The city that housed the Academy didn't have a name, not in any formal sense. Locals and travelers alike just called it the Nexus — a melting pot of talent, ambition, and power, wedged at the volatile borders of three nations. It wasn't owned by any of them, yet protected by all. Neutral ground. Sacred ground. No flags flew here but the Academy's.
Kael and Rys had barely slept the night before. The moment the gates opened, they'd pressed through the crowd, taken in by the scale of the city. Compared to Glintvale, this place moved like a living machine — pulsing with opportunity, teeming with pressure. It was exhilarating. It was terrifying. It was exactly where they needed to be.
The auction was held in a towering coliseum-like structure — the Guild Arena, temporarily repurposed for the event. Kael hadn't expected to feel nervous walking into a place they knew they couldn't afford. Yet here they were, shoulders tight, eyes scanning the already assembling crowd of merchants, nobles, and quiet figures who clearly weren't either.
"I heard last year's highest bid was in the low adamants," Rys muttered, falling in beside Kael as they approached one of the side balconies designated for public viewing.
Kael raised a brow. "You mean hundreds of platinum?"
"No," Rys said, voice low. "I mean adamant coins. One adamant is twelve platinums."
Kael blinked. "There's a coin above platinum?"
"Apparently there's two." Rys glanced at him, mouth twitching. "You really didn't pay attention when people talked money?"
"I knew up to platinum. That felt excessive already."
They settled at the balcony just as the announcer's voice echoed magically through the space. The main auction was about to begin.
Each slot was auctioned one at a time, ten in total. As the bids started, Kael couldn't help leaning in. The crowd was split — some openly flamboyant with their gestures, others sending signals through subtle hand movements to stone-faced intermediaries. The bids were called out in values they barely understood.
___
[ MONETARY SYSTEM & EXCHANGE RATES ]
Coin Type | Value in Previous Coin | Value in Copper | Abbreviation
-------------|------------------------|------------------|--------------
Copper | – | 1 | C
Tin | 12 Copper | 12 | T
Bronze | 12 Tin | 144 | B
Silver | 12 Bronze | 1,728 | S
Gold | 12 Silver | 20,736 | G
Platinum | 12 Gold | 248,832 | P
Adamant | 12 Platinum | 2,985,984 | A
Mythril | 12 Adamant | 35,831,808 | M
[ AVERAGE MONTHLY COST OF LIVING ]=l
Settlement | Low-End Lifestyle | Comfortable Lifestyle | Luxury Lifestyle
Type | (Copper Equivalent) | (Copper Equivalent) | (Copper Equivalent)
-----------|---------------------|-----------------------|---------------------
Village | 300 C (25 T) | 2,000 C (139 T) | 10,000 C (70 B)
Town | 600 C (50 T) | 3,500 C (243 T) | 18,000 C (125 B)
City | 1,200 C (100 T) | 6,000 C (417 T) | 30,000 C (208 B)
NOTES:
- Values are monthly averages for a single adult.
- "Comfortable" includes modest housing, food, gear maintenance.
- Academy City costs are slightly reduced due to subsidies.
- High-tier services (e.g. enchantments) may require Platinum+ or barter.
___
Slot after slot vanished to strangers with deep pockets and serious ambition. Not one winner looked like they planned to show up to class unprepared. These weren't desperate dreamers; they were calculated investors in power.
Somewhere deep in the crowd, a young woman caught Kael's attention. She wasn't bidding — not yet — but the way she watched the stage reminded him of a hawk spotting a rabbit. Her posture was composed, her aura quiet yet unreadably intense. Kael felt a strange pull toward her, but forced himself to look away. He couldn't explain it, and now wasn't the time.
By the end of the tenth slot, the arena buzzed with excitement and resentment in equal measure. Whispers danced through the crowd about which bidders were minor royalty, which ones were already masters in their own right, and whether any had tried to rig the order of the auction itself.
Kael and Rys said nothing. They left the balcony in silence, each processing the scale of what they'd just witnessed.
