The next morning, Valen woke before dawn.
The attic was still dark, the dormer window showing only the faintest hint of grey on the horizon. He bathed using the basin he'd prepared the night before—cold enough to sharpen his thoughts—and dressed in his grey Academy cloak over comfortable clothes and sturdy boots.
Descending the ladder, he found someone already sitting at the dining table.
Not someone. Something.
"Oh! You're awake," a childlike voice called out cheerfully. "I thought I'd have to send the automaton up to wake you myself."
Valen paused on the bottom step. The voice. The same one from yesterday controlling the automaton.
The figure at the table wasn't a child. Up close, the proportions were wrong—head slightly too large, eyes wider than normal, limbs shorter but with adult musculature. A dwarf, Valen realized, though the term felt inadequate. The features carried a strange quality, almost crystalline in their sharpness.
"Come, come! The automaton made Sunrise Grain Porridge with Honeyberries." The dwarf gestured at a steaming bowl. "It's actually edible when you follow the recipe properly. My earlier models had… calibration issues."
The porridge smelled incredible—warm grain with hints of cinnamon and something floral. Golden honeyberries floated on top like tiny suns, skins translucent enough to show the seeds within.
"Ah, good morning, senior." Valen sat across from him, accepting the bowl. "I didn't ask your name yesterday."
"Just call me Rock."
"Rock?" Valen repeated, testing the simplicity.
"Yeah! Good name, isn't it?" Rock grinned, teeth a shade too sharp. "Short, memorable, hard to forget. Here, take some more." He slid the serving dish closer with surprising strength.
Valen tasted the porridge. The honeyberries burst with balanced sweetness over nutty grain. "This is excellent."
"Automaton's good with temperature regulation." Rock nodded. "Anyway, they cleared the fog this morning, so you can actually see the main campus after classes. Makes navigation much easier for new students."
"They can control the fog?" Valen kept his tone neutral, but his attention sharpened. Environmental manipulation on this scale…
"Yeah, well, they installed it in the first place." Rock looked up, eyes glinting with amusement and mild warning. "You might not know about Formations yet—it's one of your fundamentals. There's a massive one covering the entire headquarters campus. They claim it's for detecting intruders, but…" He shrugged. "Who actually believes that?"
A formation large enough to cover this entire forest city. Valen filed the information carefully. Which means everything here—the fog, the atmospheric effects—could be artificially controlled.
"The real question," Rock continued, standing to clear his bowl, "is what else the formation does that they don't talk about."
Valen said nothing, but mentally added "research formations extensively" to his priority list.
"Complete your breakfast soon and head to the main hall in the tower," Rock advised. "All new students gather there for course assignment."
"Yes, senior."
"Oh, right! Today I'm leaving the main campus—research trip to the Labyrinth Campus." Rock gestured toward the kitchen where the brass automaton stood motionless. "Don't worry, I'm leaving Cooking Automaton Mark I here. Once you learn basic Ancient Praxian runes, you'll be able to control it yourself. Just don't try re-enchanting it until you've passed Enchanting fundamentals. Last student who tried that… well, let's just say the explosion was memorable."
Valen left the dorm mansion with the familiar mix of confusion and anticipation that seemed to define Academy life.
The campus had transformed overnight.
Without the concealing fog, the true scope of the grounds became apparent. It was an ancient city—or the skeleton of one. Mansions in varying states of preservation stretched in all directions, connected by overgrown pathways that suggested original planning now half-reclaimed by forest. Ivy draped stone facades. Trees grew through collapsed roofs. Yet some buildings looked recently maintained, windows glowing with magical light, smoke rising from functional chimneys.
Like a civilization that died and was partially resurrected, Valen thought, following the silhouette of a tall tower in the distance.
The tower dominated the skyline—easily twenty stories, built from dark stone that seemed to absorb light. Its architecture was wrong somehow, the proportions creating optical illusions that made it appear both closer and farther than it actually was.
As Valen approached, the grounds opened into a large clearing paved with ancient cobblestones.
What he found there wasn't what he'd expected.
The base of the tower had become a marketplace.
Dozens of makeshift stalls constructed from canvas tents filled the clearing, creating narrow alleyways between vendors. The crowd was a mix—older students in colored cloaks, common merchants hawking wares, and scattered clusters of new students identifiable by grey cloaks and wide-eyed expressions.
The soundscape struck first. Vendors calling out prices for Core Crystals, rare herbs, enchanted trinkets. Students haggling. The sizzle of street food prepared with Fire spells. Somewhere, an automaton demonstrated capabilities with mechanical precision while its creator shouted about "revolutionary efficiency improvements."
"Master, master!" Iris's voice chimed, barely containing excitement. "In one of those stalls, the main protagonist acquires a mysterious and powerful Soul Crystal that appears ordinary! It happens during the first week!"
Protagonist luck. Valen kept his expression neutral while navigating the crowd. "Let's not interfere with his destiny. The main character needs to be strong enough to handle the actual plot."
"Hehehe, I know! I'm just excited to be here!"
"Same." He allowed himself the ghost of a smile. "We can explore the stalls later. First, the notice boards."
He wove through the alleys with practiced efficiency and reached the tower's entrance. The base level was a massive hall—easily a hundred meters across—filled with administrative counters, information boards, and clusters of students receiving course assignments.
