Roy woke at exactly seven in the morning—the very minute the academy's daily schedule officially began. His eyes opened as if pulled by a string, pupils adjusting to the faint morning light leaking through the dorm window. For a heartbeat, he didn't know where he was. A cold jolt rippled through his chest, the residue of a dream that he had not fully escaped from yet—the same one that revisited him every night, dragging him back to the burning memory of his parents' lifeless bodies… and the imagined slaughter of his clan, though he had never witnessed it.
Before he could gather his thoughts, he noticed a face only inches from his own.
A face with an inexplicable grin.
Messy brown hair that looked like it had waged war with a pillow and lost.
Half-lidded eyes that made the expression neither friendly nor threatening, but… mischievous.
Too mischievous.
Sam.
Roy didn't process the name quickly enough.
His instincts moved first.
In one fluid motion, he summoned his spirit weapon—its form appearing instantly as a long, luminous blade—then swung directly at Sam's neck.
Sam jerked backward with surprising reflexes, bending so far his back nearly touched the opposite bedframe.
Roy didn't stop. The dream still clung to his skin like sweat—screams, fire, blood—so he shifted the blade into the crescent curve of a reaper's scythe, its arc sweeping toward Sam's throat again, this time only two centimeters from carving through it.
And then—
Reality hit him.
Sam.
This was Sam.
The idiot roommate.
Not an assassin.
Not a specter of his memories.
Roy froze the weapon in place, his breathing sharp and uneven. He forced the scythe to dissolve back into light, returning to its dormant place within his soul.
But in the second before it vanished, he sensed something.
A faint pulse—like a spark pressing against the air.
Aether.
Something glowing in Sam's hand.
Then it was gone—as if it had never existed.
Sam straightened, pressing a hand dramatically to his chest, his lips curling into an exaggerated, wounded frown.
"Really, Roy?" he said with a theatrical sigh. "Trying to kill me this early in the morning? Our friendship had so much potential…"
Roy exhaled slowly, rubbing his forehead. A tired smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Don't sneak up on people like that," he muttered and swung his legs off the bed. "Come on. We've got lessons to get through."
Sam's mood flipped instantly.
As usual.
He practically hopped after Roy with the energy of a child seeing a festival for the first time.
"Wait for me! You can't just leave alone—what happened to teamwork? Brotherhood? Emotional support between handsome young men?"
Roy ignored him, but the corner of his mouth lifted again despite himself.
He had never had a friend like this.
In either life.
---
The academy campus buzzed with morning activity when they arrived at the first lecture hall—a building of pale stone and tall windows that caught the early sunlight. A massive map near the entrance showed the day's classroom layout, so they studied it briefly before heading to the large wooden double doors, This was a whole day of culture lessons only, Such as history, science and basic mathematics.
But the moment they walked in, the chatter inside the hall cut off.
It was unnerving how fast it happened.
Dozens of students—first years, all of them—froze mid-conversation. Some stared. Others whispered behind palms. A few exchanged glances heavy with unspoken meaning.
Sam walked one step behind Roy, and Roy noticed—just for a heartbeat—a flicker of irritation crease Sam's brow. But the expression vanished almost instantly, replaced again with the same carefree smile.
Roy made his way toward two empty seats near the middle.
But as soon as the pair sat down—
The students sitting nearby stood up and moved away.
Not subtly.
Not quietly.
Just… decided to leave.
Roy frowned. Confusion—and a small sting of annoyance—pricked inside him.
He leaned slightly toward Sam.
"Sam, what's happening? Why are they acting like this? Why are they talking about us?"
Sam lowered his head immediately.
"I'm… sorry, Roy."
His voice was low, almost guilty.
He didn't lift his gaze.
"Maybe you'll end up a pariah too. Because of me. If you move away quickly, maybe you can avoid it. They probably haven't labeled you yet. There's still time."
Roy blinked, baffled.
"Pariah? What are you talking about?"
Sam lifted his eyes slowly, studying Roy's confused expression as if trying to decide whether he was being honest.
"You really… don't know?"
"Know what? I have no idea what this is," Roy replied, frustrated.
Sam released a long breath and finally began explaining.
"I don't know who I am," he said quietly. "Or what clan I come from. The only thing I do know is that the clan must have been strong. But nobles here… they don't care about strength alone. They care about lineage. About name. About blood."
His fingers curled slightly in his lap.
"And because I lost mine—my parents, my family, everything—I became… no one. Without a clan name, they treat me like I'm lower than common-born. Like I'm dirt. A stray. So they avoid me. Whisper about me. Make sure everyone knows I don't belong."
He swallowed hard.
"…And if you stay near me, they'll avoid you too. You can leave now. I won't blame you."
Sam turned his face away, shoulders tense—not in anger, but in resignation.
It was clear he'd delivered that speech before.
Probably many times.
Roy looked at him for a moment.
This boy—who smiled like life didn't faze him—had been carrying that weight every day.
Roy exhaled softly.
"Sam," he said, his voice steady. "Maybe I'm also… without a clan. Without a name. So whether I stay or go? It won't change anything."
Sam didn't react at first.
Roy continued, "You're not the one who's pariah. We are."
Two seconds passed.
Three.
Then Sam's head shot up.
His eyes shimmered with something that looked like shock… then relief… then his usual brightness, magnified.
A wide grin stretched across his face.
"I knew it! The moment I saw you, Roy—I just knew you were a good guy. It was written all over your face."
He punched Roy lightly on the shoulder, playful as always.
Roy returned the smile.
A strange warmth spread through his chest.
Not something he felt often.
Not something he even recognized at first.
But it felt… good.
So this is what it's like, he thought.
My first friend.
---
The rest of the morning passed quietly after that, though the room kept its distance. Students whispered, but Roy no longer cared. Sam chatted as if nothing in the world could trouble him, bouncing between jokes, sarcastic commentary, and random thoughts that made no sense but somehow filled the space with color.
For the first time since arriving in this kingdom… Roy felt the smallest sense of belonging.
A fragile thread.
But real.
When lunch ended and classes wrapped up, Roy walked back to the dorms side by side with Sam. The sun dipped lower behind the academy walls, casting long shadows across the paved courtyard. Sam talked endlessly—mostly about the girls in their year, their beauty rankings, and his very complicated theories on why blondes were secretly dangerous.
Roy listened in silence, but he didn't mind the noise.
The company felt… right.
When they reached Room 116, Sam stretched like a cat and flopped onto his bed.
"That was a long day. I'm mentally exhausted. Spiritually traumatized. Emotionally unstable. I think I'll need three hours of rest just to smile again."
Roy shook his head, amused.
"I'm going to sleep," he said simply.
"Sweet dreams, roommate number one," Sam replied, already half-buried under blankets.
Roy lay down, letting the exhaustion wash over him.
Tomorrow would be the official start of training, classes, and real combat.
A new life.
A new path.
And maybe, for the first time in two lives…
A friend by his side.
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Guys, I will post two more chapters, but i need some hours, after that the chapters will be here, iam working on it, enjoy that, bye.