Hours later—
The enchanted bells rang.
Their sound was deep. Ancient.
Not the kind that came from university towers,
but the kind that felt like it was torn from the heart of a mountain.
Students flooded in.
The Grand Hall of the Academy opened like the mouth of a myth.
It was vast—so vast that voices vanished before they could return.
Its floor was polished black marble, dark as obsidian, gleaming like a mirror to another world beneath their feet.
Every step, every shadow, reflected back in distorted silence.
The walls were pure white, immaculate, draped in deep crimson banners.
At the heart of each banner burned the Academy's sigil:
A majestic lion's head,
clenching two flaming arrows in its jaws—
arrows pointing in opposite directions,
as if locked in an eternal conflict between forces that would never reconcile.
And the ceiling—
There was no ceiling.
Only a towering hollow dome stretching impossibly high, painted with scenes that refused immediate understanding:
Winged beasts with shattered feathers.
Kings kneeling before faceless shadows.
Rivers of light pouring through blackened skies.
Heroes without faces.
As if the hall itself remembered a history no one dared to tell.
At the front stood a podium carved from dark blackwood—
wood that looked as though it had drunk blood and smoke over centuries.
More than a thousand students filled the hall.
All for one reason.
The new student.
The one rumored to have faced the claw of a defiled demon-beast—
and broken it.
Unharmed.
The whispers began softly…
then spread like an infection.
"He must be incredibly handsome," a girl murmured, hugging her book to her chest.
"And insanely powerful. Miracles like that don't just happen."
A well-built boy crossed his arms confidently.
"No. He has to be massive. Terrifyingly strong. The kind of presence that cuts like a blade."
A girl with silver-rimmed round glasses adjusted them dreamily.
"I bet he's like the heroes in novels. Perfect muscles. A striking face. Eyes that make you believe in him instantly."
The whispers grew.
Expectations piled higher and higher—
Until the image stopped being human
and became a legend.
Gradually, the murmurs focused.
On one boy.
Tall. Broad-shouldered.
Jet-black hair like a moonless night.
Clear blue eyes, sharp as a sky after a storm.
Kyle.
Someone leaned closer and whispered,
"Kyle… what do you think he'll be like?"
Kyle paused.
His blue eyes drifted to the podium, the hall, the painted sky above.
A gentle, sincere smile formed on his lips.
"I don't know," he said quietly.
Then, as if it were obvious—
"But he must be amazing."
Somewhere outside the hall,
Rolin—
had he heard that—
Would have laughed bitterly.
Because legends
rarely resemble the truth.
---
The Headmistress stepped onto the black podium.
Her footsteps were light—yet the hall fell silent instantly.
She was a young woman, barely in her early thirties.
Wavy brown hair fell neatly over her shoulders, disciplined but effortless.
Her pale skin was flawless, and her eyes—
Dark.
Dark enough to resemble the black marble beneath them.
Cold. Deep.
Eyes that saw far more than they should.
Her clothing was strange—neither academic nor noble—
yet it suited her perfectly.
As though the laws of the world had bent slightly to accommodate her presence.
She placed her hands on the podium and raised her head.
"Welcome," she said calmly.
Her voice cut through the hall like a blade.
"We are gathered today to welcome a most exceptional student."
Breaths caught.
"Despite his young age," she continued,
"he survived the Mountains of Earthy—"
A ripple of shock spread.
"And not only that—
he saved a young child from certain death."
Whispers intensified.
"But more than that—"
Her tone never changed.
"He killed a defiled beast of the Crusher class."
Silence.
"A creature capable of erasing entire squads…"
She paused.
"…without receiving a single wound."
The hall erupted.
"That's impossible—"
"A Crusher without injury?!"
"What kind of monster is he?!"
Even Kyle's eyes widened.
The Headmistress raised one hand.
Silence obeyed.
A faint smile curved her lips—
not warm, but knowing.
"By direct decision of the Academy Council…"
She turned toward the massive side doors.
"Allow me to present—"
Time stopped.
The doors creaked open.
And Rolin stepped inside.
---
The students expected a giant.
A towering youth carved from myth.
A heroic figure straight out of legend.
Instead—
A frail boy entered.
His body was thin—alarmingly so.
Narrow shoulders.
A posture that wavered, like he didn't belong here at all.
His hair was sandy blond, dull and messy, as though the wind had styled it.
His skin was pale—too pale.
As if sunlight had forgotten him.
He was slightly short.
Not enough to mock—
just enough to disappoint.
And his eyes—
Faded gold.
Not radiant.
Not powerful.
Just tired.
The hall froze.
Then—
"This is him?"
"No way."
"They must have the wrong person."
A girl whispered bluntly,
"…Ugly."
Someone snorted.
"If the wind blows, he might fall over."
Kyle didn't laugh.
He stared.
Not at the body.
But at those faded golden eyes.
At something hidden.
On the podium, the Headmistress let the whispers spread.
Then she smiled.
"Welcome your new peer," she announced.
"Rolin Azir."
The name fell like a stone into still water.
Rolin stood frozen, swallowed by a thousand stares.
He bowed—short, awkward—
as if apologizing for existing.
Inside his head—
I know that look.
I thought I'd be working with someone impressive too.
Turns out you're just a pathetic lump of meat.
Rolin clenched his jaw.
"Shut up!"
The word exploded from his mouth.
Silence slammed down.
The Headmistress slowly raised a brow.
"Is there a problem, Mr. Azir?"
Rolin wanted the floor to eat him alive.
"N—No, Headmistress," he stammered.
"I was… practicing mental focus."
She stared.
Then smiled faintly.
"How fascinating."
---
Later—
"Would you like to say a few words to your peers?"
Rolin's mind went blank.
A speech?!
Inside him—
Leave it to me.
"No—wait—"
Too late.
A deep, confident voice echoed through the hall.
"Listen carefully."
All eyes snapped to him.
"I will crush every single one of you spoiled bastards."
Deathly silence.
The Headmistress' eyes darkened.
"…Interesting."
Rolin's soul resigned.
The girl with gray eyes—
Smiled.
Dangerously.
Inside him—
See? She liked it.
"…I'm going to kill you."
Later, then.
Rolin sank into his seat.
First day.
First words.
War declared.
And somewhere deep inside—
Laughter echoed.