The Golden boy
Rain had been doing well so far and only a few candidates remained and Irene stood watching it all unfold until at last Rain had defeated the last of his opponents but he still had one more and this dawned on him too late. Irene was unfit for desert travel as if her Uud was conditioned for cool environment, how could he overlook such an important detail.
Without notice the ice spear pierced him from behind, and all he saw was Irene transforming to a beautiful girl with golden hair and blue eyes. "You fell for it again, consider this your one weakness...Rain!"
The look in her eyes was familiar and Rain instantly knew the identity of his assailant "Lira! why?"
"My name isn't Lira, its been a while Elf of Midgard" She mocked him.
Then a voice rang out through the colosseum:
That concludes the general exam. Rain of Midgard had defeated all candidates of the general exam but failed to identify the imposter Princess Eleanor from the special entrance exam thus he has failed to complete the hidden condition for phase three of the exam. Candidate No. 388 has passed at first place for the entrance exam thus he will take the last seat of the Royal class, the fourteen candidates will be part of the noble class and all the rest will be of the common class. This concludes the Alfheim Academy entrance exam.
Rain's body still ached, the cold burn of the ice spear lingering in his back. But the pain wasn't what overwhelmed him as he watched the princess walk away, it was the memories.
Her golden hair shimmered like it did on that night years ago at the tavern, when laughter had filled the room and Rain had felt warmth for the first time in years. She had leaned over a plate of sweet bread, giggling over his war exploits. "Elf of Midgard" she had whispered then. And now, all these years later, she had pierced him with the same smile... and an ice spear.
He was still dazed when the medical officers reached him, urging him to lie down. He waved them off stubbornly, but his knees betrayed him. As he stumbled out of the colosseum, strong hands steadied him, and voices spoke in hurried concern.
Then, darkness.
Rain woke in a grand, golden-lit chamber with walls of floating scrolls and glowing runes. A tall man with a mane of white hair and a beard braided with golden wire sat cross-legged behind a spiraling stone desk, surrounded by books and crystal orbs.
The old man was waiting. Dramatically.
"You stink of Enoch's teachings," he said without looking up.
Rain stood straight. His shirt was torn, stained, but his eyes were calm. "Yes... sir. He is my first teacher."
Grandmaster Einricht looked up and burst into laughter. His voice echoed like thunder through the chamber.
"A student of my best friend is a dear student of mine!" he shouted, pointing at Rain. "If you ever need anything, just talk to me, Golden Boy!"
Rain blinked. "Golden... boy?"
Einricht stood and strode toward him with surprising agility for a man his age. "You're the spitting image of your mother. And your talent for fighting, it's a copy of your father. The moment I saw you on the coliseum, I knew it."
Rain's heart thudded. He felt heat bloom in his chest. He took a step forward.
"You know who my parents were?"
Einricht's smile softened into something kind and knowing. "Are, not were. Your parents are alive. Very much so. But their circumstances…" He sighed. "Make it difficult to claim you as their own."
Rain's eyes darted down, his thoughts spinning. But Einricht placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Walk with me."
The doors of the office swung open and the two stepped into the winding, high halls of the Academy's upper terraces. The air smelled of parchment and power. Rain took it all in, the floating bridges, towers sculpted from marble and light, students flying on paper cranes, dueling with illusions, and casting spells with ease.
This," Einricht gestured proudly, "is the Royal Class wing. Reserved for Alfheims best talents and others from the various continents of Helios, and now... for you."
They passed classrooms filled with glowing boards, meditation pools, private libraries, and sparring arenas built into floating platforms. Rain couldn't help but feel like he was dreaming.
"Everything you see," Einricht continued, "is built to challenge the limits of those who've already surpassed expectations. You've entered a world of prodigies, Rain. But you belong here."
They came to a grand set of double doors carved from blue obsidian, with a symbol of twelve stars orbiting a sun etched in gold.
Einricht stopped.
"This is your homeroom. The Royal Class."
Rain stared at the doors, unsure what he felt. Behind them were the nobility of the elves, the future of Helios... and the girl who had both betrayed him.
"Are you ready?" the Grandmaster asked.
Rain didn't answer. He took a breath, stepped forward and pushed open the doors.
A room full of nobles. Rain could smell the perfume of wealth, the lacquered pride thick in the air. His steps faltered for just a moment. This isn't a battlefield, he told himself. It's worse. He was still the boy who had once scrubbed floors in Sarsgaard's ship, the boy who watched from behind bars as aristocrats laughed over gold they'd never earned. The boy who once flinched at loud voices. Who was taught that his name meant nothing.
