After 2 Months —
The royal academy's gates loomed before me—tall, ornate, and intimidating. Wrought with enchanted iron and blessed with old runes, they radiated a quiet warning: only the worthy may pass.
Students from noble families and ancient bloodlines walked with pride, their robes embroidered with crests of lineage and power. The air itself shimmered faintly with magic. Laughter, ambition, and the scent of arrogance thickened the atmosphere.
And then there was me—Arno Daven. The "trash prince." The whispered embarrassment of the Carbol Kingdom.
If only they knew the truth...
If only they could see the blood-soaked path I had crawled through to return.
Feona tugged at my cloak, snapping me back to the present.
"Stop spacing out. You're not dreaming anymore."
"Just admiring the architecture," I muttered, masking the deeper storm behind my eyes.
Arsia rolled her eyes. "You're the crown prince of Carbol. At least pretend to act like it."
I shrugged. "That's what I'm doing. Pretending."
The academy stood at the heart of six kingdoms—an institution where bloodline met power, and future kings, generals, and warlocks were forged. But I wasn't here to impress professors or polish royal pride.
I was here to observe. To unravel hidden threats.
To find the roots of betrayal… and maybe pull them out, one by one.
We stepped into the grand hall, its ceilings impossibly high, tapestries fluttering with illusions that showed ancient battles and forgotten glories. As we entered, dozens of students turned. Stares. Whispers.
"That's him..."
"The prince who never awakened his mana..."
"How pathetic."
I smiled.
They had no idea I could crush them with a thought.
---
In the Afternoon —
The class test began, a brutal tradition meant to test every student's combat capabilities. Teachers fought the students directly, gauging performance with live magic and steel.
No illusions. No mercy.
I watched the chaos from the sidelines, calculating. One by one, students were sent flying or healed mid-battle. And then—
"Arno Daven!"
The ground seemed to still as I stepped forward. A tall figure awaited me—silver-armored, imposing, unblinking. Instructor Vale. The one who doesn't believe in excuses. Or mercy.
"Show me what you've got," he growled.
I sighed lightly. I hadn't regained my full power. Not yet. Not in this world. "Ay, sir—"
Before I could finish, he lunged like a beast unleashed.
I dodged by instinct alone. "Phew. That was close."
His eyes narrowed. A flicker of intrigue broke his icy face. "You're not what everyone says."
He launched a flurry of strikes—fast, ruthless, and precise. I dodged most, letting instinct guide me, though a few slashes kissed my skin. Blood welled up in red ribbons.
I had enough.
For a second, I considered using it. The forbidden force that still stirred inside me. But just as I reached for it—
"Enough," came another voice. Another instructor.
Vale stepped back, blade to the ground. "Impressive… for someone with 'no magic.'"
I collapsed to the side, breathing shallowly, cuts stinging as they carried me to the infirmary. I wasn't humiliated. I was calculating.
---
Mana Test – Later That Day
Crystalline orbs lined the hall, humming with ancient magic. Students took turns placing their hands upon them, watching as colors burst to life.
The brighter the glow, the greater the potential. The rarer the color, the rarer the gift.
Feona's orb radiated a deep turquoise—water and wind.
Arsia's flared with red and ochre—fire and earth.
Applause. Admiration.
Then came my turn.
The orb remained dull. Lifeless.
Laughter erupted behind me. Whispers snaked through the room.
I stared at it calmly. Let them laugh.
What would a candle know of the sun?
---
Later – Orientation Hall
"Arno Daven."
Instructor Vale's voice cracked like a whip. I met his gaze.
"You've been placed in Class F."
Gasps. Snickers.
"Class F? That's for failures."
Feona's fists clenched. Arsia looked like she'd been slapped.
I merely smiled. "Fitting."
I walked toward my seat at the far end of the marble hall. In truth, I welcomed the shadows.
Only in darkness can you see the ones hiding in it.
Vale's voice followed me like a slow dagger.
"You'll be re-evaluated in one month. Show us what you're truly made of."
Oh, I will.
But not for you.
---
That Night —
The stars above shimmered like ancient runes across a black velvet sky. I sat on the dorm balcony, eyes heavy with memory. War. Betrayal. Fire. Screams.
Six hundred years of torment that no one here could begin to understand.
"You're hiding something, aren't you?"
Feona's voice cut through the silence.
I didn't turn. "Shouldn't you be asleep, Princess?"
She moved closer. "You've changed. You weren't like this before… cold. Distant."
I finally turned. "Maybe dying changes people."
"But you didn't die."
"Didn't I?" My voice was a whisper now. "The Arno you knew… he's still in that coffin."
She paused. Hurt flickered in her eyes. "I missed him."
I stood, brushing past her. "Then you should've buried me with him."
Elsewhere – In Shadows
Far beneath the academy, deep within a forgotten ruin where light dared not tread, a cloaked figure knelt before a dark orb pulsing with forbidden magic.
"He has returned," the figure rasped. "Le Arno Daven—the soul touched by otherworldly realms."
" What do you think we should do ?"
The orb rippled with malice.
A voice, distorted and ancient, replied:
"He has returned," the figure rasped. "—the soul touched by otherworldly realms."
The orb rippled with malice.
A voice, distorted and ancient, replied:
"That sword reacting I see "