(Three days before Sameer's escape from the Void Imperium) [Time: 3:00 PM]
Crash!
Yamin hit the floor. The cold stone scraped his skin, and a sharp pain shot up the back of his head. He gritted his teeth, forcing his face to stay blank despite the agony.
Staggering up, Yamin wiped the warm blood leaking from his nose.
Three boys stood over him, laughing. Near the door, the instructor watched them. Then, he looked away, stepped out, and closed the door behind him. He didn't care.
The leader of the trio knelt right in front of Yamin, a cruel smirk on his face.
"What's wrong, loser?" the boy sneered. "You can't even handle a basic mana test. How did trash like you get into the Royal City's best academy?"
The others burst into ugly laughter. Yamin kept his head down, staring at the blood dripping onto his shoes. In the silence of his mind, his mother's voice echoed,
"Never show your true identity or your real strength, Yamin. If they know who you are, they know how to kill you. Keep your shadow hidden."
Yamin clenched his fists. Faint sparks of blue lightning crackled under his skin, begging to rip through his veins and destroy the room.
But his mother's face flashed in his mind.
He took a slow breath and relaxed his muscles. The sparks died. He looked up at the boys, his eyes filled with pure, silent hatred.
Seeing his stare, another boy stepped forward and dumped a bottle of freezing water over Yamin's head.
"Look at our leader like that again, and you won't walk out of here alive," the boy warned.
They laughed and walked out, slamming the door.
Yamin sat alone in the quiet corridor, water and blood dripping from his chin. His ribs ached terribly. Still, he forced himself to stand and limped toward the washroom.
At the sink, he splashed cold water on his face, washing away the pink stain. He stared at his bruised reflection in the mirror.
"How did it go wrong this fast?" he whispered.
His mind drifted back to the dawn.
It began at sunrise.
Bright light pierced the narrow window crack, hitting Yamin's eyes. He woke up, stretched his sore body, and sat up.
Above him was a high ceiling covered in detailed stone carvings. He had arrived late last night in total darkness, so he hadn't noticed them. But the artwork didn't bring him peace. It made his chest heavy.
The carving showed a catastrophic battlefield covered in blood and fallen soldiers. In the center stood a warlord holding a colossal greatsword. His stone eyes looked lethal.
It was Siyam, his father.
Yamin sighed heavily. His father's name felt like an iron chain around his neck. He rubbed his face, lightly slapping his cheeks to wake up.
Looking around the empty room, he whispered into the shadows,
"No one here must ever find out who I am."
A sharp knock rattled the door.
Yamin grabbed his hair in frustration. The knock came again, louder. He got up and opened it. A strange man stood outside, staring with blank eyes. The man handed him a letter and turned around.
Yamin watched him leave. The messenger had no feet, he was levitating silently across the floor. Yamin looked at the letter. No name, no address, no stamp.
He closed the door. Threw the letter onto the bed and went to shower. When he came out, he opened the paper. It only listed a class time and a room number. The back was completely blank. Yamin frowned. Why send a floating messenger just for a room number? It made no sense, but he didn't waste time.
He got dressed and left.
The classroom was loud. It was filled with children of wealthy businessmen, famous doctors, and noble bloodlines. They already knew each other.
Yamin felt like a thorn among flowers. He was the only one from a simple village family. At least, that was the lie his parents wanted the world to believe.
He sat quietly in a dark corner. Before he could lose himself in his thoughts, someone held out a hand. Yamin looked up.
It was a tall, dark-skinned boy with a gentle smile.
"I'm Arham," the boy said directly. "I was feeling out of place here. Then I saw you sitting alone. Thought I'd say hi."
Yamin raised an eyebrow, then shook his hand. "Yamin."
Arham immediately sat next to him. He talked a lot, but Yamin didn't mind. It kept the loneliness away. By the time the bell rang, they felt like old friends.
The Principal entered first, introduced their homeroom teacher, Sir Mahim, and left.
Sir Mahim stepped up to the podium. "Introduce yourselves one by one," he commanded. "Then, come up and place your hand on the orb to measure your mana strength."
The test began. Most students got a common yellow glow. A few talented ones got sky-blue. One or two nobles got a rare dark-blue.
When Yamin touched the orb, it flared a bright sky-blue. Arham went next, and the orb glowed a deep, powerful dark-blue.
