EXACTLY THIRTY DAYS LATER-
LOCATION: DUSKRANE PALACE, DUSKRANE COUNTY
DATE: 12th, MONTH OF THAWEN, 2012 A.G.
CREAK.
The grand oak doors of Duskrane Palace parted with a reluctant groan, revealing a modest ebony carriage resting just beyond the steps. Its silver trims caught the morning light, glinting like polished frost.
STEP. STEP.
A boy descended the stairs with measured confidence—his white undercut hair tousled by the mountain breeze, amethyst eyes gleaming beneath a maniacal grin.
"I'm very excited, Father," he declared, practically vibrating with anticipation.
Henry Duskrane looked down at his son, a rare softness warming his stern features.
"I am too," he said simply.
TAP. TAP.
The carriage door opened. A poised woman stepped out, her gloved hand holding that of a young boy with copper hair and golden eyes. The woman's black hair was tied in an elegant bun, and her deep violet gown shimmered faintly with imperial embroidery.
"I greet Count and Countess Duskrane," she said with a respectful incline of her head. Her gaze swept over the gathered figures. "To think, the entire family has assembled."
Countess Orianne Duskrane stepped forward and gently placed a hand on the woman's shoulder.
"Countess Wynn. How are you holding up?"
The other woman hesitated. Her lips trembled slightly before she forced a polite smile.
"What can I say, Countess Duskrane... My husband is still confined to bed, and Kael is off to train with elder Harkon." She blinked rapidly, fighting a tear.
Orianne pulled her into a gentle embrace.
"It will all work out," she whispered, her hand stroking the woman's back with quiet reassurance.
Countess Wynn gave a small nod as she stepped away, dabbing her cheek with a silk handkerchief.
"Thank you... truly."
"Vinnie!" Kael waved enthusiastically.
"Kael!" Vincent rushed toward him with a boyish grin.
"It's time to go," Henry called, glancing at his silver pocket watch with a flick of his wrist.
Vincent nodded, a spark of resolve flickering in his expression.
"Hm."
Suddenly, a high-pitched squeal broke the moment.
"Cinnamon Roll!"
"Cupcake!"
Vincent turned—only to be ambushed by a pair of women racing down the steps. Behind them followed his cousins.
Amelia threw her arms around him, planting a kiss on his cheek.
"Train well, cupcake."
Sophie ruffled his hair, grinning wide.
"All the best, cinnamon roll. Stay safe!"
Raphael and Leon approached more hesitantly, yet their voices came together in practiced unity.
"Take care, Vayren."
"Vaywen!" Evangeline cried, tugging at his coat. "Where are you going?"
"I want to go too!" Elise wailed, flinging her small arms around his waist.
"Why are you leaving, Vaywen?" Delphine whimpered, clinging to his other arm.
Vincent knelt, his expression softening as he faced the little ones.
"Haha, my dear sweeties," he murmured, placing a kiss on each forehead. "Vayren is only leaving for a few days. I promise—I'll come whenever you ask."
"Rweally?" the trio sniffled in unison.
"Of course, Evangeline, Elise, and Delphine," he said, brushing away their tears. "You have my word."
He turned to the rest, raising a hand in farewell.
"Goodbye, Mother. Father. Everyone."
"Take care, grandson," Thomas called, his voice deep but warm.
"Send word when you arrive at the nearest inn," Olivia smiled, her eyes glassy with pride.
"Be brave, nephew," Alexander added with a smirk.
"Don't forget to visit," Edward said, voice quieter than the rest.
Henry approached, laying a firm hand on Vincent's shoulder. His tone lowered.
"Son, when you step into the world… there will be envy, mockery, and cruelty. Some will try to tear you down, simply because you carry our name." He clenched his fist slowly, each word deliberate. "But if anyone crosses the line—anyone—flatten them. No hesitation."
Vincent tilted his head, curious.
"Where do I draw the line?"
Henry's grin widened, teeth flashing like a wolf.
"Wherever you want."
