professor Thorne nodded. "That's all for now. Your ranks will determine your classes and training groups. Report to your assigned wings for dormitory placement. Dismissed."
The crowd rose, chatter filling the hall like a storm. I stayed seated for a moment, letting the mass flow past me. No point rushing—F-Class was last in everything.
Undefined. What does that even mean? No affinity? Am I broken? Or is it because I'm not from here?
I stood, slipping into the stream of recruits heading out. The whispers followed me—"That's the late one." "Weak core." "Weird hair."
Outside, the grounds were buzzing. Signs directed to the wings: High Nobles to the upper towers, low nobles to the middle halls, F-Class to the lower basement.
I followed the F-Class sign, the path winding down stone stairs into a dimmer, cooler part of the academy. The mana flow felt thinner here, the runes on the walls faded.
The dormitory wing was underground—damp stone walls, low ceilings, mana-lanterns flickering weakly. A tired-looking woman in a gray uniform stood at the entrance, handing out keys from a wooden tray.
She looked up as I approached, eyes heavy with fatigue but still sharp.
"Name?" she asked, voice rough like she'd been talking all day.
"Eryndor Vale."
She scanned her list, found me, and pulled out a small brass key. "Room 47. Single dorm. Lucky you—most share."
Single dorm.
I took the key, surprise flickering through me. No roommate meant no one to watch me sleep, no questions about my hair or piercings. Just solitude.
Or isolation. Same thing.
She leaned on the table, rubbing her neck with a sigh. "I'm Miss Miora. Dormitory supervisor for F-Class. Been here longer than most of you will last." She gave a tired half-smile, the kind that said she'd seen every type of recruit come and go.
I hesitated. "Miss Miora... why a single room? I thought F-Class was shared."
She shrugged, voice low. "We had a dropout last minute. Kid couldn't handle the basement air, I guess. Room was empty, so... you got it. Don't get used to it—next term, if you don't climb, you'll share with three others. Or worse."
She tilted her head, studying me for a second. "You got any questions before you go down there? It's not exactly the royal suites."
I glanced at the key in my hand. "A few. Are there... lockdowns? Curfews? Quiet hours?"
Miss Miora gave a short, dry laugh. "Lockdowns? Not unless there's a rift breach or some idiot summons something they shouldn't. But curfew? Yes. Lights out at midnight—strict. The mana-lamps dim automatically, and the runes glow red if you're still up. Quiet hours start at ten. No loud spells, no shouting, no... whatever you kids get up to. The walls echo, remember that."
She leaned closer, voice dropping. "Sign-in and sign-out are mandatory. If you leave the wing after curfew, you need to log it with me or the night guard. If you're not back by morning, we start looking. And trust me—you don't want us looking."
I nodded slowly. "Understood. Thanks."
She waved a hand. "Go on. And remember—keep your head down, Vale. The basement's rough, but it's survivable. Most don't make it past the first month. If you do... well, then maybe you'll climb."
I gave a small nod. "Thanks, Miss Miora."
She waved me off, already turning to the next recruit. "Good luck. You'll need it."
I headed down the corridor. The floor was uneven stone, the walls damp. Doors were plain wood, some scratched, some with faint mana-runes that had long since faded. Voices drifted from behind a few—muffled conversations, the occasional laugh. F-Class recruits settling in.
Room 47 was at the very end, the last door before a dead-end wall. The key turned with a gritty scrape. Inside, the room was small and sparse: a narrow cot, a wooden desk, a basin with a cracked mirror above it, a single wardrobe that looked like it might collapse if I opened it too hard. No window. Just a weak mana-lamp on the ceiling, casting a dim blue glow.
I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. The lock clicked into place.
Silence.
Absolute silence.
No carriage wheels. No nobles laughing. No whispers about my hair.
Just me.
I set my backpack on the cot and summoned the travel bag from the ring. It appeared with that familiar soft pop. I opened it, pulling out a fresh set of clothes—a simple tunic and pants, nothing fancy. The old ones were dusty from the road, so I changed quickly, folding the rest of my clothes neatly and storing them in the wardrobe. It creaked as I opened it, the wood old and warped, but it held. The few supplies from Valenridge went in too—notebook on the desk, dried food in the drawer. Everything in its place
I sat on the cot, the frame creaking under me. The mattress was thin, the blanket rough. But it was mine. No one else.
Single dorm. Why? F-Class is supposed to be shared. Motivation to climb, Taren said. Weed out the weak.
Maybe they had one extra room. Maybe someone dropped out. Maybe it was a mistake.
Or maybe it wasn't.
I leaned back against the wall, the cold stone pressing through my shirt. My fingers brushed the dagger at my belt—Celestite Fang. The name still felt strange in my mind, but right. Like it had always been waiting for me to say it.
Thirty-five Silberkronen. Every one worth it, now that it had a name.
I pulled the book from the ring—Forbidden Runes of the Abyss. The cover was cold, the runes shifting slightly under my fingers. I opened it, the pages yellowed and brittle. The first chapter spoke of the Abyss as a realm of endless void, its energy twisting mana into something dangerous.
Void Essence? Never heard of it. Was never mentioned..
The words drew me in, but a chill crept up my spine. This book was dangerous— forbidden for a reason.
I closed it, storing it away. Tomorrow, classes. Tests. More eyes.
Stay invisible.
But how, when the story already knew I was here?