The sensation was instant.
One moment, I was outside. The next, I was standing in a vast, impossibly grand chamber.
The sheer scale of it defied comprehension. The chamber stretched far into the distance, its edges blurred by enchantments, making it impossible to tell where it truly ended. Towering pillars of polished obsidian and gleaming silver soared toward the ceiling, their surfaces engraved with intricate, shifting glyphs that pulsed with an internal glow. Each symbol twisted and reformed in mesmerizing patterns. The walls, woven with veins of crystal and enchanted filigree, shimmered as if they contained the essence of the night sky itself. Galaxies seemed to swirl beneath the surface, nebulae shifting with a slowness that suggested unfathomable depth. I can swear I saw stars flicker into existence, or wink out forever.
A colossal dome of transparent crystal stretched overhead, revealing a sky that refused to obey logic. Clouds of energy drifted through the heavens, shifting from deep violet to shimmering gold, from the black void of space to the warm hues of a distant sunset. Moons, plural, hung in impossible alignment, casting their ethereal glow over the room.
This was just a waiting hall.
And yet, it already felt like it was beyond anything I could have imagined.
Nearly two hundred students filled the space, scattered in loose groups, their conversations threading through the air like a symphony of emotions. Some stood in tight-knit clusters, whispering with barely contained excitement, eyes alight with anticipation. Others sat alone, adjusting the folds of their uniforms with restless hands, fingers twitching as if already eager to cast their first spell. And then, there were those who carried themselves with grace, their posture poised, their expressions carefully unreadable as they observed the room with practiced detachment. They did not fidget. They did not murmur. They only watched, evaluating, deciding who was worth their time.
And then there were the outliers.
The ones who drew whispers. The ones who turned heads. The ones who had names already known before the semester had even begun.
I walked slowly, letting the words of passing conversations drift through my mind, each whisper a brushstroke on the ever-growing canvas of mystery that was Arcanis.
"That's the heir of House Astrelis… I've heard his magic is strong enough to bend gravity itself."
"That girl over there, she's from the Crescent Isles. They say she tamed a sea leviathan at thirteen."
"Look, it's the son of the Grand Magister!"
Everywhere I turned, there was someone abnormal.
I swallowed hard.
What the hell am I doing here?
If I told any of these people I had beaten Elias Aurellian in a duel, they'd probably laugh in my face.
As if on cue, the air shifted.
A sudden wave of silence rippled through the chamber.
The change was immediate. The already low murmurs dropped further, students turning, shifting, giving way as the young man strode through the hall with purposeful silence. His silver hair, neatly tied back, seemed to catch the ethereal glow of the hall, giving it an almost metallic sheen. His robes, a deep midnight black lined with thread-like veins of enchanted silver, moved like liquid shadow around him. But it wasn't his appearance that made the chamber feel suddenly smaller, sharper, it was the way he carried himself.
Not like a student.
Not even like a prodigy.
Like a weapon, drawn but not yet swung.
The whispers surged.
"That's Soren Valdris… the youngest combat prodigy of the last decade."
"They say he mastered five combat styles before the age of sixteen."
"He's a top contender to be this year's strongest student."
I took a step back instinctively.
This guy is on another level.
Before the whispers could settle, another figure stepped in.
Elias Aurellian.
The moment his name rippled through the crowd, the air shifted again.
It was different from Soren's entrance. Where Soren commanded a cold, sharp respect, Elias drew awe.
He moved through the hall with the kind of ease that couldn't be taught, the grace of someone who had never needed to force his way forward. His silver eyes, a shade deeper than his hair, scanned the room lazily, amusement flickering behind them, as if the entire gathering were a private joke only he understood. There was no tension in his stance, no need to prove himself.
The whispers swelled again.
"It's him… the undefeated duelist of House Aurellian."
"They say he's never lost a single match in his life…"
Then, he stopped.
And very slowly, he turned.
His gaze landed on me.
A heartbeat of silence.
Then, with the slightest tilt of his head, he nodded.
A small grin, barely there, just enough to be intentional.
And in that instant, the air around me shifted.
The hushed murmurs returned, but now they were about me.
"Wait… did he just…?"
"Who the hell is that guy?!"
I stiffened.
Fantastic.
Great. Now I'm getting even more attention.
Before I could slip away, someone stepped into my space.
"Well. That was interesting."
A boy, slightly shorter than me, with messy brown hair and the kind of expression that made it impossible to tell if he was serious or just perpetually confused.
"You got some kind of history with Elias?" he asked.
I hesitated. "...We met before."
His eyes widened slightly. "Oh? How'd that go?"
"Poorly."
He snorted. "Sounds about right."
There was something disarming about the way he said it. No mockery, no curiosity laced with hidden intentions. Just a simple, unfiltered acknowledgment, as if he already knew exactly what dealing with Elias Aurellian was like.
"Anyway, name's Finn."
"Asher," I replied cautiously.
Finn grinned, a sharp, foxlike thing that hinted at mischief. "Nice to meet you, Asher. I get the feeling we're gonna be at the bottom of the barrel together, so might as well stick together."
I narrowed my eyes. "You assume I'm going to be at the bottom?"
He shrugged, completely unbothered. "I can smell an underdog when I see one."
Before I could argue, the chamber crackled with energy.
A figure stood at the far end of the chamber, draped in flowing black and silver robes, his very presence crackling with raw power. Lightning coiled at his fingertips, arcing up his arms like living veins of energy. His presence alone carried the weight of authority, as if the very air bent to his command. His golden eyes flickered with something ancient, something boundless.
When he spoke, it was not loud. It didn't have to be. The words resonated, sinking into bone, vibrating through the space like they belonged to the very structure of reality itself.
"Welcome to Arcanis."
Silence fell, absolute and undisturbed.
"You stand at the threshold of the greatest magical academy in existence."
A pause.
"It is an honor for you to be here. But know this, Arcanis does not simply accept students."
His gaze sharpened.
"You must earn your place."
The words struck like a challenge, an unspoken promise of trials ahead.
A ripple of tension spread through the gathered students, uncertainty and excitement warring in their eyes.
A boy standing near the front, either braver or stupider than the rest, lifted a hand.
"Excuse me, Professor, when do w…."
The professor's gaze fell upon him, a glacial weight that stripped the warmth from the air, colder than winter's final breath
"Now."
And the world exploded into chaos.