The two burst into dark, mirthful laughter. Orianne frowned faintly but said nothing as she stepped forward.
"Vincent," she said, cupping his cheeks with both hands, "you're strong, but you don't have to be alone. If anything troubles you—even the smallest thing—you tell Mother, alright?"
He nodded once, a quiet seriousness settling behind his eyes.
Henry turned to the old butler.
"Uncle Jonathan."
Jonathan bowed deeply before climbing up to sit beside the carriage driver.
Henry gave one final thumbs-up to the carriage window.
"All the best, Countess Wynn. Train—study hard!"
Both Countess Wynn and her son chuckled softly in reply.
The boys soon shifted to a different which rolled towards a forest.
A FEW HOURS LATER-
"Ah, freedom!" Vincent jumped out of the carriage, Sir Harkon and Rybak waiting for him.
"Let me introduce you," he slung a hand on Kael's shoulder,
"This guy is my best friend, Kael Wynn!"
He gestured to Harkon and Rybak,
"And he is my mentor, Sir Harkon Argyle and my senior brother, Rybak Argyle."
Kael bowed in respect,
"I pay my greetings to Master Harkon and senior brother Rybak."
"Hoho," Harkon ran his fingers against the rough strands of his beard,
"Looks like the boy is quick to adapt. Very well, let's start our training."
ONE YEAR LATER-
Location - ???
Vincent stepped out of the cave, his skin catching the early rays of sunlight.
"Its time we leave."
He turned to Harkon roasting meet, then to Kael and Rybak following behind.
"Well, I have taught the Duskrane every weapon I could." The elder took a bite of fish,
"As for the knife boy, I have no more techniques to teach you."
"So," Rybak stretched his arms, "Do we say farewell here?"
Kael turned to his left, towards the lake forward. A titanic tower of ornate stood before them, its tip piercing the clouds.
"That it seems."
"Master, senior brother." Vincent turned to Harkon and Rybak fighting over roasted fish,
"Thank you." His steps turned to the mysterious tower.
"Thank you for your teachings!" Kael chimed, turning to Vincent as both crossed the alcove inside.
"Time to break this tower." Vincent smiled menacingly, his canine flashing before cracks splintering across the tower's body.
DING!
[WELCOME TO AXIS OF REALMS!]
[TOWER NUMBER – 4696265]
[FLOOR - ???]
Soon, void consumed all as sound of stones crushing came from all directions. Faintly a torch crackled, it was followed by other torches as Vincent and Kael found themselves in a narrow passage.
Moss peeked through the cracks in the stone walls. Sounds of insects crawling could be in the absolute silence the passage held.
"Ready?" A bead of sweat trickled down Kael's cheeks as he gripped what seemed to be a knife, but with a bent edge.
"Always."
Vincent confidently strode towards the end as both their silhouettes disappeared into darkness.
"GGGGGGGRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"
BOOM!
ELEVEN YEARS LATER-
DATE: 12th, MONTH OF THAWEN, 2021 A.G.
LOCATION: ELDRIN ACADEMY, ELDERREACH BARONY
The carriage shuddered to a halt. Outside, the wind sang a highland song—crisp, cold, and laced with magic. A figure leaned forward, his emerald eyes narrowing as the curtains were drawn aside.
There it was.
Eldrin Academy.
Built upon the soaring cliffs of Cindralune Ridge, the academy was less a school and more a city of marble, brass, and myth. Towers loomed like spears aimed at the heavens, their tips crowned with floating rings of arcane runes that shimmered faintly in the light of the noon sun. Aether-lines—the glowing veins of raw mana—ran beneath the stone, pulsing with quiet life beneath students' boots.
A colossal archway marked the entrance, flanked by statues of the academy's founders: one a knight in burnished plate, the other a mage with a tome ablaze in her hands. Above them, engraved in ancient Imperial script, read the academy's motto:
"From Knowledge, Dominion."
