The carriage rattled on, the clatter of wheels a constant hum in the background. The fields outside had given way to rolling hills, the sky turning a deeper gray as afternoon slipped toward evening. The air felt heavier now, thin strands of mana swirling more thickly, like living mist curling around the lantern posts along the road.
Inside, the conversation ebbed and flowed, mostly driven by Taren's boasts and Elira's measured responses. Silas chimed in here and there, his words careful. I listened more than I spoke, piecing together this world one fragment at a time.
Taren was complaining about the ride. "This carriage is a joke. High Nobles like Elira should have their own transport. Not crammed in with… well, you know."
Elira gave a small smile, but her eyes stayed sharp."It's the same for everyone on the entrance route. Builds character, or so they say."
Silas nodded.
"True. The academy doesn't play favorites until after the tests."
The tightness in my chest lingered from earlier. The terms, the ranks… they felt like echoes.
Why does this all sound so strangly familiar?
I decided to push a little further.
"You mentioned mana-core earlier. What's that exactly?"
Elira straightened slightly, her eyes lighting up like a model student eager to explain.
"The mana-core is the heart of everything. It's an organ in your chest—about fist-sized—where mana is stored, refined, and circulated through your meridians. Everyone has one, but its quality varies."
She didn't hesitate.
"Commoners usually have smaller, weaker cores. Slow absorption. Low capacity. Nobles with bloodlines? Ours are denser, more efficient from birth."
She gestured to her own chest.
"Think of it as a battery. You absorb mana from the air, food, or meditation, and the core processes it into usable energy for spells and skills. Push it with training, and it grows—helping you break through to higher realms like Adept or Expert."
Taren leaned in, smirking.
"But if you push too far? It cracks. Overdraw mana, and you're in trouble. Fatigue. Headaches. Leaks."
He paused deliberately.
"But if it's completely destroyed…"
He shook his head with mock pity.
"Then you are.. lets say—Utterly fucked. No more magic. Constant pain. Half a life at best. Healers can patch minor damage with elixirs or rituals, but a shattered core?"
He snorted.
"You're finished as a mage. Might as well go back to farming."
Silas added quietly, staring ahead. "It's rare, but it happens. Duels. Bad missions. The academy warns about it on day one."
A chill ran down my spine.
Mana-core. Shattered.
The words.. everything echoed strangely in my mind, like something out of a story I'd read once. Familiar—yet just out of reach.
I nodded, keeping my expression neutral.
"Sounds rough. So the academy helps build it up?"
Elira smiled, instructive as ever.
"That's the point. Classes, duels, mana-rich environments—they all push your core. But only if you have the foundation. Bloodlines make the difference."
Taren laughed.
"Yeah, good luck, commoner. Hope your core doesn't pop like a bad balloon."
I let the comment slide, but one word stuck.
Realms.
Breakthroughs. Ranks. Progression.
This sounds like a system.
I probed further.
"You mentioned realms like Adept or Expert. Are there more?"
Elira leaned forward, clearly enjoying the chance to explain.
"The power ranks measure a mage's or warrior's strength. It starts with Awakening—when your core first activates. Usually around twelve to sixteen, if you have talent. Then Novice or Initiate: basic control, simple spells."
She counted on her fingers.
"Adept comes next. Advanced techniques, multiple elements.
Expert: strong magic, visible auras.
Master: you create your own styles.
Grandmaster: bending natural laws."
Her voice dropped slightly.
"And Legendary… or Sovereign. That's demigod level. Influencing fate itself."
She smiled.
"The academy will explain it all during orientation. But bloodlines determine how fast you climb. Commoners rarely get past Adept."
Taren snorted.
"If they get that far at all."
Silas said nothing this time, staring out the window.
Elira smiled, instructive as ever. "That's the point. Classes, duels, mana-rich environments—they all push your core. But only if you have the foundation. Bloodlines make the difference."
Taren laughed. "Yeah, good luck, commoner. Hope your core doesn't pop like a bad balloon."
I let the comment slide, but the word "classes" stuck in my mind. Classes, duels… it sounded like a school, but with stakes.
I decided to probe a little more. "Speaking of the academy—do all first-years live in the same dormitory?"
Elira answered first, her tone matter-of-fact, like a model student explaining a simple lesson. "Technically, yes. But the wings are divided by rank. High Nobles like me get the upper floors—private rooms, personal mana conduits for training, servants on call. Low Nobles are in the middle tiers—shared suites, but still decent access to resources."
She paused, her eyes flicking to me with a hint of pity. "F-Class, though… that's the lower basement wing. Shared rooms for ten or more, basic mana flow, no luxuries. It's meant to 'motivate' you to climb the ranks quickly."
Taren grinned. "Motivate? More like weed out the weak. Hope you like damp walls and snoring commoners, Vale."
Silas shifted. "The rules allow training in the main halls for anyone, regardless of class. If you're good enough, you can petition for an upgrade after the first term."
I nodded, filing it away.
The hierarchy wasn't just talk—it was built into every part of this world.
The conversation drifted after that, but the tightness in my chest remained.
Mana-core. Realms. Bloodlines.
The words echoed again, like fragments of a story I should remember.
Outside, the landscape changed. Rolling hills dotted with ancient stone markers, faint blue runes glowing along their surfaces. The air felt thicker here—charged—like the mana itself was denser.
Elira noticed my stare.
"Ley line markers. The empire's borders. Mana flows stronger near the capital. You'll feel it once we cross."
I murmured agreement, eyes fixed on the horizon.
Taren followed my gaze.
"First time seeing ley markers? They keep the borders safe from abyss rifts. Nasty stuff if they open."
Elira nodded.
"Especially with the Aschenmoonprophecy. When the Aschenmoon is full, the rifts widen. Demons pour in. That's what the academy prepares us for."
Aschenmoon.
Prophecy.
Another chill crawled up my spine. The words struck like a wave, stirring something deep inside.
I've heard this before.
I forced a casual tone.
"Aschenmoon? What's that?"
Silas answered, voice low.
"A blood-red moon that appears every few years. The prophecy says it heralds the return of the Aschenfürst—a sovereign from the Abyss. If he rises, the world ends."
He hesitated.
"But there's a heroine destined to stop it. Or so the legends say."
Elira smiled faintly.
"Old tales. But the academy takes them seriously. That's why we're all here—to get stronger."
The words lingered.
Heroine.
Aschenfürst.
Prophecy.
The puzzle pieces were piling up, each one more familiar than the last.
I leaned back, staring out the window as the border loomed closer—a massive gate flanked by glowing towers, the crest of the Celestine Empire shining above.
The quiet voice in my mind whispered louder now:
You already know all of this.
You just don't remember where from.