"They're not planning to fail," Kael said finally, once they were outside the arena.
"Neither are we," Rys said, firmly.
Kael gave him a sidelong glance. "No gold? No platinum? No chance?"
"Then we win our way in." Rys smiled, resolute. "Like we always do."
Kael looked back toward the Arena, then up toward the looming silhouette of the Academy visible in the distance — its towers lit with arcane light, pulsing like a beacon.
Tomorrow, the preliminaries would begin. And they would fight for their place — with no money, no favors, no safety net.
Just skill, will, and whatever luck the world hadn't already spent on someone richer.
___
Kael shifted his weight from one foot to the other as the last name was called out at the check-in station, heart thudding with anticipation and the faintest edge of nerves. The registration official, a thin older woman with slate-gray hair and an authoritative tone, raised a brow at the turnout.
"Looks like we've got room for eleven this year," she murmured to a nearby staffer, marking the parchment with a quick slash of her pen. "One more than expected."
Kael and Rys exchanged glances. The official didn't clarify why there was an extra slot, but they both silently guessed what it meant — someone had dropped out too late to sell their slot properly, forcing a last-minute expansion to the preliminary bracket.
Once the line moved forward, Kael and Rys stepped into a holding area where the other competitors gathered. There was a thick tension in the air — not hostility, just an undercurrent of purpose. These weren't amateurs. Every single person here was fighting for a place in the tournament, and more than that, for a shot at something bigger.
They didn't wait long before the loud horn echoed across the stadium grounds.
A magical projection flared to life in the sky above, displaying the names of the eleven participants and announcing the beginning of the Preliminaries for Academy Entry – Year 547.
Below that floated the names of the three challenges they would face:
1. Trial of Endurance
2. Arcane Relay
3. Tactical Gauntlet
Each would be graded on three student-voted criteria from the previous year's tournament. Those criteria wouldn't be revealed until after each event — to ensure that no one could game the system. The final tenth category would be overall showmanship, judged based on confidence, flair, and consistency across all three events.
Kael caught himself grinning. He liked structure. But more than that — he liked chaos just as much. This blend of the two was perfect.
---
Event One: Trial of Endurance
They were dropped in pairs onto the uneven, weather-worn terrain of a magically maintained wasteland. The goal: run, climb, crawl, and survive through an eight-kilometer obstacle course riddled with timed traps, illusions, and misdirection.
Kael blazed through the first half, making use of both brute stamina and uncanny spatial awareness. While others hesitated at illusionary forks or fake dead-ends, he pressed through confidently. It wasn't about speed alone — it was about reading the terrain and adapting.
Rys struggled early on but picked up rhythm about halfway in, compensating for raw speed with clever planning and safe routes.
---
Event Two: Arcane Relay
This one got Kael's blood pumping. Magic.
Each contestant was required to carry a magical token through a series of obstacles that only opened in response to spellcasting — levitation gates, magical force fields, summoned beasts, and illusion mazes.
"Any discipline is allowed," the judge announced. "Though creativity and control are emphasized."
Kael exhaled slowly, rolled his shoulders, and took off.
He glided over levitation gates with wind manipulation and carved through summoned beasts with precisely honed kinetic pulses. When he reached the illusion maze, he didn't hesitate. He knew it wasn't real — but even so, the way his own mother's dying scream echoed in that illusory space shook something in him. Still, he pressed on.
By the time he finished, the crowd had taken notice.
Even some of the judges whispered among themselves.
Rys handled the event more conservatively — leaning on defensive spells and working through puzzles methodically. They weren't fast, but they were reliable. One of the judges nodded in appreciation.
---
Event Three: Tactical Gauntlet
The final event was a simulated team battle — in which no one had a team.
It was a rotating field match. Each participant was dropped into the arena alone, their position changing every 60 seconds. Their job? Control the central tower for as long as possible during a ten-minute cycle.
Kael didn't aim for domination — he aimed for efficiency.