Now, here he stood...cloaked in silence, his silver hair catching the light beside the most powerful man in the Academy.
And the only thing ringing in his head louder than fear... was her name.
"Lira... why did you change it? Your name and appearance"
The Royal Class homeroom opened into a towering amphitheater of stone and crystal. Shelves of grimoires circled the walls, and twelve floating orbs pulsed above the room like distant moons. Seated across the tiered rows were the children of dukes and generals, their eyes sharp, polished, deadly.
A voice sliced through the tension like a blade.
"I knew it!" the homeroom teacher snapped. "Einricht, how many times must I tell you not to delay students....especially new students who need to hear the rules?"
Grandmaster Einricht chuckled, already turning to leave. "Rules are like stones in a river, Tenilion! Good students will step over them."
The teacher sighed deeply.
Sarbas Tenilion wore dark robes stitched with silver veins that glowed faintly with his own authority. His stern face was weathered, his hair slicked back like iron drawn to a magnet. His eyes assessed Rain like a blacksmith inspects flawed ore. The class began to murmur behind their marble desks:
"Is that the boy who fought all fourteen candidates in the exam?"
"No way that peasant got an invite…"
"I heard the headmaster always calls the most promising first-year to his office… it must be him."
Sarbas silenced them with a flick of his fingers, the room falling into a cold hush.
"This is your class, boy. Now take a seat. I don't need to know your name unless it's important for me to."
Rain didn't respond. He felt it now, Uud....thick, aggressive, crawling from every desk in the room. The unspoken warning of predators eyeing a challenge.
So he responded in kind.
His own Uud began to leak from his body not in waves, but as a slow, suffocating mist. Refined, sharpened through battles, hardened in the desert, soaked in the memory of dragons. It was not the power of heritage, it was the power of survival.
Rain channeled the presence he had once seen in Virmethorn, the poised stillness of a creature who knew it could kill anything in the room. The nobles recoiled slightly. Some stared. A few clenched their fists. Rain walked in silence past them and took a seat beside Grey, the only one who didn't flinch, just glanced over with bored approval.
The teacher's voice cracked like a whip through the tension.
"Listen up, first-years."
Sarbas Tenilion stepped forward, clasping his hands behind his back.
"This is the Royal Class, meant to prepare those who will one day lead this realm. You are heirs to legacy, to armies, to secrets the common folk will never hear whispered. You are not allowed to be average. You are not even allowed to be merely good."
He paced, eyes drilling through each of them.
"If you do not meet the minimum expectations set by this class, you will be excommunicated from the Academy with immediate effect. There are no second chances."
A silence followed, heavier than armor.
Then he turned toward the rear exit, robes trailing.
"Inventory begins now. Follow me."
Narration:
"'The Royal Class' Alfheim Academy's crown jewel. Home to thirteen students, each bearing the weight of a legacy, a title, a name.
All but one."
"First is Princess Eleanor de Croft, formerly known as Lira the pirate....crowned heir of the Elven Empire. Cunning, untouchable, and very strong."
"Second is Ceaser Grey, cold as moonlight, firstborn of the Ceaser Dukedom. Silent eyes that see too much."
"Third, Vanilion Kant of the Kant Viscounty, elegant, ruthless, a blade of nobility honed for politics."
"Fourth, Esmer Lufont of the Lufont Viscounty, master of enchantment and heir to Alfheim's wealthiest magical lineage."
"Fifth, Bartolomeu Gagranov, iron-skinned brute of the Gagranov County. His fists carry the legacy of warlords."
"Sixth, Pam Sephorus of the Sephorus Viscounty, illusionist prodigy, charmer, and saboteur."
"Seventh, Luke Boltin of the Boltin Marque, a noble knight trained from birth, his oath as heavy as his halberd."
"Eighth, Prince Basil King, heir to the Jotun Empire, foreign royalty wrapped in secrecy and mystery."
"Ninth, Laven Kant, brother of Vanilion, colder and more ambitious still."
"Tenth, Dregr Endramalch, ambassador's son from Vaneheim, always speaking softly while his magic waits to strike."
"Eleventh, Julia Solz of the Solz Barony, gentle healer with dangerous ambition."
"Twelfth… no, there is no twelfth. Only the last."
"Thirteenth is Rain of Midgard. A boy with no name, no title, no estate. Just scars, silver hair… and eyes that once saw slavery."