Carriages from across the continent were lined up before the gates, each bearing noble crests or merchant guild sigil. Armoured knights stepped out beside potion-brewers. A girl in a high-collared velvet cloak gestured with her fingers, and her luggage floated beside her like loyal birds.
The two boys stepped out onto the cobbled landing, the scent of parchment, soot, and storm-charged air washing over him.
"Is this... all one academy?" one asked, his green eyes wide as they scanned the sprawling structures stretching into the mist.
It was.
To the west, The Argent Hall stood proud—its training fields echoing with the clang of steel and barked orders. To the east, the crystalline spire of the Aetherium pierced the sky, its balconies filled with robed figures and flying familiars. Behind it, plumes of smoke marked the forges of Emberforge Wing, where sparks leapt like fireflies and anvils rang like war drums.
There was even a distant bell chiming from The Gilded Hearth, the culinary quarter, where the scent of saffron and spiced meat drifted over the walls. Somewhere farther off, wind-carved cheering rang from the Iron Vale, where athletes and spellbound warriors clashed in games that bent the rules of gravity.
The boys could hardly decide where to look—each part of the academy was its own kingdom.
A green uniformed upperclassman approached, clipboard in hand, a floating orb trailing behind him. "First years?" he asked.
The boys nodded.
The boy glanced them up and down—their hair, grin, the unmistakable Leonhart carriage behind —then checked something off.
"Welcome to Eldrin Academy," he said. "You're exactly on time. But don't be late again—some of your professors have been known to duel students for lesser offenses."
The brown haired one smiled wider. "Sounds fun."
The upperclassman arched an eyebrow and moved on.
As they passed through the archway, the shift was immediate. The temperature dropped a degree. The air thickened—not with fog, but with possibility. Ancient wards hummed against the skin like static. Magic was not just taught here.
Light screamed through the painted window panes, highlighting the boy's features – A height of about one hundred seventy-five centimetres.
Wild brown hair tied such that they briefly brush past his neck. Light, bright and sharp green eyes like finely cut emeralds. With dark, refined eyebrows with a gentle arch he had noticeable upper eyelid folds.
Rays ran over his straight and narrow nose bridge, ending at his small, fairly narrow nose tip. Cheekbones, lightly defined, clenched as his thin, relaxed lips twisted in a grin that expanded as it could.
His lean frame leaned forward, his upper canines catching sunlight.
"Ralph, you see this?"
He turned to the other, slightly taller boy behind him.
Short, swept‑back black hair with a few loose strands on his smooth, broad yet perfect forehead, were of a slightly tousled texture, giving a neat yet relaxed look.
Almond shaped eyes, the colour of polished jade with a defined upper eyelid crease glanced at his companion.
His thin, dark eyebrows, made with perfect aristocracy, lightly curved. His high, subtly defined cheekbones with slim, smooth cheeks complimented his pointed chin, making a tapered jawline.
Beneath his well-defined philtrum, his lips— thin upper lip and slightly fuller lower lip – curled in a relaxed half-smile.
"Yes, Leon?"
Then, as if complimenting his aristocratic features, his skin glowed in a warm tone, his long, straight neck locking in an upright, confident head posture. His lean, perfectly balanced and symmetrical body straightened, giving about a height of one hundred seventy-eight centimetres.
"I am so excited to see Vayren!" Leon shot a fist to the sky, "And look at this place, what a cool place!"
And Leon was right. They lived here. Strength, power, genius, virtue and evil.
From every hallway carved with house crests, to the shifting staircases of the Ivory Forum, to the wyvern-bone bridges linking towers in the Brass Nexus, this was more than a place of learning.
This was the crucible of an empire.
And our protagonists had just stepped into the fire.
A familiar figure lounged against the wall as if it belonged to him, orange hair tousled into bright, careless waves that spilled over a high, sun‑warmed forehead.
Golden eyes tracked the empty hallway, their molten gleam catching every stray light like they were weighing and filing away the world. Sharp cheekbones and a lean, angular jaw threw hard shadows across his face whenever he shifted, turning his lazy posture into something quietly predatory.