He ambushed, relocated, defended — never staying long enough to be a target. When the timer buzzed at the end of the match, he'd clocked just over two minutes on the tower — but had disrupted others far more than anyone had disrupted him.
Rys had one moment of brilliance. They created a terrain-shifting trap beneath one of the heavier competitors, turning them into a blundering mess that slid halfway out of bounds before recovering.
It was enough to earn a few claps.
---
The horn sounded again. A rush of applause swept through the stadium, followed by silence as everyone waited for scores — which wouldn't be delivered until the following day.
Kael and Rys left the arena grounds, breathless and sore, but energized. They stopped outside the central plaza, sitting on the edge of a fountain as people milled around.
"Not bad," Rys said, rubbing their arms. "Not amazing… but not bad."
Kael tilted his head. "You didn't fry. That's all that matters."
"You think we made it?" Rys asked, quieter now.
Kael considered. "I think… you barely scraped by. But you did scrape. I can feel it."
Rys smirked. "And you?"
Kael's grin widened. "I'm betting top three."
Rys stared, then laughed. "You're so modest."
Kael just winked, then stretched back, letting the cool breeze brush his face.
Tomorrow, they'd learn the truth.
___
The crowd of participants buzzed like a disturbed hive, nerves strung tight in the final moments before the announcement. Whispers passed like wind—bets made, guesses whispered, and theories spun—but everything went silent as the announcer stepped up onto the stage.
A crystal-clear voice boomed through the courtyard. "This year's top eleven contenders in the preliminaries have been decided. Their scores are as follows."
Kael's hands gripped the edge of the bench tightly. Rys stood beside him, not saying a word, just watching.
The announcer raised a glowing scroll and read:
> 1st – Anya Virell – Score: 95
2nd – Joran Wesk – Score: 93
3rd – Kael Dareth – Score: 92
4th – Tessa Myrin – Score: 91
5th – Brax Colven – Score: 89 (tied) (Elapsed Time: 17:46)
6th – Senn Alder – Score: 89 (tied) (Elapsed Time: 18:02)
7th – Lilin Farro – Score: 87
8th – Marek Sulen – Score: 85
9th – Rennic Solm – Score: 84
10th – Thera Quinlan – Score: 83
11th – Rys Fenric – Score: 81 (tied) (Elapsed Time: 19:21)
12th – Ellar Trone – Score: 81 (tied) (Elapsed Time: 19:38)
Cheers and groans erupted at once. Some contestants collapsed in relief. Others scowled. Ellar stomped off before the scroll had even rolled itself up.
Kael turned to Rys, eyebrows high. "You made it."
"Barely," Rys laughed, shaking his head. "That time thing nearly killed me."
They didn't have long to celebrate. A tournament staffer moved through the crowd handing out sealed envelopes, each marked with the Academy's crest. Kael and Rys tore theirs open side by side.
Inside, a neat list of scores:
---
Preliminary Score Report
Name: Kael Dareth
Event 1 – Obstacle Sprint
Speed: 8
Efficiency: 7
Accuracy: 7
Event 2 – Tactical Maze
Strategy: 9
Completion Time: 8
Resource Use: 9
Event 3 – Spell Duel Arena (Magic-Focused)
Spell Control: 10
Power Output: 9
Defensive Timing: 9
Showmanship Score: 6
Total Score: 92
Total Elapsed Time: 15:34
---
Kael smirked. "Spell duel really carried me."
Rys grunted and handed Kael his own paper.
---
Preliminary Score Report
Name: Rys Fenric
Event 1 – Obstacle Sprint
Speed: 6
Efficiency: 6
Accuracy: 5
Event 2 – Tactical Maze
Strategy: 7
Completion Time: 6
Resource Use: 6
Event 3 – Spell Duel Arena
Spell Control: 8
Power Output: 7
Defensive Timing: 8
Showmanship Score: 6
Total Score: 81
Total Elapsed Time: 19:21
---
Kael whistled. "Honestly? You held your own in the spell duel."
