Rayden and his dad followed the two students down a long, polished corridor that led to the academy grounds. As they walked, Rayden's eyes wandered across the massive open space surrounded by towering structures. A symbol of fire hovered above the tallest tower, burning gently, never fading.
Flareborn Academy was split into four levels. The first was Ember Class—where students learned how to control mana. It was the beginning stage, and most students started here with shaky hands and unsure hearts. Then came Spark Class in the second year. That's where students were taught how to fight and cast spells with real force. After that was Flame Class, filled with elite students, often selected for outside missions. The final and highest was Inferno Class, the fourth year. By then, most students were already stronger than regular soldiers.
Aside from year levels, students were ranked by power. It went from Bronze, Silver, Gold, Crimson, and the rarest—Onyx. Only one student had ever reached Onyx in the past fifty years. His name was Aether Vanth, a legend and now a war hero. Every student wore a cloak showing their rank color. Rayden hadn't received his yet.
The two students finally brought them to five figures standing near the central tower. The Disciplinary Squad. They acted like campus guards, strict and sharp. One of them, a girl with short red hair, looked at Damon with wide eyes.
"Isn't he… He's the..." she muttered, trying to remember.
A boy beside her, arms crossed, clicked his tongue and spoke with a frown. "Yeah. The Black Sun Magus. Whatever, let's keep moving."
Rayden flinched. His steps grew stiff. He turned slightly, his eyes narrowing at the guy who just disrespected his dad. Damon saw it and gently placed a hand in front of Rayden, shaking his head. Rayden sighed and looked down.
As they walked, the red-haired girl's eyes stayed on Damon. She kept asking questions. Her voice was light, full of excitement. Rayden couldn't stand it. He sighed again, this time with more weight in his chest.
Why's she acting like she found treasure? He thought to himself.
Suddenly she asked, "Can I take a picture with you?"
Damon chuckled softly. "Yeah, sure."
She moved close, too close. It looked almost like she was clinging to him, like they were together. Rayden's jaw dropped. He stepped forward with a sharp glare and cleared his throat.
"Excuse me, miss. We're here for me to join the academy. Not to take photos with my dad."
The girl froze. Her face turned pink, and she backed away quickly. She made a small annoyed sound, but didn't say anything else. She walked ahead without looking back. Damon looked at Rayden for a second, surprised. He didn't say anything either.
Just then, Damon's phone buzzed. He looked down. It was his company. The call was important. Still, he hesitated. He had wanted to be here a little longer with his son.
Rayden noticed and smiled. "You can go, Dad."
Damon stayed still, unsure. But finally, he nodded. "Take care of yourself," he said and handed over the last of Rayden's things.
Rayden took off his glasses. He was wearing a plain round-neck shirt and jeans, nothing flashy.
"Hey, you. Come on, let's go," one of the guys in the squad called out.
Rayden grabbed his backpack and ran up to them.
The main hall was loud with life. Students moved around in groups, spells glowing in the air, swords clashing in nearby training zones. It was busy and bright. Magic buzzed everywhere.
The Disciplinary Squad led Rayden in and waved briefly, except for the same arrogant guy. He just scoffed and turned away.
Rayden stepped forward. He could feel the weight of every stare landing on him.
"Who's the stray?" a girl whispered behind him.
"Whoa, he's rich! Look at his watch! His shoes—those are Jordans!" a boy laughed.
"Please, he probably picked that out of the trash. His hair's a mess," another girl added with a sneer.
Rayden heard it all, but his face didn't change. He kept walking.
He wasn't here to make friends.
He was here to survive.
Rayden turned slowly, his eyes scanning the groups scattered across the massive hall. Everyone had already found somewhere to belong. First-year students gathered in little circles, some already laughing and talking like old friends. He stood there—alone—right in the middle, unsure of where to go. His hands gripped the straps of his backpack tightly. His chest rose and fell with a silent breath.
Just then, a soft voice cut through the air.
"Hey, new guy! You, yeah you! Come here."
Rayden blinked and looked around. His eyes landed on a girl standing a short distance away. She wore a long, elegant dress that shimmered slightly under the lights. A red band wrapped around her wrist, and a simple white mask covered the lower half of her face, leaving only her eyes visible—bright blue and clear, almost like glass. Her hand was still raised, waving him over.
