Inside the towering halls of the Academy of Epponville, a council of elders gathered in the Hall of Inscriptions, a vast chamber lined with ancient engravings that pulsed with hidden power. The air was heavy with the scent of burning incense, and the flickering light of countless sigils cast shifting shadows on the polished stone walls.
These were the academy's highest-ranking figures—the true rulers of this domain. Each one carried an imposing presence, their robes embroidered with intricate inscriptions that shimmered faintly, signifying their mastery. Some bore scars from past battles, others radiated a scholarly aura, and a few had the sharp, piercing gazes of those accustomed to wielding authority.
At the center of it all, presiding over the gathering with an enigmatic silence, sat the Academy Leader. Draped in robes of deep obsidian with golden inscriptions tracing across the fabric like veins of molten power, he observed the debate with a cold detachment. His expression was unreadable, his posture relaxed yet exuding an undeniable pressure—like a storm that had yet to break.
Elder Gherron, a man with a hawk-like gaze and streaks of silver in his dark hair, was the first to speak. His sharp facial features seemed carved from stone, and his piercing eyes held a sense of absolute certainty. "Elias is the most extraordinary applicant we have seen in decades. His inscription control is beyond anything a mere youth should possess. His efficiency, his awareness… even among seasoned practitioners, he would stand at the top."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the chamber.
Elder Siana, seated beside him, crossed her long, shapely legs, her lips curving slightly in amusement. Unlike many of the older, hardened elders, she possessed an ethereal beauty that defied age. Her golden-blond hair cascaded in soft waves, framing a face with delicate yet striking features—high cheekbones, almond-shaped emerald eyes that gleamed with intelligence, and lips naturally curved in an almost teasing smirk.
Draped in deep crimson robes that clung to her form in just the right places, she had an effortless grace about her, a presence both seductive and commanding. When she spoke, her voice was smooth, almost hypnotic. "That much is obvious," she murmured, tapping her slender fingers against the armrest. "His power is undeniable. But what of his temperament?"
Elder Gherron's lips curled slightly. "Focused. Intelligent. Unshaken."
"Arrogant," a gravelly voice interjected. Elder Varkos, a bald man with a face lined with old scars, leaned forward. His bulky frame, thick arms crossed over his chest, exuded the aura of a battle-hardened warrior. His robes were more practical than ornate, and the inscription marks on his skin glowed faintly, evidence of countless battles fought and survived.
Elder Siana smirked, her gaze flickering toward Varkos with amusement. "Arrogance and confidence are two sides of the same coin. He is powerful enough to act as he pleases, and he knows it. That… is both promising and dangerous."
A tense silence followed.
Then—
"I offered him sponsorship."
The words dropped into the room like a stone into a still pond.
The tension sharpened instantly. Several elders turned toward the speaker, their gazes darkening.
Elder Rahim, a man with neatly tied silver hair and a composed demeanor, sighed heavily. "You what?" Unlike the others, his presence was calm, almost soothing—like a quiet river that ran deep. His sapphire-blue robes carried an air of wisdom, and the inscription talismans at his waist whispered softly as they swayed with his movements.
The one who had spoken—a younger elder by the name of Edvar—shifted slightly but did not shrink under their scrutiny. Unlike the other elders, who radiated either battle prowess or scholarly authority, Edvar was youthful, his short brown hair and sharp gaze betraying his ambitions. His robes bore fewer decorative inscriptions, yet there was a determination in his stance that could not be ignored.
"I met with Elias before the final trial," he admitted, his voice even. "I proposed that he become my personal disciple."
A stunned silence followed.
Then—
"You made an offer to a potential disciple without consulting us?" Elder Varkos's voice was cold as steel.
Elder Gherron's eyes narrowed dangerously. "And? What was his response?"
Edvar exhaled slowly. "He refused."
For a moment, there was only silence.
Then—
A burst of sharp laughter.
"Hah!" Elder Varkos grinned, shaking his head. "The boy is even more confident than I thought."
Elder Siana smirked slightly, shifting in her seat, the movement drawing more than a few glances. "So, he doesn't want guidance. He wants to carve his own path."
Elder Rahim, however, did not look amused. "That does not change the fact that Edvar acted outside protocol," he said firmly. "This academy has long agreed that no offers of discipleship should be made until after the first trial is complete. You broke that tradition."
Edvar's jaw tightened. "I saw a talent unlike any other. I acted."
"And he denied you," Elder Siana murmured, amusement lacing her voice. "That must have stung."
Edvar remained silent.