"I guess," Rys said with a shrug. "You really think this means we're in?"
"We made top eleven," Kael said, folding the paper back into the envelope. "We're in."
Rys chuckled. "What a way to start."
The announcement faded into background noise. As the rest of the participants were quietly dismissed, Kael and Rys stood among the ten others who remained—some grinning, others already strategizing. Kael's fingers brushed the letter in his pocket, and he exhaled.
On to the next challenge.
___
The arena crowd slowly dispersed, some students already celebrating and others shuffling away in silence, tension still trailing them like a shadow. The grading period dragged on, stretching nearly an hour, as officials calculated and double-checked scores across all events and categories.
Finally, a booming voice rang across the arena from an elevated crystal speaker. "Attention, all participants. The results of the 100th Academy Tournament have been finalized."
A flicker of light shimmered across the sky above the coliseum, followed by magical projections of golden text forming in midair. The top names emerged, bold and impossible to ignore.
---
🏆 Top 10 Rankings
1. Fiora Thorne – 100 (3:02:19)
2. Jalek Moren – 100 (3:07:54)
3. Tessan Vahr – 98
4. Eliah Fenn – 96
5. Zarin Loch – 95
6. Mira Calein – 94 (3:11:08)
7. Iro Vennar – 94 (3:14:22)
8. Soryn Del – 93
9. Jintra Malek – 92
10. Nox Veyren – 91
---
Whispers erupted from the crowd. "Fiora again," someone muttered. "She's untouchable." The names were a mix of expected faces and surprise newcomers.
The booming voice returned, tone heavier now. "We will now display the lowest rankings. Students placed in the bottom ten will be expelled from the Academy immediately."
Another set of glowing names appeared, this time etched in red.
---
⚠️ Bottom 11 Rankings (Ranks 1000–1010)
1000. Rys Halden – 21 (3:51:42)
1001. Velk Tenrow – 21 (3:55:10)
1002. Cressa Mallin – 21 (3:59:37)
1003. Franz Deller – 19
1004. Oriam Lex – 17
1005. Nira Kos – 15
1006. Grel Morvek – 14
1007. Tama Sulen – 13
1008. Erven Jax – 12
1009. Dorra Ven – 10
1010. Mossel Vey – 9
---
Rys let out a shaky breath. 1,000. Just barely. His hands clenched, but a slow, relieved smile curved at the edges of his lips. He'd made it. It didn't matter how close—it counted.
Kael scanned the air for their name, heart pounding. Their name never appeared in either group. A moment later, a small enchanted slip of paper shimmered into existence and floated down into their lap, followed shortly by another in front of Rys.
Kael's eyes traced the neatly printed words:
> Name: Kael Adair
Overall Score: 27
Placement: 950
Competition Scores:
Strength Trial – 3
Precision Trial – 4
Agility Trial – 5
Strength Technique – 2
Precision Technique – 3
Agility Technique – 4
Strength Strategy – 1
Precision Strategy – 2
Agility Strategy – 2
Showmanship – 1
Total Elapsed Time: 3:31:08
They blinked. That was… low. Uncomfortably low. But not bottom ten. Not even bottom fifty. Kael sighed, mostly at peace with it. No magic allowed had hit harder than they'd expected. They folded the paper and tucked it away.
Beside them, Rys glanced down at his own paper.
> Name: Rys Halden
Overall Score: 21
Placement: 1000
Competition Scores:
Strength Trial – 2
Precision Trial – 2
Agility Trial – 3
Strength Technique – 1
Precision Technique – 2
Agility Technique – 2
Strength Strategy – 1
Precision Strategy – 2
Agility Strategy – 1
Showmanship – 5
Total Elapsed Time: 3:51:42
Rys chuckled under his breath. "I think I owe that five in Showmanship my life."
Kael smirked faintly. "You do know how to smile dramatically at the right time."
"It's a skill."