When he smiled—wide, easy, all white teeth and a hint of mischief—it softened nothing; it only made the confidence in the set of his shoulders and the lazy roll of his bare, athletic frame look even more deliberate.
"Brother Kael!" Leon and Raphael shrieked together, elation bursting from their voices.
They rushed forward and wrapped their arms around him in a tight, tumbling hug. Kael staggered slightly but caught them both with ease, laughing heartily as he did.
"You two haven't changed at all," he said, giving each of them a rough pat on the back. "Still full of noise."
He pulled back, eyes scanning the area. "Where are your companions?"
"Young master!"
Two exasperated voices called out from behind them, followed by the unmistakable sound of dragging bags and shuffling boots.
First came a shorter boy, about one hundred sixty-seven centimetres in height.
Fluffy red hair falling over a softly rounded face, pale skin flushed pink across cheeks and ears, narrow red eyes under short slanting brows, a small straight nose, and slightly parted, pouty lips.
He was comically overloaded—one heavy pack slung on his back, another strapped across his front like a soldier marching into war. Despite the weight, his grip didn't falter, and there was fire in his step.
"Hold up—don't drop it!" the second boy called as he jogged up beside him.
Taller and lean, this one had soft, wavy light-brown hair framing a narrow face, warm brown eyes under gentle brows, straight nose, lightly defined cheekbones, and thin, relaxed lips over a small pointed chin.
And about one hundred eighty-two centimetres in height.
He carried two enormous suitcases, one in each hand, arms stiff with strain. Though clearly winded, he maintained an air of quiet control, the only sign of stress being the beads of sweat sliding down his neck.
Kael raised an eyebrow.
"Let me guess. These are your companions-slash-porters?"
Leon grinned. "They insisted."
"We did not!" the tall one snapped, wobbling slightly as the weight of the suitcase pulled at his balance.
"I can't let young master Raphael carry the luggage," the shorter boy huffed, tightening the strap across his chest as sweat dampened his collar.
Raphael's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, Theo!" he said, rushing to him and grabbing a satchel. "I completely forgot about the bags."
THUD!
A suitcase flew across the air—and nearly knocked Leon off balance as he caught it with a startled grunt.
"Sig!" Leon yelped, stumbling.
"Please carry your own luggage, young master," Sigmund muttered, brushing his bangs from his forehead as he stooped to reclaim his other case.
Kael snorted at the sight, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"Well, within these walls," he said, voice tinged with amusement, "only strength determines hierarchy. Nobility means nothing when you're bent double under your own wardrobe."
Theo muttered something inaudible about laundry carts and revenge, while Sig adjusted the weight on his shoulder with a resigned sigh.
Then Raphael asked, "Where is Vayren?"
Kael's expression shifted.
That playful glint in his golden eyes darkened, replaced by something colder—something knowing.
A slow, menacing smile crept across his face.
"You'll meet him soon."
Just then, the iron bells of Eldrin Academy tolled—deep, sonorous, and ancient. Their chimes rang through the stone arches like a heartbeat rising from the bones of the mountain itself.
A magically amplified voice echoed through the hallways:
"All new students are required to assemble in the Grand Assembly Hall. Orientation begins in ten minutes."
The boys exchanged glances. Dust motes drifted in the sunlight streaming through the stained-glass windows overhead.
"Well," Kael said, turning toward the towering archway at the end of the corridor. "Let the chaos begin."
"But," Theo mumbled, "Is Vayren not here?"
"You boys!" Kael shrieked in dramatic annoyance,
"Do you know what favour I am doing by bringing you here? Do you know what reputation you 'vayren' has, here?"
The four turned their heads in unison.
"Haah," Kael slapped his forehead, "Let's make a detour. You will learn ten ways to call a maniac a maniac."
And so, across second and a few fifth years, Kael interrogated everyone he could lay his eyes on.
