"Alright, orientation program time."
Agni hummed as he walked alongside Lyralei through the wide corridors of the academy's main building.
The halls were impressive—vaulted ceilings decorated with murals depicting historical battles and legendary heroes, polished marble floors that reflected the morning light streaming through tall windows, banners representing all Nine Realms hanging at regular intervals.
It was fancy.
Very fancy.
Too fancy for a boring lecture, he thought.
"You know," he said, glancing at Lyralei, "they could've just given us a pamphlet with all this information instead of making us sit through hours of lecturing."
Lyralei looked skeptical.
"Did you read the orientation pamphlet they already gave us?"
Agni shook his head without hesitation.
"Nope."
"Then what makes you think a pamphlet would save you any effort?"
"It would save me sleep," Agni corrected. "I'd rather be in my room than listening to old people lecture me about passion and legacy and whatever else they think is inspiring."
Lyralei opened her mouth to respond—probably to scold him—but stopped.
Someone was blocking their path.
A young woman stood in the middle of the corridor, arms crossed, wearing the academy uniform with perfect precision.
She had long white hair tied in an elegant bun at the back of her head, with a few loose strands framing her face. Her posture was rigid—military-straight, shoulders squared, chin up.
And her eyes...
Agni blinked.
Different colors.
Right eye: deep ruby red.
Left eye: sapphire blue.
Wait.
I know this person.
He'd seen her in a photograph. One of the three potential brides his father had shown him before all this started.
Ignatia Vermillion.
Daughter of Duke Vermillion.
Fire magic. Military lineage. Instructor vibes.
Right. Same age. Same academy. Of course she'd be here.
Ignatia stepped forward, her expression calm and professional.
Her face remained perfectly blank and neutral as she bowed respectfully. "Prince Agni. It's an honor to meet you."
"Allow me to introduce myself," she continued in the same formal tone. "I am Ignatia Vermillion, sole heir of House Vermillion."
"Uh, yeah," Agni said, nodding casually. "Nice to meet you."
Ignatia straightened, her mismatched eyes focusing on him with uncomfortable intensity.
"The orientation ceremony will be held in the Grand Assembly Hall," she continued. "Prime seating has been reserved for heirs of the major noble houses—front and center.
Lyralei's smile sharpened.
"My, my," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Isn't this a bit forward? Aren't you being a little too full of yourself, Lady Vermillion?"
Ignatia halted mid-step.
Her jaw tightened imperceptibly.
Then, with visible effort, she turned toward Lyralei and offered another shallow bow.
"My apologies, Lady Valen. I meant no disrespect."
Agni yawned, scratching the back of his head.
"Sure, whatever. Lead the way. I need a comfortable seat anyway."
He walked past both of them, hands in his pockets, heading in the general direction Ignatia had been gesturing.
He turned a corner and disappeared from view.
Silence.
Lyralei and Ignatia stood in the corridor, alone.
Ignatia spoke first.
"Why are you hovering around him?" she asked bluntly, her formal politeness cracking. "Is it true? The rumors about you getting married to... to him?"
Her face was visibly twisted with anger and perhaps something else—jealousy, maybe, or wounded pride.
Lyralei smiled pleasantly, though her eyes held no warmth. "Come now, don't act so surprised. Wasn't it obvious this would happen eventually?"
She paused, and her grin widened as she looked Ignatia up and down with deliberate slowness. "Look at yourself, Lady Ignatia. Think a little. How could you even imagine that we stand on similar footing?"
The words were delivered with surgical precision, designed to cut deep. Ignatia's heterochromatic eyes widened, and her jaw clenched tight.
Lyralei didn't wait for a response. She turned gracefully and followed Agni.
Agni stood in front of a row of seats, staring in confusion.
There are... a lot of different designs.
The Grand Assembly Hall was enormous—easily large enough to hold over a thousand people. The seating was arranged in tiered sections, each one designated for a specific realm or faction.
And each section had its own aesthetic.
