Class F – Hall Room
Buried deep in the academy's forgotten wing—far from the gilded towers and echoing lecture halls—our classroom looked more like a tomb than a place of learning. The air was thick with dust and the stale scent of neglected magic. Cracked pillars leaned like old bones, and even the light seemed reluctant to enter, pooling dimly in corners like shadows that never left.
Abandoned. Broken. Left to rot.
Perfect.
But now… maybe it's time for a rank up. Class E doesn't sound too bad.
Power festers best where no one bothers to look.
Class F was a collection of discarded names—failed nobles, outcasts, and hopeless cases. Just like me.
But unlike them, I had no intention of staying buried.
"Welcome to the trash heap," someone muttered as I sat down.
I didn't look. Didn't care. No name, no face—they'd fade from memory like smudged ink.
At the front, Instructor Vale stood tall, arms folded, eyes cold and sharp like ice that had never melted.
"You are not elite. You are not privileged," he said, voice cutting through the silence. "You are here because you are the scraps. But sometimes… scraps can sharpen into blades."
He let the silence stretch—an unspoken challenge lingering in the air.
"Survive the month. Prove you're not worthless."
Then he stepped aside. "This is your homeroom instructor—Elfes, known to some as the Eye of Infinity. Starting tomorrow, he'll teach you magic. I'll handle your combat training."
His silver suit caught the enchanted lights, gleaming like a knight's ceremonial armor. "Those who don't prove themselves… will be expelled. And remember—you'll be studying here for ten years."
With a final nod, he turned on his heel and left. "Good luck."
Silence dropped like a curtain.
Then Elfes stepped forward, his expression unreadable, voice smooth but distant.
"Call me Professor Elfes. Today, you'll cast your basic elemental spells. Pass or fail—it doesn't matter."
He turned on his heel, cloak brushing the ground like whispers.
"Follow me."
---
The Training Grounds
The academy's training arena stretched wide beneath the moonlight. Rune-bound barriers crackled with restrained energy, holding back the power within. Around us, other classes trained with precision and poise—graceful spellwork, controlled elemental bursts, sparring duels like elegant dances.
And then… there was us.
Chaos incarnate.
Spells misfired, staves flew through the air, someone caught their robe on fire, and one poor soul fainted from overchanneling.
To me, it was perfect.
A beautiful storm of failure. Because I like the vibe .
Elfes stood at the edge, arms behind his back, gaze cold and judging. He looked like a veteran who'd seen too much, carrying the weight of wasted potential. His voice echoed with disappointment, not surprise.
Then came the voice I hated more than silence.
"Hey, Trash Prince."
Krell.
Tall. Arrogant. A minor duke's third son with a superiority complex.
"Still mana-less, huh?" he sneered. "Even garbage can wear a crown, I guess."
He raised his hand and threw a fire spell—not powerful, just dramatic. Sparks danced in the air, licking toward me.
I didn't flinch.
One breath.
One step.
One precise motion.
Void answered.
No element, no holy grace, no spirit pact. If I had any of those, the Church would've caged me long ago.
But I had something else. Something ancient. Something forbidden.
The void, power of void .
Krell blinked—and I moved.
He hit the ground hard. His staff spun across the stone like a fallen relic. His eyes widened as he realized he hadn't seen me move.
I leaned close. My voice was cold steel.
"Try that again, and I'll send you somewhere time doesn't move."
His face turned pale, as if he'd heard something only the dead should hear.
No spell. No weapon.
Just a memory of the thing I used to be.
Elfes saw it all. His eyes narrowed—but he said nothing. Just watched.
Watched me cast without mana.
What did he see? Did his eyes catch everything!
Elsewhere – The Headmaster's Tower
Far above, in a chamber woven from time and enchantment, Headmaster Alvion stood at the edge of a tall window. His silver beard shimmered in candlelight, and his robes whispered old stories with every movement.
He watched the training field, eyes locked on one figure.
"He has returned," he said softly, to no one.
A shimmering projection flickered beside him—an ethereal figure cloaked in fog.
"You're sure it's him?"
Alvion didn't blink. "There's no mistaking it. His aura is fractured… buried… but still there."
"Does he remember the battle 41 years ago , is he from Land of Gods?"
