The transport shuttle shook with every gust of wind, rattling across the metal tracks like a rusted tin can. Lyle sat in the very back, his fingers brushing the edge of the spellbook hidden beneath his uniform coat. The rune on the cover no longer glowed, but he could feel it pulsing faintly—like a second heartbeat.
He wasn't the only one on board.
Dozens of other sixteen-year-olds filled the cabin, most excited, some nervous, and a few already laughing like they owned the place. Lyle, though, sat alone. Again. Still the outsider.
He watched the clouds roll by outside the window. Fort Varion wasn't on any normal map—just a dark blot marked in red on the military scrolls. It floated in the air above the central empire borderlands, only accessible by rail-shuttle or wind-gliders.
He remembered the instructor's words at the testing hall.
> "No affinity. Mana response: zero. You'll be placed in Null-Class. Your job is to survive and assist real mages. Don't get in their way."
Lyle clenched his fists.
They were wrong.
He wasn't Null. He was something else. Something forgotten. Something powerful.
The book had said so.
---
The shuttle finally lurched to a halt.
"ALL RECRUITS, OUT!" came a booming voice over the intercom.
The doors slid open with a hiss, revealing a massive platform carved into black stone. Floating towers loomed above like the spires of some fallen god's cathedral. Armed guards in enchanted armor stood in formation, their faces covered by masks of steel and spelllight.
As they stepped out, Lyle's eyes scanned the surroundings. Behind him, a girl with long silver hair moved with quiet confidence. Her gaze swept across the others like a hawk sizing up prey. Her presence drew attention, even from the guards.
> She'll be trouble, Lyle thought.
Another boy stumbled out—tall, messy hair, oversized glasses, and a backpack that looked like it could tip him over at any moment. He tripped, caught himself, and looked around sheepishly.
> "Well… guess I'm still alive," he muttered to no one.
Lyle blinked. Great. A walking disaster.
---
A voice thundered across the courtyard.
"Welcome to Fort Varion, cadets. I am Commander Sorrell, your instructor, your shadow, and your judge."
The man was tall, scarred, and wore no armor. Just a high-collared coat lined with runes that glowed faintly as he spoke.
"You were brought here for one reason: to train for war. The world outside this fortress doesn't care about your feelings, your past, or your excuses. You will awaken, fight, and bleed here."
He paced slowly.
"Elemental cores will be tested again. If you fail twice… we'll find other uses for you."
Some recruits shuffled nervously.
Lyle didn't.
Because he already knew how this would go.
> "No affinity," they'd say. Again.
But this time, he'd be ready.
---
Later that evening, Lyle was guided to Dorm 9, the housing for "Null-Class" cadets.
Only four bunks. Cracked walls. A flickering light orb in the ceiling.
The tall kid with glasses was already there, unpacking a small alchemy set with shaking hands.
"Oh—hey, I'm Dex. You, uh… Null-Class too?"
Lyle nodded. "Lyle."
Dex offered a half-smile. "Well, guess that makes two of us. Outcasts."
Lyle didn't correct him. Not yet.
He lay on the bunk and waited for nightfall, the spellbook pressed tightly to his chest.
The system hadn't spoken since this morning.
But when the lights dimmed, and the fortress slept, a whisper returned inside his mind.
> "Soon, heir of Arcai. Soon, the world will remember the power of wizards."