He hesitated. Was she really calling him? Someone like her, calling someone like him? Even though he was considered handsome—sharp jawline, soft skin, and his dark messy hair falling over his forehead—he was weak. He knew it, and maybe that was why he still doubted himself.
The girl smiled gently. "You," she said again, voice low but sweet, and pointed directly at him.
Rayden swallowed the lump in his throat and walked toward her, a bit slow, awkward even. "Hi," he said, trying to sound calm. "I'm Rayden."
Her eyes crinkled with a smile behind the mask. "I'm Aria."
He returned the smile, small and unsure. "Where... where is everyone supposed to be grouped?"
Aria turned a bit and pointed behind her. "Here is for the first-year students. You'll stand with us for now. They'll announce our classes soon and give us our cloaks."
Rayden tilted his head slightly. "Cloaks?"
"Yeah," she said, nodding. "Every student at Flareborn wears a cloak that shows their rank color. Bronze, silver, gold, crimson, and onyx. It makes it easy to tell who's where. You'll get yours once they assign us."
He nodded slowly, still trying to take it all in.
But then, the atmosphere shifted.
The buzz in the hall dropped to silence. Footsteps echoed down the polished floor. A heavy presence filled the air.
The principal had arrived.
Everyone turned toward the center pathway as a tall man with deep red hair and striking golden eyes stepped forward. His long black coat swayed behind him. His face was hard, unreadable, like it had never known a smile. He didn't speak for a second. Just scanned the first-years like he was weighing their worth.
Finally, his voice boomed. "First-year students. Your names will be pasted on the board beside each classroom. Your class is based on your entrance score and initial mana rank. Report to your assigned room immediately."
"YES SIR!" the students shouted in unison, almost instinctively.
The moment he left, the noise returned like a wave crashing back into the sea.
Aria turned to Rayden again, a bit more relaxed now. "Hey, come with me. Let's check if we're in the same class."
Rayden opened his mouth to answer but paused. He glanced down at his backpack. "Oh. Can I drop my stuff somewhere first?"
She nodded. "Yeah, just place it by the bench near the wall. I'll go ahead and check. Don't take too long, okay?"
He gave a small nod. "Alright. I'll be right behind you."
She smiled under her mask and turned away, disappearing into the crowd.
Rayden watched her go, then looked at the groups again. His mind was racing. Would his name even be up there? He hadn't trained like the others. He didn't come from a famous magic family. His dad was the former Black Sun Magus, but Rayden had never awakened a proper elemental gift. His power was unstable.
Still, he forced his feet to move.
He walked to the board and scanned each paper—Class 1D. Nothing. 1C. Still nothing. 1B… not there either.
His stomach sank.
But just as he was about to walk away, someone came and pinned a fresh paper on the board. He leaned in closer. His eyes widened.
There it was.
Rayden Ashen. Class 1A.
He stared at the name again, just to be sure. He didn't know how or why he got placed in the top class, but he wasn't going to question it now. He stepped toward the hallway that led to Class 1A and opened the door.
Only twelve students were seated inside, all with bronze cloaks folded neatly on their desks. They turned to look at him the second he entered. The air grew thick with tension.
"Who's that?" one of them whispered.
"Must be some rich kid," another said, eyeing his clean sneakers and sharp clothes.
Rayden's jaw tensed. This was exactly why he hated dressing up. His dad had insisted on decent clothes, but now it just made him stand out even more.
He ignored them and walked to the back, choosing a seat by the window. He dropped his bag quietly and sat down, trying not to let the stares bother him.
Then, without warning, the voice from the academy speaker echoed through the class.
"Rayden Ashen. Report immediately."
The whole class turned toward him again. He froze.
Before he could react, the door opened. A tall man in a grey cloak stepped inside. His face was emotionless, and his badge showed he was a Trialkeeper.
"You. With me. Now."
Rayden didn't have time to speak. The Trialkeeper grabbed him firmly by the arm and pulled him out of the room like he was some criminal.
Students murmured behind him. Some laughed. Others stared in confusion.
Rayden didn't fight it, but his eyes narrowed.
What the hell was going on?