The academy grounds were packed.
Three hundred new students filled the main courtyard, divided into groups by rank. S-Rank candidates stood at the front, looking confident. F-Rank candidates—just King and Marcus—stood at the very back.
"This feels symbolic," Marcus muttered.
King looked around. Everyone was dressed in academy uniforms now—black jackets with silver trim, white shirts underneath, practical pants and boots. He'd received his this morning from a supply officer who'd stared at him for a full minute before handing over the clothes.
The uniform fit perfectly, which was surprising since King had materialized his mortal form without considering clothing sizes.
"Welcome," Director Wise's voice rang out across the courtyard. She stood on a raised platform, arms spread. "To Magic Knights Academy of Avalon. You three hundred represent the best of this year's applicants. You've earned your place here through skill, determination, and talent."
Not all of us, King thought, glancing at Marcus. Some earned it through stubbornness.
"The academy operates on a ranking system," the Director continued. "Your rank determines your privileges, resources, and opportunities. S-Rank students receive private rooms and advanced training. A through C-Rank students share dormitories and standard curriculum. D and F-Rank students..." She paused. "Will need to work harder."
Whispers rippled through the crowd.
"But," Director Wise raised her voice, "ranks are not permanent. Monthly evaluations allow advancement or demotion. Prove yourself, and rise. Stagnate, and fall. The choice is yours."
Everything here is competition, King observed. They've structured their entire education around fighting each other.
"You'll now be assigned dormitories," the Director said. "Follow your group leaders. Classes begin tomorrow at dawn. Don't be late."
Instructors moved through the crowd, calling out names and forming groups.
"F-Rank students," Instructor Gray's voice cut through the noise. "With me."
---
King and Marcus followed her. They were joined by two others—Nero and Dante.
"Wait," Marcus said. "You're in our dorm group?"
"Requested it," Dante said. "Figured we'd be more interesting than whatever noble brats they'd stick me with."
"I bribed a records clerk," Nero added cheerfully. "Cost me half my entrance money, but worth it."
Gray led them across campus to a building that looked... worn. Not falling apart, but clearly older than the pristine structures housing higher ranks.
"This is Tower Four," Gray said, stopping at the entrance. "Your home for this semester. Four to a room. Figure out your own sleeping arrangements."
She unlocked the door and handed Marcus a key. "Room 3-A. Third floor. Try not to burn it down."
"That happened once," Dante said.
"I know. I read your file." Gray fixed King with a stare. "Especially you. No incidents. No mysterious power displays. No confusing the staff."
"I'll try," King said.
"Trying isn't good enough." She turned and left without another word.
The four of them stood in the entrance hall. It smelled like old wood and dust.
"Cozy," Nero said.
They climbed to the third floor. The stairs creaked under their weight. Room 3-A was at the end of the hallway.
Marcus unlocked it.
The room was larger than King expected—four beds, four desks, a shared bathroom, and a window overlooking the training grounds. Simple but functional.
"I've lived in worse," Dante said, dropping his bag on a bed.
"I've lived in better," Nero said, claiming the bed by the window. "But this'll do."
Marcus took the bed near the door. That left the one in the corner for King.
A corner bed, King thought, sitting on it. Away from the door. Quiet spot. This is nice.
"So," Nero said, sprawling on his bed. "We're roommates now. That means we need rules."
"Rules?" Marcus asked.
"Living rules. Like, don't touch my stuff. Don't wake me before dawn unless the building's on fire. Don't ask about my past unless you're prepared for creative lies."
"Fair," Dante said. "My rules: Don't interrupt my training. Don't question my scars. Don't assume I'm dangerous just because I was a gladiator."
"You are dangerous," Marcus pointed out.
"I said don't assume. There's a difference." Dante looked at King. "What about you?"
King thought about it. "Don't... expect me to make sense?"
"Already failed that one," Nero said. "But we'll try."
"And you?" Dante asked Marcus.