"Describe Vincentius Duskrane in one word," He winked, "And I promise it would be just between us."
And so, the replies came—
"Unhinged," a female second-year confessed.
"Deranged!" a male fourth year shrieked at the top of his lungs.
"Rabid," another third-year sighed as he brushed off his clothes of imaginary dust.
"Feral." A female second-year scowled.
"Lunatic," a fifth-year girl said with her lips quivering.
"Psychotic." A professor, yes, a professor exhaled as if losing his remaining hair.
"Insane." Another female fourth-year trembled with tears threatening to spill.
"Savage, but cool!" A second-year boy clenched his fists in admiration.
"Wild, no, rampaging! No, tyrant!" A trembling fourth-year confessed with sweat pouring like rain.
"Frothing." Lastly a fifth-year senior, the same as Kael chuckled, shrugging.
However, their expressions changed at Kael's second question.
"But, what do you really think of him?"
"A," the students spoke with smiles creeping on their faces,
"Cyclone that changed," they glanced at Kael,
"The academy."
The boys were all shocked from the reactions. But before they could recover, their steps stopped at the Grand Assembly Hall.
"That's it for today." Kael turned, his eyes faintly drifting upwards,
"Meet you later!"
INSIDE THE GRAND ASSEMBLY HALL.
The Grand Assembly Hall of Eldrin Academy was an architectural marvel, a blend of ancient stone and modern grandeur designed to inspire awe in all who entered. The hall stretched outward in a wide, open space, where the new students gathered, hearts racing in anticipation of their first taste of the academy's legendary reputation.
At the base of the hall, the students stood in orderly rows, the first-years packed together in a tight cluster, their gazes shifting nervously around them. The echo of their murmurs bounced off the high walls, a quiet buzz that filled the air with excitement and anxiety. The floor, made of smooth, polished black stone, reflected the flickering torchlight that illuminated the space, creating a sense of infinity beneath their feet.
In front of them, the grand podium was a towering structure of gleaming silver and obsidian, framed by intricate columns that rose like giants to the high ceiling. At the center of the podium stood the Headmaster, an imposing figure with an aura of quiet authority. Beside him were the dean of each department and the faculty, all of whom would be watching the new students with a careful, critical eye. The Headmaster's voice would set the tone for everything that followed. Behind them, large banners of the academy's emblem fluttered in the cool air, their golden threads catching the torchlight, casting a regal glow across the stage.
Above the first-years, the hall opened out into multiple balconies, where the upperclassmen—sophomores, juniors, and seniors—watched from their elevated perches. These students stood or sat in casual groups, their eyes constantly shifting between their juniors, some with expressions of boredom, others with barely concealed amusement. The balconies rose in steep tiers, each level slightly more distant from the students below, adding a sense of grandeur to the gathering. The laughter of the seniors echoed down toward the first-years, who were still adjusting to the gravity of the moment.
The balconies seemed endless, stretching high into the air, a testament to the academy's power and history. From these lofty heights, the seniors eyed their juniors, some with the calm indifference of those who had already survived the crucible, while others watched with curiosity—or, in some cases, barely veiled judgment. Their faces were half-hidden by the soft light of the torches, creating an almost ethereal glow as they looked down upon the fresh crop of students.
Above it all, massive chandeliers hung like stars, their crystal lights illuminating the entire hall with a soft, golden glow, casting long, graceful shadows across the marble floor. The atmosphere was charged with a sense of anticipation and tradition, as if this moment had happened a thousand times before, and yet, to the first-years standing at the base, it felt as though they were standing on the precipice of something entirely new.
As the final bell rang, signalling the start of orientation, the quiet hum of voices stilled. All eyes were drawn to the podium, where the headmaster stepped forward. His voice, amplified by magic, echoed across the hall, a steady, powerful tone that silenced the room in an instant.
"Welcome to Eldrin Academy."
A/N-
Since volume 0 has been completed. The earlier chapters of volume 1 will be posted as is with minor corrections in accordance with the plot changes.