"Ranked last only because he passed the general exam. Yet every noble in that room knew the truth: The Royal Class had changed forever the moment he walked in."
The Inventory Room
The heavy doors opened into a vast white chamber brimming with radiant magic a testing chamber unlike any Rain had seen. Instructors from each department lined the walls with floating crystal tablets in hand, ready to measure the raw potential of Alfheim's finest youth.
Sarbas Tenilion stood at the center. "Step forward when your name is called. Your Uud capacity and Authority will be assessed. Your class schedule will reflect your strengths. But let me make this clear, this is the true measure of your worth. Bloodlines mean nothing here."
The air shifted.
"First, Eleanor de Croft."
She walked confidently to the center. A ring of prismatic crystal encircled her and pulsed with bright hues.
"Uud Capacity: Violet, the highest known tier." "Authority: Gold, a mid-high rank."
Murmurs echoed through the chamber. She turned gracefully, making eye contact with no one, except Rain.
"Second, Ceaser Grey."
He moved with calm assurance. The device flickered blinding white.
"Uud Capacity: White, fully awakened through Authority." "Authority: White, the rarest and highest tier."
Gasps followed. Grey didn't even glance at the others. He simply returned to his place.
"Third, Vanilion Kant."
His results sparked a modest ripple.
"Uud: Blue, high range." "Authority: Black, low-rank."
Vanilion frowned slightly, but kept his poise.
"Fourth, Esmer Lufont."
"Uud: Indigo, semi-high." "Authority: Black."
She huffed at the result. Her pride clearly stung.
"Fifth, Bartolomeu Gagranov."
"Uud: Red, lowest capacity." "Authority: White."
Eyes turned. A brute with terrible control, but devastating will. He grinned as if the result was a joke only he got.
"Sixth, Pam Sephorus."
"Uud: Yellow, semi-low." "Authority: Gold."
Pam raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Fair," he muttered.
"Seventh, Luke Boltin."
"Uud: Green, mid-tier." "Authority: Black."
He gave a silent nod, not disappointed but expecting it.
"Eighth, Prince Basil."
"Uud: White, awakened." "Authority: Black."
His silvered eyes barely blinked. Even royalty could fall short.
"Ninth, Laven Kant."
"Uud: Violet.""Authority: Gold."
A strong showing. But his brother still stood above him.
"Tenth, Dregr Endramalch."
"Uud: Indigo.""Authority: Gold."
He smiled softly. Calculated. Waiting.
"Eleventh, Julia Solz."
"Uud: Orange, volatile." "Authority: Gold."
Bright, but unstable. Her hands trembled slightly.
Then came silence. Everyone turned.
"Lastly… Rain of Midgard."
He stepped forward. The device hummed violently, overwhelmed. A flare of violet light washed across the room, stunning even the instructors.
"Uud Capacity: Violet, exceptional." "Authority: ... None."
A silence fell so deep it threatened to crush the air out of the room. Not low. Not weak.
None.
Sarbas stared at the reading. "A warrior of pure Uud," he murmured.
Some students smirked. Others frowned, uncertain.
Grey tilted his head slightly curious. Eleanor? She just smiled. Quietly.
Rain clenched his fists. He felt no shame. Only a simmering question burning in his chest:
Why?
The class was ranked as follows; Using that approach, the final ranking (1 = highest, 12 = lowest) is as follows:
Grey Ceaser
Uud Capacity: White (highest)
Authority: White (highest)
Princess Eleanor de Croft
Uud Capacity: Violet (7)
Authority: Gold (mid–high)
Laven Kant
Uud Capacity: Violet (7)
Authority: Gold (mid–high)
Prince Basil King
Uud Capacity: White (8)
Authority: Black (lowest)
Dregr Endramalch
Uud Capacity: Indigo (6)
Authority: Gold
Esmer Lufont
Uud Capacity: Indigo (6)
Authority: Black
Bartolomeu Gagranov
Uud Capacity: Red (1)
Authority: White(Despite his highest Authority, his extremely low Uud capacity places him lower.)
Pam Sephorus
Uud Capacity: Yellow (3)
Authority: Gold
Vanilion Kant
Uud Capacity: Blue (5)
Authority: Black
Luke Boltin
Uud Capacity: Green (4)
Authority: Black
Julia Solz
Uud Capacity: Orange (2)
Authority: Gold
Rain of Midgard
Uud Capacity: Violet (7; exceptional)
Authority: None(Lacking any measurable Authority, Rain is ranked last despite his high Uud capacity.)