Below, as if hearing from a mile away, I looked up—and met Alvion's gaze.
His breath caught.
"Maybe," Alvion whispered. "He's just pretending he doesn't."
A long silence stretched, heavy with destiny.
"And if the prophecy is true?" the voice asked.
Alvion's eyes darkened like a storm creeping over the horizon.
---
Nightfall – Arno's Dormitory
Back in my room, moonlight carved pale lines across the floor like scars across memory. I lay there, staring at the ceiling.
That flicker inside me again.
Not mana.
Something… deeper.
My power hadn't vanished. It had evolved. Twisted. Changed.
Something this world would never understand. Maybe I didn't either.
And within it… a name.
One I hadn't spoken in six hundred years.
" Void Walker "
In six hundred years I had two companions —an elf and a beast-kin. Not as powerful as me, but loyal, fierce. They followed me through madness, through wars the world forgot.
And they died for me.
I never forgave myself.
"I see them in dreams," I whispered. "In nightmares."
If they were alive…
I sat up, unable to breathe. The room felt too small, the air too heavy.
Feeling heavy I stepped onto the balcony.
That Night – Dormitory Rooftop
The night wind tugged at my coat as I stood under the stars. The constellations shimmered, ancient symbols woven across the heavens. Runes in motion. Secrets of old gods. While admiring the starry sky.
The rooftop door creaked open.
"I knew I'd find you here," Arsia said, stepping into the silver light.
Her robes clung to her lightly in the breeze, hair tousled, eyes unreadable.
"You've been avoiding us."
"No," I said. "Just enjoying the quiet."
"Liar."
She joined me at the edge, arms crossed, gaze distant. "Daven. You think we haven't noticed?"
I said nothing.
She turned toward me, her voice sharper now. "Back at the villa, you laughed. You lazed around like a prince. Now… you avoid us. Is it because of Class F?"
"Maybe," I murmured. "Maybe this academy reveals what we're meant to be."
"No," she said. "This isn't the academy. This is you."
I looked into her eyes—and for a moment, I almost fell for her. Almost.
But then, another memory flickered. Feona's laugh. Her scolding voice.
I wasn't alone.
"Okay, okay," I smiled faintly. "I won't avoid you two anymore. I'll treat you to a meal. How about it?"
"You better not forget," they said in unison as Feona appeared beside her, both grinning as they walked off.
To keep my lazy and beautiful life… I had to keep them close.
And so, I did the only thing that made sense.
I jumped off the balcony to collect money of course I had none .
---
The Forest – Midnight
The forest was a symphony of night—leaves rustled like whispers, and a thin mist clung to the roots. Deep within, a fire crackled around a circle of bandits, laughter and greed thick in the air.
They feasted on stolen goods, coins glittering like stars in a pile of blood.
A massive cage stood hidden under a blanket. Forgotten. Unnoticed.
A towering man raised his mug. "Eat till your hearts burst! We've struck gold this time—!"
His voice ended in a gurgle as his head split open, cleanly, silently.
A shadow moved.
Fast. Ruthless. Silent.
Screams followed.
A cloaked figure danced through the camp like a ghost with blades. No mercy. No hesitation. Just death.
Blood splashed the leaves. Cries shattered the calm.
When the carnage ended, one bandit still breathed, crawling through mud.
I grabbed him.
"Show me the treasure."
Terrified, he obeyed.
When he was no longer useful—I ended him.
I stood before the cage. Pulled back the blanket.
Inside—chained, bruised, and marked—was a beastkin girl. Her fur was matted, eyes wide with fear, lips trembling.
A slave brand burned on her skin.
I reached for the lock—but stopped. My current body couldn't use dark magic. Not yet.
So I did the only thing I could.
I took her to a nearby cave. Cleaned her wounds. Applied balm with careful hands. Her breath steadied.
Then, I knelt.
"I'm giving you a piece of my power. Not much. Just enough to survive. When you're ready, form a contract with me. This magic… will protect you."
Her eyes, wide with confusion and fear, locked onto mine.
I stood up.
"I'll come back tomorrow."
I stepped into the shadows, cloak billowing like a ghost.
Behind me, the stars burned brighter.
But the night… only got darker.