As the discussion grew more heated, the Academy Leader remained silent. His presence loomed over them all, an unspoken force that none dared to challenge. He had not spoken a single word, but his gaze rested on each of them, absorbing everything.
What was he thinking?
None could tell.
* * * * * *
Two days later
The grand hall of the Academy of Epponville was a vast, circular chamber with towering pillars engraved with ancient symbols. Faint glows of inscriptions shimmered along the walls, illuminating the space in a soft golden hue. Hundreds of students sat in silence, their expressions a mix of awe and anticipation. They had survived the grueling entrance trial, and now, they sat before one of the highest authorities in the academy—Elder Alhazir.
At the center of the hall, seated upon a raised stone platform, was the Elder himself. He was an elderly man, his face lined with deep wrinkles, yet his presence was anything but frail. His eyes gleamed with profound wisdom, and his robes, embroidered with intricate inscriptions, radiated an invisible pressure that weighed on everyone present. Even the most arrogant among them knew better than to disrespect him.
He sat cross-legged, his hands resting lightly on his knees, surveying the gathered students with a piercing gaze. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice carrying the weight of centuries.
"You are no longer ordinary people. By stepping into this academy, you have entered the world of Ingraving Masters. But do you truly understand what that means?"
Silence stretched across the hall.
Then, a voice spoke up hesitantly. "We… we engrave inscriptions onto materials and use them for power?"
A small chuckle escaped the Elder's lips. "That is the surface of it. But power is never so simple." His gaze swept over them before he continued.
"The world you live in today was not always ours. Long ago, countless races roamed the land, each wielding power beyond imagination. Some were giants who towered over mountains, others were beasts that carried the storms themselves. Among them were those who, like us, wielded Ingravings."
A ripple of unease passed through the students. They always assumed that humans were the natural rulers of the world, but from the Elder's words, it seemed that was not the case.
"The Great War changed everything. It lasted for millions of years, a conflict that shook the very heavens. Many races were annihilated, others fled into hiding, and some were assimilated into our civilization. In the end, humanity stood victorious—not because we were the strongest, but because we adapted, we endured, and we conquered. Those who remained became scattered remnants, shadows of their former glory. Yet even now, hidden in the dark corners of the world, they exist."
His words left a lingering chill in the air.
"So do not think of them as mere myths," he warned. "And do not be foolish enough to assume humanity has no enemies left."
A murmur spread among the students. Were those remnants still a threat? And if so, why had no one seen them in modern times?
The Elder continued, "We, humans, stand above all creatures. And yet, power itself does not belong to us alone. The inscriptions we use—the Ingravings—are the essence of heaven and earth itself. They exist everywhere, hidden within the soil, woven into the air, even embedded into the bodies of wild beasts."
A few students exchanged glances. Some had seen beasts with natural engravings before, but they had always assumed those were rare occurrences.
"Ingravings are not tools," the Elder continued. "They are forces of nature, ancient and eternal. The first humans who walked this land did not create them; they only discovered how to use them. And from there, scholars across generations unraveled their mysteries, refining them, commanding them, and bending them to our will. Thus, the path of the Ingraving Master was born."
He gestured to the inscriptions carved into the pillars around them. "Everywhere you walk in this academy, you step upon history itself. You are inheriting the knowledge of those before you."
"Now, let us speak of what you are." His voice grew sharper. "Ingraving Masters are divided into ten ranks, from the weakest to the strongest—Rank One to Rank Ten. You all, regardless of your backgrounds or achievements, are Rank One."
Some students flinched at the bluntness of his words. Even Elias, who sat near the front, remained silent, his golden eyes reflecting nothing.
"The first rank is the beginning. It is where all great Ingraving Masters started. But do not be mistaken—advancement is not easy. The gap between each rank is vast, and each step forward is a challenge few can overcome."
A student raised his hand hesitantly. "Elder, what happens if we fail to advance?"
The Elder's gaze hardened. "Then you will remain stagnant. Those who cannot advance will either leave the academy or serve in lesser roles. There is no place here for those without ambition."
A heavy silence followed. Some students clenched their fists. Others paled.
"One last thing," the Elder added. "Strength alone does not define your worth. A Rank Three with no knowledge is still weaker than a Rank One with mastery. The true measure of an Ingraving Master is not in raw power, but in understanding."
His gaze settled on them one final time. "And so, I will ask you again—do you truly understand what it means to walk this path?"
The hall remained silent.
This was just the beginning.
* * *
There will be an additional chapter in a few minutes.