"Just... don't give up on me," Marcus said quietly. "I'm F-Rank. I'll probably fail a lot. But I'm trying, so don't give up on me."
The room went quiet for a moment.
"Deal," Dante said.
"Agreed," Nero added.
"I won't," King said.
Marcus smiled. "Thanks, guys."
---
A bell chimed across campus—loud, resonating, impossible to ignore.
"That's the tour bell," Nero said, sitting up. "We're supposed to meet our guide in the main courtyard."
They headed back downstairs. Other students were emerging from their dorm buildings, all moving toward the courtyard.
King noticed the separation immediately. S-Rank students walked together, confident and relaxed. Lower ranks grouped by their levels, each cluster eyeing the others warily.
They're already establishing hierarchies, King thought. Deciding who's worth knowing based on power rankings.
Their tour guide was a second-year student named Felix—A-Rank, according to his uniform badge. He looked bored already.
"Right," Felix said without enthusiasm. "Follow me. Try to keep up."
He led them through campus at a brisk pace, pointing at buildings without much explanation.
"That's the combat training hall. Classes twice a week. Don't die." He gestured at another building. "Library. Books and stuff. Don't steal anything." Another building. "Cafeteria. Food's terrible. Eat it anyway."
"He's very thorough," Nero whispered.
They passed an enormous arena—easily large enough to hold five thousand people.
"Tournament grounds," Felix said. "Monthly ranking matches held here. Winners climb, losers fall. It's dramatic and violent and everyone watches."
"Monthly tournaments?" Marcus asked nervously.
"Mandatory participation for all students. You'll fight someone in your rank bracket. Win enough, you advance. Lose enough, you get demoted or expelled." Felix looked at them. "F-Rank students usually don't last long."
"Encouraging," Nero muttered.
They continued the tour. Administration building, medical wing, training facilities. Each area was more impressive than the last.
Finally, they reached the central plaza—a massive open space with a fountain in the middle.
"This is the plaza," Felix said. "Students gather here between classes. Also where most fights happen."
"Fights?" Marcus asked.
"Duels, arguments, territorial disputes. Academy technically forbids it but doesn't really enforce the rule." Felix checked his watch. "That's the tour. Any questions?"
"What happens if an F-Rank student defeats an S-Rank?" King asked.
Felix laughed. "That doesn't happen."
"But hypothetically," King pressed.
"Hypothetically, they'd probably get investigated for cheating. Or using forbidden magic. Or being a demon in disguise." Felix shrugged. "But it won't happen, so don't worry about it."
He left them in the plaza.
"Well," Nero said. "That was enlightening."
"He seemed nice," King said.
"He seemed like he hated his life," Marcus corrected.
---
A commotion erupted near the fountain. Students were gathering in a circle, the way crowds do when something interesting is happening.
King walked over to look.
In the center of the circle, two students faced off. One was a noble-looking boy with expensive accessories. The other was a smaller girl with determination in her eyes.
"You bumped into me," the noble said.
"It was an accident," the girl replied.
"Accidents require apologies."
"I said sorry!"
"Not sincerely enough." The noble's hand began to glow with fire magic. "Maybe I should teach you proper respect."
The crowd watched. Some looked excited. Others uncomfortable. No one intervened.
They're just going to let this happen, King realized.
"Someone should stop this," Marcus said quietly.
"Someone will get hurt if they try," Dante said. "That's how these things work."
The noble raised his hand, fire intensifying.
King stepped forward.
"Excuse me," he said politely.
Everyone turned to look at him.
"Who the hell are you?" the noble asked.
"King Von Deluxh. F-Rank. Room 3-A." King looked at the fire in the noble's hand. "Could you not do that?"
"Could I not—" The noble laughed. "You're F-Rank and you're telling me what to do?"
"I'm asking," King clarified. "There's a difference."
"Get lost before I burn you too."
"Please don't burn anyone," King said. "It seems unnecessary."
The noble sneered. "You want to protect her? Fine. Then you face me instead."
