Finally, the day arrived.
The Princess and I stood before the gates of The Magic Academy of Knights and Royals of Elfiriah, its name carved into obsidian stone so old that even mana refused to erode it. The words did not boast. They endured.
The Elfiriah Academy formal uniform for males embodied noble authority and ancient magic—centered around a deep black, knee-length swallowtail coat adorned with intricate golden trim. Over the heart rested the academy's insignia: a black shield crowned with a stylized lion's face, its eyes glowing with a steady, piercing blue. Beneath the coat lay a grey, high-collared tunic cut clean and sharp, paired with fitted black trousers that disappeared seamlessly into mana-threaded leather boots—formal enough for court, durable enough for war.
The female uniform followed the same legacy, tailored with regal restraint. A fitted black swallowtail coat emphasized a refined silhouette, bordered with the same golden trim and bearing the identical lion insignia. Beneath it, a light-grey high-collared blouse sat flush against the body, paired with either fitted trousers or a skirt with compulsory stockings, transitioning into the same mana-threaded boots. No excess. No weakness.
From behind, the scene unfolded like a painting.
A male student and a princess walked toward the academy's heart, both wearing coats edged not in gold alone—but in charcoal-grey trim. It was subtle. Almost invisible in motion. Yet even in a sea of elemental blues, reds, and greens, something about it felt off. Rare. Unnamed. Unspoken.
The academy itself was a dark, majestic castle nested within a central valley, entirely encircled by four towering emerald-green mountains so steep they formed a natural fortress. A massive waterfall descended from the range behind the castle, feeding a crystalline lake at its base. From there, narrow water channels branched out along stone paths, threading through gardens of rare mana flora.
Massive mana-iron gates marked the entrance. Beyond them, students gathered—laughing, whispering, observing. The atmosphere balanced academic bustle with ancient serenity, as if the land itself was watching who entered.
As we walked, I asked quietly within our shared awareness.
So… you've become a narrator now?
Aeldir's presence stirred.
It's beautiful, he replied. I wanted to describe it in my own words.
I allowed it.
It's an interesting description.
Thank you, bro.
Our souls had synchronized enough that passive senses—sight, sound, touch—were shared freely. Movement, speech, mana usage, decisions that required intent—those remained mine unless I allowed otherwise.
Students gathered before the castle. The principal did not appear physically. Instead, sound magic rolled across the grounds, calm and absolute.
"Welcome, students. You have enrolled in the Magic Academy of Knights and Royals. On your first day, you will be divided into groups of ten. A teacher will escort each group and explain the rules. Siblings will remain together. Enjoy your first day. We will meet again at dinner. Form up."
Six hundred students stood before the academy—different species, different statuses. Royalty required no entrance exam. Others did. Their rankings had already been confirmed by their sensei or evaluators.
In my case, the knight, who I fight with , escorted me confirmed my credentials. For the Princess, confirmation came directly from the Queen herself—a former graduate and top performer of her era.
Our group consisted of three dwarves, three elves, three mixed-bloods… and me.
Officially, all of us were registered as seventeen.
Originally, I was only seven or eight.
I blamed an artifact for my accelerated growth. The King's medical staff examined me thoroughly. Even S-rank medical magic found nothing wrong—only flawless evolution. The ring was returned to me, intact. The excuse held.
Among the group, my attention aligned with only three figures.
One dwarf bore a large scar over his left eye. Brown eyes. Black hair. No beard. His skin was darker than usual, but not unnaturally so. He stood straight—too straight for someone his age.
The second was an elf whose human traits dominated—slightly shortened ears, red eyes, black hair. No facial hair. His posture was reserved, observant.
The others introduced themselves. I didn't listen.
Aeldir did.
Then our guide arrived.
"Hello, students. I am your guide and instructor. Former A-rank adventurer. Follow me."
The academy was vast—twenty-four classes, multiple training zones, labs, halls, and beneath it all, a hundred-floor dungeon. The surrounding mountains housed hostel facilities—five stories each, twenty-five rooms per level. We weren't allowed inside yet. There wasn't enough time.
By evening, exhaustion settled in.
The Princess asked me to introduce myself as her stepbrother. We spoke quietly about Nyx, who had been transported safely with our luggage as a registered beast companion.
Dinner was held in a grand hall lit by mana-crystal chandeliers. The principal finally appeared—wearing the same uniform as the students, though his trim was gold. His eyes glowed cosmic blue. A restrained red aura clung to him, tightly controlled.
He explained the academy rules.
Twenty-four classes. Five teachers each. Two sessions per teacher per day. Exams after two months. Dungeon access restricted. Manuals were distributed—thirty pages of maps, rules, and system explanations.
After dinner, we were escorted to our hostels.
The architecture formed interlocking triangles—boys' hostels mirrored against girls', forming a perfect rectangle. The Princess's hostel bordered mine.
Night fell.
I did not sleep.
I forced myself to remain awake.
Sleep meant vulnerability and dungeon visit. The dungeon had taught me that rest was a luxury paid in blood and I didn't want to go there again too.
I spoke to Aeldir. Played with Nyx. Not because I wanted to—but because they were the only ones I trusted enough to anchor me. The only ones who could pull me back if my thoughts drifted too far.
Aeldir talked more than usual. He sounded… happier.
Later, by the lake, I encountered three members of our group—the Princess, the dwarf, and the elf.
"Why are you awake so late, aeldir?" the Princess asked.
I countered calmly. "Why are you?"
Moonlight fractured across the water. For a moment, suspicion flickered in the others' expressions. I kept my posture neutral. Respectful. Controlled.
Introductions followed.
The dwarf was Keldric Ashmantle—son of a dwarf army general who died protecting him in battle.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly.
"It's fine," Keldric replied. "Thank you."
The elf was Kael Thorneick, son of a wealthy elven merchant.
When asked about her family, the Princess spoke first.
"Our family abandoned us. We worked hard to come here."
A lie.
A necessary one.
We sat in silence, watching moonlight dance across the lake until half the night passed.
Eventually, we parted.
Kael turned out to be my roommate.
As I lay awake, Nyx curled beside me, Aeldir's presence calm and steady, a message surfaced.
[Curse Weaver: Rest for a week. The next phase will be worse.]
I exhaled slowly.
Closed my eyes.
And welcomed the darkness.
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[A/n next ch in 4 working days]