Yamin and Arham smiled, satisfied. But as they walked back to their seats, the classroom went dead silent. The noble students stared at them with angry, suspicious eyes.
To them, two nameless village boys having superior mana was an insult.
The first class ended during the introductions and tests.
As soon as the bell rang, Arham turned to Yamin. "Let's go outside. We need to check out the academy and see what we are dealing with."
Yamin looked at him, confused. "Why do you care so much?"
Arham leaned in closer. "After the first semester, everyone fights to join the best clubs. If we understand the hierarchy now, we can stay safe and avoid trouble."
They left the room and began walking through the grand hallways. Yamin watched the other students carefully. Suddenly, they heard loud shouting ahead. A large crowd had gathered in the middle of the corridor.
Curious, Yamin and Arham walked over to see what was happening.
In the center of the crowd, three boys were brutally beating a student. They called it a "mutual duel," but it was pure bullying. The student on the floor had already given up, but the boys refused to stop.
From the crowd, a student whispered to his friend, "Nabil's family is distantly related to the Royal Family. That is why he acts like he owns the place. His parents rule the city, and now their youngest son is ruining the school on his first day."
Hearing this, Yamin finally understood his mother's warning.
In this place, people judged your worth only by your status. Yamin was the son of Siyam, a legendary hero, a god-like figure to these people, and the true heir to the royal bloodline. If he revealed his name, everyone would bow to him. But he would never see how cruel the world truly was to the weak. That was why his mother had left the palace to live in a distant village.
The student on the floor groaned in pain. He could not take another hit.
Yamin broke out of his thoughts. He could not just watch. He stepped forward to save him.
Suddenly, Arham grabbed his arm from behind, whispering,
"Where are you going? Don't get involved."
Yamin did not answer. He ripped his arm away and dashed into the circle.
Boom!
Nabil was about to throw a fireball, but Yamin intercepted it. An explosion of smoke blinded the crowd. People began coughing, covering their eyes.
When the smoke cleared, the beaten student looked up. A boy was standing right in front of him like a shield. Yamin had blocked the flame with his bare arm. Skin was peeled off, and blood was dripping from his wrist.
The student, trembling and bleeding, stared at Yamin in shock. Opposite them, Nabil and his friends froze. Their faces turned pale with anger. Someone had actually dared to ruin their fun.
Nabil laughed, but his eyes were cold. "Move out of the way, peasant."
Yamin did not move. "Three against one? You should be ashamed. He already surrendered, and you still attacked him. Are you all cowards?"
Darkness settled over Nabil's face. He clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing into slits. He raised a hand, signaling his friends to stay back. He tilted his head slightly.
"Look at you, playing the hero," Nabil muttered, stepping forward. "Only those with a higher status than mine can insult me. And guess what? No one here fits that description."
Nabil rushed forward, throwing a heavy punch. Yamin moved his head slightly and dodged it easily. Nabil snapped, throwing another punch. Yamin predicted the movement and slipped under his arm.
The crowd began to giggle at Nabil's missed hits. The laughter drove Nabil insane. He stopped holding back. He unleashed a rapid barrage of fire attacks.
Yamin managed to dodge the first few, but another fireball came too fast. It blasted directly into Yamin's chest. The impact scorched his uniform, but Yamin stood his ground. He did not fall.
Anger flared inside Yamin. He locked his eyes on Nabil and clenched his fist. Blue lightning began to gather in his hand. He pulled his arm back, ready to launch a counter-punch that could crush Nabil's skull.
But a sudden thought froze him.
If I use this, I might kill him. My identity will be exposed.
He forcefully stopped his own punch, holding his power back. That single split-second mistake gave Nabil the opening he needed. Nabil tackled him to the ground, and his friends rushed in to join the beating.
(Present time — Inside the washroom)
The memory vanished. Yamin was back in front of the sink.
Suddenly, a hand touched his shoulder. Yamin flinched and turned around quickly.
Arham was standing behind him. He looked at Yamin with a worried face and held out a clean handkerchief.
"Are you okay?" Arham asked. "I called your name so many times. What were you thinking about?"
Yamin shook his head. He took the handkerchief and wiped the water and blood from his face.
Arham looked at Yamin's bruised body and sighed. "I told you not to jump into that mess. We went outside to avoid trouble, remember? Look at what they did to you."
Yamin kept his head down. He did not know why he had jumped into that mess. It was only his first day of school, and he had already created a big problem. He squeezed the handkerchief tightly in his fist.