The Elf Realm seats were carved from living wood, still growing, with vines and flowers woven into the armrests. They looked like thrones made by nature itself.
The Dwarf Realm seats were solid stone, reinforced with metal, built to last a thousand years and probably uncomfortable as hell.
The Beastkin Tribes had cushioned seats covered in fur and leather, low to the ground, designed for comfort over formality.
And the Sun Empire section...
Agni squinted.
Where the hell is it?
"You're looking at the Elf Realm seats."
Lyralei's voice came from behind him.
He turned.
She was standing a few paces back, arms crossed, looking faintly amused.
"Ours is that way," she said, nodding toward the right.
"Ah. Right."
He followed her.
Honestly, Lyralei thought as they walked, dealing with the likes of her is so annoying.
Like a thorn stuck in my foot.
I can't crush her because of whose daughter she is. But I can't ignore her either.
Her lips twitched.
Still...
It was satisfying to see her face.
Lyralei heard the whispers.
"...did you see Prince Agni when he arrived?"
"Compared to the Hero and Prince Cassius... it was bad."
"Bad? It was trash. I heard he showed up in rags, stinking like a corpse."
"I saw him. I thought it was a beggar until Lady Valen greeted him."
"His entrance was... remarkable in its own way, I guess."
"Who's gonna say anything, though? He's still a prince. Even if people look down on him, they can't look down on the throne he'll inherit."
Lyralei's eye twitched.
They're talking about his entrance.
Just... his appearance.
She groaned internally.
If I'm married to him, they'll start looking down on me too.
Her mind conjured an image—herself, dressed in rags, hair a mess, stinking like week-old garbage, standing beside Agni as the laughingstock of the entire academy.
A shiver ran down her spine.
She shook her head alittle.
No. Never. I'm better than that.
They reached the Sun Empire section and took their seats—ornate chairs upholstered in deep red fabric with gold embroidery, the imperial sun crest stitched into the backrest.
Comfortable. Elegant.
She pulled a small velvet pouch from her bag and extracted a Chocolate Sphere—one of the handmade confections she'd prepared earlier. Dark chocolate coating with a cream center, infused with just a hint of cinnamon.
She popped it into her mouth and chewed, savoring the taste.
At least I have this.
Agni's hand shot out.
He grabbed her wrist.
Lyralei froze, eyes going wide.
He's... holding my hand?
Now?
In front of everyone?
Her face flushed.
Is this some kind of public display of—
"I meant the chocolate," Agni said, looking confused.
"...What?"
"The chocolate. Can I have one?"
Lyralei stared at him.
At his completely oblivious expression.
At his hand, still wrapped around her wrist.
At the absolutely punchable face he was making.
Wordlessly, she handed him the entire box, her face burning with embarrassment and anger.
His face is so punchable right now, she thought darkly as Agni happily munched on three chocolate balls at once.
Before she could say anything, Professor Marcus Thornfield stepped onto the stage at the front of the Grand Assembly Hall.
The orientation program was being coordinated by senior faculty members, and as Professor Marcus took the enchanted microphone, the ambient noise in the hall gradually faded to silence. His voice, amplified by the Acoustic Enhancement Crystal embedded in the podium, carried clearly to every corner of the massive room.
"Welcome, young mages and martial artists," he began with practiced authority. "Welcome to all who represent the countless spectrum of talents gathered here today."
His gaze swept across the assembled students—humans, elves, dwarves, beastkin, and others all seated together.
"Aethermoor Academy has always been a union for all races and walks of life to thrive, innovate, and learn together. Here, there are no enemies—only rivals who sharpen each other like blades against whetstones. This institution has stood as a center of knowledge and power for three thousand and ninety-eight years, because of the values it represents."
He paused for effect, letting that impressive number sink in.
"From these very halls, we have raised heroes who successfully defended our world against ten separate Demon King invasions. Ten times, when darkness threatened to consume everything, graduates of this Academy stood as humanity's shield..."