As the data readings concluded, Instructor Sarbas Tenilion tapped through the crystalline console embedded in the center of the room. Each student's name, Uud capacity, and Authority level glimmered above the disk in shining runes, projected for all to see.
The room buzzed with murmurs as the final profile blinked onto the panel...Rain of Midgard: Uud Capacity: Violet. Authority: None.
Sarbas frowned. "No Authority...?" His voice rose slightly, his disbelief cutting through the low chatter. "At your level of Uud... this makes no sense."
Rain stood in place, face calm, though his insides churned. He could feel the skeptical stares tightening around him like a noose.
"Perhaps..." Sarbas tapped again, navigating into the detailed student profiles. "Age sixteen," he muttered, nodding to himself. "He's still young enough that his Authority may not have awakened."
Several students laughed under their breath. Bartolomeu scoffed, "Sixteen and still no authority, surprising for a human grown elf."
But then Sarbas froze. His brow arched upward. "Wait a moment…"
He tapped again.
Ceaser Grey — Age: 16
Princess Eleanor de Croft — Age: 16
Prince Basil king — Age: 16
The room fell into stunned silence.
"What…?" someone whispered.
Sarbas leaned back, eyes narrowing in realization....his current class might be the very best in the academy's history and its not even close. Grey blinked from his seat, his posture loosening just a fraction as if intrigued for the first time. Eleanor looked away with an unreadable smile on her lips. Rain kept his gaze low. But inside, he could feel it:
Their awe was not about what he lacked… but what he might become.
Sarbas finally stepped away from the console. "You're all dismissed for today. Class schedules will be posted in the morning. But remember this, students…" He cast a long, assessing look at Rain. "Your readings today will not determine your future, at the very least they should reflect your potential for growth"
The Dormitories
The Royal Class students trickled out into the marble corridors of Alfheim Academy, golden sunlight pouring in from high-arched windows. Rain walked in silence, his violet robe trailing behind him, modest compared to the richly embroidered cloaks of his peers.
Whispers followed him like shadows.
"He doesn't even have Authority…"
"How did he even pass the exam?"
"Midgard's trash in a royal robe…"
Rain ignored them.
That is, until a boot slammed into the marble just ahead of him.
Vanilion Kant stood in the middle of the hallway, arms crossed, a smug grin on his face. "Oi, peasant, where do you think you're going?" His voice was dripping with sarcasm. "You don't belong in the Royal Class. You belong in the servant wing polishing our boots."
Some of the other students chuckled cruelly. Luke Boltin leaned on the wall nearby, smirking, clearly waiting to see a show.
Rain stopped. His eyes flicked up, calm, unreadable.
"I'm walking," he said.
"Oh?" Vanilion stepped closer. "Then walk through me. Show us that bloodlust from the arena, you little rat." His voice lowered, venomous. "Or is it only for ambushes and ice spears?"
Rain's fingers twitched. A memory of the final moment in the arena, Eleanor's smirk, the pain in his side, the look in her eyes.
His heartbeat steadied.
Then Vanilion made the mistake of shoving him.
Fast as lightning, Rain grabbed the noble's wrist....crack! The boy dropped to one knee with a stifled scream. Gasps filled the hall.
Rain didn't flinch. His voice was ice. "I don't fight for sport. But if you ever touch me again…" he leaned in, whispering just loud enough for all to hear, "I'll show you why i was given the title Elf of Midgard"
The color drained from Vanilion's face. Rain let go. The noble stumbled back, clutching his wrist, glaring in disbelief. Behind the crowd, Grey Ceaser watched the entire exchange silently, arms crossed.
Eleanor leaned against the wall with her arms folded and a flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes. No one else blocked Rain's path as he walked away.
The stone path curved through flowering trees, past glistening fountains and crystalline lanterns that hummed faintly with Uud. The Royal Dormitories stood atop a slight hill an elegant structure of white stone and curved elven spires, like a castle draped in moonlight.
Rain stood at the gate, his worn boots sinking into polished cobblestone. He looked up at the building and blinked.
It was... too much.
Each student was assigned their own tower suite, with enchantments unique to their affinity. The air smelled like jasmine and burning incense. Uud flowed freely here lanterns that floated to follow footsteps, windows that shifted tint based on mood, beds that adjusted to the user's breathing.
A student servant bowed politely and handed Rain a small white crystal.