Arham patted his shoulder. "Do you want to go to the infirmary? I heard they have a great healer there. She can fix those wounds in a second."
Yamin simply nodded.
Arham guided him out of the washroom. He kept talking along the way, but Yamin could not focus on his words. The voices around him sounded distant, like a faint breeze.
Only one dark question kept spinning in his head,
Why did the teacher look away? Was he also afraid of Nabil's power and status? He is a teacher. He has the right to punish bad students. Then why did he run away?
Lost in these thoughts, they finally reached the infirmary. Arham waited outside while Yamin went inside to get treated.
A few minutes later, a boy walked up to Arham. It was the same student Nabil had been bullying earlier. He kept his head low, his voice shaking. "How... how is he?"
Arham looked him over. "He'll be fine. What's your name?"
"Rayan," the boy whispered.
Arham introduced himself and Yamin, trying to calm the nervous boy down. Just then, the door opened and Yamin stepped out. His burns and bruises were completely gone.
Seeing him, Rayan immediately bowed his head. "Thank you for saving me back there."
Yamin smiled gently and held out his hand. "I'm Yamin."
Rayan froze in shock. He did not expect such kindness from two powerful students. He quickly wiped his sweaty hand on his uniform before shaking Yamin's hand.
Since Rayan was heading to the same class under a different department, the three of them walked back together. By the time they reached the classroom, they felt like real friends. They agreed to meet at the cafeteria right after the final bell.
The rest of the classes passed without any more fights. However, Yamin could feel dozens of cold eyes staring at him. He knew he was on everyone's radar now.
But he did not care. After the final bell, Yamin and Arham headed straight to the cafeteria. Rayan was already waiting for them at a corner table. He waved his hand to call them over.
The three boys sat down together and started eating lunch. While eating, Yamin looked at Rayan and asked directly, "Why were they targeting you? What did you do?"
Both Arham and Rayan stopped eating. They stared at Yamin in utter shock.
Arham blinked, "Wait... you really don't know anything about this place? How far away is Libra Village? Do you know nothing about the Royal City?"
Yamin looked at their shocked faces. "I lived in that village my entire life. One day, a stranger gave my mother a letter telling her to register me here. So, I came. I never cared about this city before."
Rayan took a quick sip of water, set his glass down, and leaned across the table. He whispered in a low, trembling voice, "Listen to me, Yamin. Never tell anyone else that you are from a village, or that you don't understand this city. If you do, they will see you as easy prey and hunt you down."
Arham nodded firmly, his smile completely gone. "He is right. In this academy, hierarchy is everything. The higher your family status, the more powerful you are considered. It does not matter if you are the dumbest member of a noble bloodline, your family name gives you the right to crush anyone below you."
Yamin quietly focused on his food. He hated this hierarchy. He did not care about their rules or their politics. He only came here to study, and that was all he wanted to do. His family had taught him to always help the weak, but right now, he felt completely lost. He did not know how to help others while keeping his own identity a secret.
Seeing Yamin lost in these deep, dark thoughts, Rayan quickly changed the subject to lighten the mood. Arham understood up up up the situation and joined in, talking about a completely new topic. Their friendly chatter slowly made Yamin feel a bit better, lifting the heavy weight from his mind.
By the time their classes and conversations ended, night had already fallen.
Yamin's day had been exhausting. The early morning wake-up, the brutal fight, and the endless tests on his very first day had completely drained his strength. His body felt heavy, and he could barely move his legs.
Reaching his room, he threw himself onto the bed. He stared blankly up at the detailed carvings on the high ceiling.
Suddenly, something strange caught his eye.
Yamin sat up quickly. He squinted, trying to get a better look, but it was too high up to see clearly in the dim light. Without thinking, he let his body lift off the bed. He levitated up into the air, floating closer and closer to the ceiling to inspect the carving.
When he finally saw it clearly, his eyes widened in pure shock.
He clapped his hand over his mouth to muffle a gasp. He could not believe what he was looking at. Was this real, or was his mind playing tricks on him?
He dropped out of the air, crashing hard back onto his bed. It felt as if the entire ground had been ripped out from under his feet. His breath became ragged and heavy, and his heart pounded wildly against his ribs. His blood pressure was rising fast.
He scrambled off the bed, his hands shaking. He needed answers. He dashed out of his room and headed straight toward the academy library, desperately praying that what he had just seen was a mistake.