As the speech continued with predictable inspirational rhetoric, Lyralei focused intently. Something about the situation bothered her.
"The Principal usually gives the opening speech," she murmured quietly. "It seems the senior faculty are handling orientation this time instead."
Agni hummed in acknowledgment, already slouching deeper into his seat. A huge yawn escaped him.
"Who cares? It's gonna be the same boasting about how great the Academy is anyway." He smacked his lips appreciatively. "But seriously, those chocolate balls were really sweet. Where do you get them?"
"I made them myself," Lyralei said with obvious pride, then immediately hissed in anger. "Of course they were tasty—I made them! And her mind raced, they would have tasted even better if you'd eaten them slowly instead of chewing them like potato chips! You're supposed to let them melt on your tongue, you barbarian!"
She took a deep breath and forced her expression back to a pleasant smile, though her eye twitched slightly. "Anyway, bastard, the Principal giving the speech is traditional. We would have gotten to hear different stories—personal accounts from the hero himself."
"Bastard?" Agni blinked. "Why are you calling me—"
Lyralei quickly changed the topic before he could pursue that line of questioning. "You see, the Principal was a hero from the previous Demon King invasion. Just like Draekon is the Hero of this era, Principal Rae was the Hero of his time."
That caught Agni's attention slightly. "Oh yeah? What's so special about him?"
"What's special?" Lyralei looked at him like he'd just asked why water was wet. "He was unparalleled. He actually studied at this very Academy as a student, graduated at the top of his academy, and then went on to defeat the Demon King practically single-handedly. His talent was flawless, his strength was beyond measure, and his achievements are still taught in history classes across every kingdom."
She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a more reverent tone. "He's called the strongest hero of all time. Even after three hundred years, no one has surpassed his records."
"Really? The strongest?" Agni sounded skeptical.
"Really!" Lyralei insisted. "There are stories about him dueling entire armies and winning. About casting spells that reshaped landscapes. About—"
"Strongest, huh," Agni interrupted thoughtfully. Then his expression shifted back to confusion. "Hey, what did you mean by calling me 'bastard' earlier anyway?"
Lyralei mentally cursed his occasional moments of actual attention. "Forget that. The point is, the Principal normally gives the orientation speech because it's inspiring to hear from a living legend. But he's away right now, it seems."
She sighed. "It's a shame. New students usually get to at least see him on their first day."
Agni hummed noncommittally. "Must be an amazing academy then, if it's got someone like that running it."
"Of course it is!" Lyralei scoffed. "That's why it stands alone as neutral ground. The Academy doesn't lean on other powers or take sides in political conflicts. Earlier in its history, it used to be shaky during political storms—different kingdoms would try to influence or control it. But from Principal Rae's era onward, it's remained completely independent."
She gestured vaguely at the assembled students around them. "Even during turbulent times like these, with tensions rising between kingdoms, this place remains untouched. That's how strong the Principal's reputation is.
"You're exaggerating," Agni said flatly. "Nobody's that strong."
"I'm not!" Lyralei protested. "You should see it yourself when you meet him. He's the only living person who can wield pure Light Magic—not holy magic like priests use, but the original, purest form. He even surpassed the first hero who fought during the Age of Gods."
Another massive yawn interrupted her explanation. Agni's eyes were drooping closed.
His eyes closed.
His head tilted to the side.
And within seconds, he was asleep.
Lyralei's eyes widened in horror.
"Wake up!" she hissed, pinching his cheek. "You idiot—we're in the middle of orientation!"
Agni mumbled something incomprehensible and kept sleeping.
Professor Marcus was still speaking on stage, completely unaware.
Lyralei glanced around.
A few students were staring at them.
Including Professor Helena, whose glare could have melted steel.
Lyralei sighed and released Agni's cheek.
Fine.
Sleep well, Prince.
Lyralei forced herself to pay attention, taking mental notes on everything important.
Someone had to, after all.
And the sleeping prince beside her clearly wasn't going to be that someone.