"Room key, sir. Please place it on the stone pedestal in your tower's entry."
Rain took it with hesitation. "Sir." That title felt foreign on him.
He followed the map through marble corridors until he found it, Tower 13. A narrow spiral staircase led up the core, and at the top, a pedestal waited. He placed the crystal on it and the door opened with a soft chime.
The suite inside was... stunning.
A large glass dome stretched above, revealing the stars through enchanted skylight. A writing desk carved from Eldenwood sat in one corner, shelves of blank tomes and scrolls beside it. There was even a meditation garden with a small stream flowing through crystals that pulsed with a gentle rhythm.
Rain walked slowly, hand brushing the velvet fabric of the curtains, the silk of the bedding. It was too quiet.
He dropped his bag by the bed and sank into a plush chair, exhaling.
"I don't belong here…"
He whispered it aloud, just once. But then he remembered the arena. The roar of the crowd. The shock in the instructor's voice. And most of all... her voice.
"I don't belong here...." he murmured again.
His fists clenched.
No! He had earned this. A knock came at the door.
Rain stood, cautious. When he opened it, no one was there. Only a letter, sealed in silver wax, floated in the air.
He opened it.
"Royal Class orientation begins tomorrow at dawn. You are expected to attend the Royal faction evaluation ceremony at noon. Do not be late! ...By Headmaster Einricht"
At the bottom, in a different hand, was a short line written in green ink:
Nice room. Hope you sleep well, Midgard. Your dear friend.....Eleanor
Rain stared at it for a while then smiled, just a little.
A series of knocks echoed at Rain's door, startling him. When he opened it, a finely dressed steward bowed low.
"Rain of Midgard," he said ceremoniously. "Your official entrance gifts, as awarded by the Council of Alfheim. May your path be illuminated."
The steward stepped aside as three other attendants entered, their arms filled with items wrapped in silk, velvet, and glowing parchment.
One by one, they presented the treasures:
First was the Royal Class uniform, deep navy with silver trim, the emblem of Alfheim sewn into the chest in thread spun from moon-silk. The fabric shimmered subtly, woven with enchantments to resist elemental wear and adapt to the wearer's temperature and movement.
Second, a small chest bound in gold leaf was opened, revealing a cascade of elven currency: 100,000 Elks which is equivalent to 100'000 US$. It glowed faintly under the magical seal a fortune in any realm.
"Prize for ranking first in the general entrance exam," one of the attendants explained with a proud nod.
Third, they unwrapped a slender staff, its surface dark and alive with runic lines. The wood pulsed under Rain's fingers as he took it.
"Elder-wood," the steward said reverently. "Harvested from the sacred tree of the first exam. This staff will amplify any Uud used for transformation, especially if the wielder has an affinity for it."
Rain held it like it was made of glass. The weight felt… perfect. Like it belonged in his hand.
Fourth, the steward handed him a crystalline box. Inside was a tiny seed that pulsed with pale green light.
"A Lumin Tree seed, gifted from the emissaries of the Lumin people. It bonds to its planter, growing in reflection of their inner Uud. Water it with starlight and sincerity."
Rain stared at the seed in awe. Something ancient and alive stirred within it. He could feel it call to him, curious, wild, gentle.
Lastly, a silver tray was set before him, stacked high with sealed letters, each bearing a different sigil.
"The four Great Noble factions of Alfheim have all extended invitation," said the steward. "Your assessment has made waves, Midgard."
Rain sat down and began sorting through them.
The Oakwood Clan's letter was bound with a wax seal of intertwining roots. The message inside was poetic, earthy, and proud. "Come mold the world itself with your hands, as nature intended."
The Wickertomb Clan's was darker in tone, sealed in obsidian. The parchment smelled faintly of herbs. "Step beyond the veil. Let Uud show you truths not meant for daylight eyes."
The Starbound Clan sent a letter made of glowing paper that shimmered in the moonlight. "We build the thrones of the future. Join us if you desire to shape the Authority that commands realms."
The Starsteel Clan's message was blunt and bold, a black envelope with a sword etched in silver across it. "Your instincts are sound. Your kills speak for you. Come train where it matters and show us your knightly spirit."
Rain stared at all four.
Each path was a different future each offering him the chance to build a name and legacy or even to become adopted by one of the noble houses… and each one saw something in him.
He looked over at the staff leaning against the bed, the glowing seed on the desk, the crisp folds of the Royal uniform.
The battlefield had brought him this far.
But now... he was being asked who he wanted to become.