Inside, the architecture impressed more than the exterior. Vaulted ceilings stretched impossibly high, covered in slow-shifting murals that depicted magical theory through animated illustrations. Floating orbs of light drifted overhead like artificial stars. The floor was polished stone inlaid with metallic runes that pulsed with faint blue luminescence.
This feels like standing inside a machine, Valen observed, noting how every surface carried purpose beyond decoration.
He didn't push deeper into the administrative chaos. Iris—unseen—flitted through the space, recording, sorting notices, and presenting essentials on translucent screens only he could see.
Official notices and protocols:
Teleportation gates: access list available at Counter 1.
Dueling permitted only in designated areas.
Soul Crystal trading requires official documentation.
Unauthorized Formation tampering punishable by expulsion.
(...)
New students restricted to headquarters campus until passing the fundamentals examination.
Newer notices:
STIPEND NOTICE: New students receive one Core Crystal every ten days for the first year. Collect from Administration Counter 7.
Finally, some income, Valen thought.
TEXTBOOK DISTRIBUTION: Required texts available on Library First Floor. New students must collect within the first ten days.
Valen glanced upward. Through the open central shaft, multiple levels spiraled above—the tower library, vast enough to dwarf Duke Ashford's entire collection.
FUNDAMENTAL EXAMINATION REQUIREMENTS:
All new students must demonstrate competency in six core subjects and one optional subject:
Fundamentals of Spellcasting
Ancient Praxian Runes
Potioncraft and Hearbology Basics
Biology and Taming Magic Beasts
Formation Theory
Enchanting Fundamentals
Unarmed Combat Arts (optional)
Students who fail to pass the comprehensive examination after two years will be expelled.
Valen absorbed the information methodically. Six subjects. Most students take over a year to pass. Father expects me to do it in half while also learning Lightning Bolt.
Challenging, but not impossible—especially with Iris's Dream Learning.
He was leaning against a quieter stretch of wall, reviewing Iris's compiled summaries, when someone called out.
"Valentine Ashford?"
The voice was female, clear and direct, carrying the kind of authority that expected acknowledgment.
Valen looked up.
The young woman approaching him was taller than expected—meeting his eyes almost directly. Golden-blonde hair tied back in a braided ponytail.
She wore the standard Academy uniform—grey cloak, practical boots—but small modifications marked someone who had actually fought. Reinforced leather on the forearms. Fingerless gloves for spellcasting mobility. A well-maintained saber hung at her hip, the worn grip suggesting regular use rather than decoration.
Her eyes were the first thing he noticed: bright amber, sharp with intelligence—and challenge.
No. To be precise, her amber eyes carried a golden glow—not just color, but something magical.
She was trying to read him. To see through whatever façade he might be wearing.
Valen's face remained calm, analytical. There was nothing to hide; he simply observed her observing him, a symmetrical moment of mutual assessment.
After a heartbeat, her eyes dimmed. Frustration crossed her features, controlled and fleeting.
Princess Amber Lumis. The eye powers of the royal family.
"I am," Valen replied evenly. "How can I help you, Princess?"
Her expression flickered.
"Just Amber," she said—less humility than practicality. "Titles are distracting."
"Then just Valen."
They stood in silence, each measuring the other.
She's still evaluating me, Valen noted—the slight tilt of her head, weight balanced, stance ready. Looking for weakness or confirmation of expectations.
"I heard interesting things about you," Amber said at last. "Used a recommendation slot. Skipped the practical examination entirely. But you demonstrated something unprecedented during your family's advancement ceremony—large mana capacity, or maybe high regeneration rate, depending on the rumor."
Her tone was neutral, but the implication was clear: You avoided danger while I fought for my place. Now prove you deserve respect.
"The rumors exaggerate," Valen said calmly.
"I'd like to see it."
Direct. No pretense. Refreshing.
"Why?"
Amber's eyes narrowed slightly. "Because I'm curious whether you're another pampered noble coasting on connections—or if there's substance behind the reputation."
There it is. Valen kept his expression unchanged. "That sounds like a challenge."
"It is." Her hand didn't move toward the saber, but her posture shifted—readiness disguised as casual conversation. "The Academy has practice grounds. We're both new students. A friendly demonstration seems… appropriate."
Valen considered. Refusing would confirm her suspicions. Accepting meant showing cards he preferred to keep close.
But the directness appealed. No political games. Honest evaluation.
"The practice grounds were occupied when I passed them," Valen said.
Amber held his gaze for a long moment. "Let's go. We'll find a corner."
"I still need to pick up books."
"You can do that later," she said, already turning. "Come on."
They moved through the tower's hall and out into filtered daylight. The city-forest breathed around them—old stone, damp earth, leaves whispering above. The clang of practice steel and the distant crackle of spells grew clearer as they approached the training fields.
They rounded a hedge and the grounds opened in tiers: grounds with lose earth for duels, warded lanes for spell projection, reinforced targets bound in runes.
A crowd had already formed around the dueling area.
Amber stopped.
Valen followed her gaze.
Raylan and Cassian faced each other across scored sand.
Cassian moved first—fast, cutting angles with sharp, slashing offense that pressed for center control.
Raylan yielded a half-step, then another, heel drawing tight arcs as if measuring reach. When Cassian over-committed to close off Raylan's flank, Raylan took space back in a clean line and punished the opening with a precise thrust that forced a stagger and reset. Efficient. No theatrics.