Long before the Great Academy stood as a beacon of hope, the world was drowning in its own blood.
For centuries, Humans, Elves, and Dwarves waged an endless, brutal war against one another. But their petty squabbles were forced to a halt by the arrival of a single entity: Zaratos.
He was a supreme mage of unknown origin, a being who wielded a cursed, parasitic dark magic. This abhorrent power promised absolute strength to whoever embraced it, but at a horrific cost—it drained the very soul of the user, twisting them into mindless, bloodthirsty monsters. The Elves, with their near-immortal lifespans, suffered the most, their souls slowly devoured by the agonizing rot of Zaratos's curse.
Faced with extinction, the races forged a desperate alliance. It took mountains of corpses and rivers of blood, but they finally pushed Zaratos back. The dark mage vanished, taking the secrets of his accursed magic with him, leaving behind a scarred and shattered world.
To ensure such a catastrophe would never happen again, the Great Magic Academy was founded. It was designed to gather the greatest magical talents across all races, a shield against the darkness.
Centuries later, the Academy's entrance exam was the single most important event of the year.
And for Arthur, an ordinary human teenager from a quiet border village, it was the only way to achieve his impossible dream.
"Are you lost, Arthur? Or did you just come to watch the real mages?"
Arthur paused his walk. Standing in the middle of the dirt road blocking his path to the village's preliminary arena was Kaelen, surrounded by a group of mocking boys.
"I'm here for the exam," Arthur replied, his voice calm and steady.
Kaelen scoffed, exchanging amused glances with his friends. "The exam? With your magic? Go back home, Arthur. You're going to get yourself killed. 'Talking to animals' won't save you when a fireball is flying at your face."
Arthur didn't bother arguing. He simply adjusted the worn leather strap of his practice sword, stepped around the laughing group, and continued walking. Let them laugh. He knew his magical affinity—Beast Communion—was universally considered garbage on a battlefield. He had no elemental destruction, no defensive shields, no healing arts.
But Arthur had something else. He had an obsession.
By the time Arthur entered the preliminary arena, the stands were already roaring. The testing ground was a massive, reinforced stone platform, surrounded by a cheering audience and a stern panel of Academy judges.
Arthur watched from the waiting area as candidate after candidate took the stage. The air crackled with raw power. He saw roaring torrents of fire, fierce gales of wind that cut like blades, and massive boulders hurled with a flick of a wrist. There were no limits to the destruction these nobles and prodigies could unleash.
"Next match," a judge's magically amplified voice boomed across the arena. "Arthur versus Kaelen."
A murmur rippled through the local crowd. Arthur stepped onto the stone platform, drawing his simple iron sword. Across from him, Kaelen cracked his knuckles, a smug grin plastered on his face.
"I warned you," Kaelen sneered, magic already gathering around his boots. "Now it's too late to back out."
"Begin!" the judge commanded.
Instantly, Kaelen slammed his foot into the stone floor. CRACK!
The earth roared. A massive fissure tore through the solid ground, rushing straight toward Arthur, threatening to swallow him whole and crush his legs.
Arthur didn't panic. He didn't even blink.He had spent years pushing his physical limits to the absolute maximum, knowing his magic wouldn't protect him. His eyes, trained by countless hours of relentless battle analysis, traced the trajectory of Kaelen's attack.
With an explosive burst of speed, Arthur pushed off the ground, twisting his body mid-air just as the stone jaws snapped shut beneath him. He landed smoothly, his breathing controlled.
"Just dodging won't save you!" Kaelen barked, waving his hands. Jagged spikes of rock shot out from the ground, raining down on Arthur like spears.
Arthur weaved through the chaotic assault. A step to the left, a duck, a swift parry with the flat of his blade. He was conserving energy, analyzing Kaelen's breathing, looking for the blind spot. But the sheer volume of earth magic was overwhelming. He needed an opening.
That was when Arthur's eyes flicked to the sky.
High above the arena, a solitary pigeon was circling, disturbed by the noise.
Arthur's mana flared—invisible, silent, and entirely overlooked by the crowd. He sent a single, sharp command straight into the bird's primitive mind. Dive. Now.
Kaelen raised his hands to summon a massive boulder to finish the fight, but suddenly, a blur of grey and white shot down from the sky.
Flap! Flap! Coo!
The pigeon crashed directly into Kaelen's face, its wings beating wildly against his eyes, scratching at his nose.
"Argh! What the—Get off me!" Kaelen yelled, his concentration shattering instantly. The half-formed boulder crumbled into dust. He swung wildly, swatting the bird away in a panic.
Panting, Kaelen glared back at the spot where Arthur had just been standing, ready to unleash his fury.
But the spot was empty.
Kaelen froze. A sudden, terrifying chill washed over him. He didn't even have time to turn his head before he felt it.
A cold, sharp edge of iron pressed gently against the side of his neck.
"I believe," a calm voice whispered from right behind Kaelen's ear, "this match is over."