Oh, King thought. This is a duel situation. I've read about these.
"Okay," King said.
The crowd murmured excitedly. Someone shouted "F-Rank versus C-Rank!" like it was entertainment.
The noble released the girl and turned fully toward King. "Name's Victor. Victor Kane. C-Rank Fire Manipulation talent. Remember it before you get expelled for losing to me."
"I don't think I'll get expelled," King said.
"Confident for someone who can't even register on assessment crystals." Victor's fire magic flared brighter. "Let me educate you on reality."
He fired.
A lance of flame shot toward King's chest—concentrated heat capable of melting steel.
King raised one finger.
He tapped the flame.
Just tapped it. The gentlest possible contact.
The fire dispersed instantly, dissipating into harmless sparks that floated away like fireflies.
Silence.
Victor stared at his empty hand. "What did you just—"
King took a step forward. Just a normal step, no force behind it.
The ground cracked beneath his foot.
Oh no, King thought. That was too hard. I'm still not calibrated properly.
"Stay back!" Victor fired again, this time multiple lances from different angles.
King sidestepped them all. Each movement minimal, precise, exactly what was needed and nothing more.
To everyone watching, it looked like the flames were avoiding him.
"How are you—" Victor poured more power into his magic. The temperature rose. Students backed away from the heat.
King caught the next flame with his hand. Held it like it was a physical object.
"This is dangerous," King said, looking at the fire in his palm. "Someone could get hurt."
He closed his hand.
The flame went out.
Not dispersed. Not blocked. Just... stopped existing because King decided it should.
Victor's face went pale. "That's impossible. You can't just—fire doesn't work that way!"
"It's very warm," King said. "You're skilled at making it."
"I'm skilled—you just negated it with your bare hand!"
"Should I not have?" King asked genuinely. "I was trying to be gentle."
"Gentle?!" Victor's voice cracked. "You're F-Rank! How are you doing this?!"
Instructor Gray's voice cut through the plaza. "STUDENTS! Dueling is forbidden on campus grounds!"
Everyone scattered immediately. Victor ran without looking back.
King stood alone in the center of the circle, confused.
Gray marched up to him. "Didn't I just tell you no incidents?"
"He was going to hurt that girl," King said.
"So you intervened. Publicly. In front of half the first-year class." Gray pinched the bridge of her nose. "Do you know what you just did?"
"Stopped a duel?"
"You made yourself a target!" Gray looked around at the dispersing crowd. "Every student here now knows an F-Rank just humiliated a C-Rank. That makes you either incredibly powerful or incredibly lucky. Either way, people will want to test you."
"Oh," King said. "That's bad?"
"Yes! That's—" Gray stopped herself, taking a breath. "Just... get back to your dorm. Stay out of trouble until classes start tomorrow."
She left, muttering about impossible students and early retirement.
Marcus, Nero, and Dante approached cautiously.
"That was amazing," Marcus said.
"That was stupid," Dante countered. "But also amazing."
"You just painted a target on all our backs," Nero said cheerfully. "We're roommates with the mysterious F-Rank who beats C-Ranks. Everyone's going to want a piece of us now."
"Sorry," King said.
"Don't be. This'll be fun." Nero grinned. "Boring is worse than dangerous."
They headed back toward their dorm. Behind them, the plaza buzzed with excited conversation about what they'd just witnessed.
King looked up at the sky. Clouds drifted past peacefully.
First day isn't even over, he thought. And I've already caused three incidents. Maybe four. I'm losing count.
But his friends were still beside him. Still choosing to walk with him despite the attention he attracted.
That has to count for something, King decided.
The bell chimed again—dinner time, apparently.
"Food?" Nero suggested.
"Food," everyone agreed.
They walked toward the cafeteria together, four outcasts who'd somehow found each other in a system designed to keep them apart.
Tomorrow would bring classes, challenges, and probably more incidents.
But tonight, King was learning that having roommates meant never eating alone.
And that seemed worth all the confusion he caused.