They sat together in silence as students started to move again, some hugging, others storming off. Announcements followed about orientation the next day and the assignment of dorms, but neither of them really listened. They were in. That was enough—for now.
___
Orientation began not with a speech, but a silence.
The eleven of them—Kael, Rys, and the nine other preliminary qualifiers—were led from the tournament grounds to a raised pavilion built into the side of the Academy's central tower. It curved like a crescent moon over the plaza below, shielded by soft-glowing rune glass and humming enchantments that deadened sound from the outside. Inside, however, everything echoed: footsteps, breath, nerves.
The student council president stood waiting.
He wore no elaborate uniform, no gilded crest—just a sharp black coat and a silver pin shaped like an open eye. His presence alone was enough. Broad-shouldered, close-cropped hair, posture like a drawn blade. This was the man who had ranked 11th in the tournament—missing graduation by one point.
Rys whispered under his breath, "Guess that's why he's here giving speeches instead of out saving the world."
Kael didn't smile, but his fingers nudged Rys's hand briefly in warning. Not the time.
The president stepped forward. His voice carried effortlessly, no magic needed.
"My name is Kellen Virell, Student Council President," he said. "If you're here, you survived the tournament. That means you've earned your place. No one can take that from you. Not even us."
A pause. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he summoned a projection in the air behind him—ten glowing orbs aligned in a triangle, then split into sections.
"But this place isn't like the schools you've heard of," Kellen continued. "We don't tell you what to do. We don't assign teachers. We don't issue lectures or homework. There are no semesters, no graduation clocks, no guaranteed timelines."
He looked around the group, eyes lingering on Kael for a beat longer than anyone else.
"The Academy runs on one thing: merit. You grow, or you stall. You lead, or you fade. You adapt, or you're expelled."
The projection shifted again—this time showing a set of glowing words:
Annual Tournament
→ Top 10: Graduate
→ Ranks 11–1000: Remain
→ Bottom 10: Expelled
"You already know this," Kellen said. "You just lived it. But what you may not know is this—you decide what next year's tournament looks like."
Murmurs broke out, but Kellen kept speaking, unbothered.
"The events, the scoring criteria, even the rules for magic use—all of it is determined by the student body. Every year, voting opens during the first six months. For the first three months, we submit event proposals—new competitions. After that, we submit scoring criteria for each selected event."
He flicked his fingers again. The projection morphed into two glowing lists: one titled Competition Submissions, the other Scoring Criteria.
"The first five students to submit any proposal are temporarily exempt from voting—but if they don't vote by the end of the cycle, their submissions are thrown out. Everyone else must vote to submit. No exceptions. If you don't want to submit anything, you can still vote—but if you don't vote at all, you lose any right to complain."
A ripple of restrained laughter moved through the group.
"The system is magically enforced," Kellen said. "Secure, anonymous, and unhackable—unless you happen to be a demigod with a grudge against democracy."
This time, a few genuine chuckles slipped out.
Kael watched him carefully. He wasn't trying to be charming. He was trying to be clear. Every sentence landed with intention.
Kellen's voice hardened again. "Leaking the details of a tournament or its criteria to anyone outside the Academy is grounds for immediate expulsion—no exceptions. We protect our system. That's the only reason it still works."
Kael felt a few eyes flick his way again. Not hostile—just curious. They could tell he wasn't… fixed. Every person here likely saw a slightly different version of him. That meant whispers would come.
He kept his expression even.
Kellen dismissed the projection and stepped aside as a young staff member approached with a set of rune-etched tablets—dorm assignments.
"No shared dorms," the staffer said bluntly. "Gendered wings. Common areas are co-ed, restrooms and showers are not. Don't break the rules. You'll regret it."
They began calling names.
Rys was assigned to South Dorm, Male Wing, Room 114.
Kael's name was the last one called.
"Kael Adair… Room 001-SN. Special Needs Wing."
A quiet shift in the air followed. Rys's brow furrowed.
The staffer noticed and added without prompting, "This room exists for unique cases—magical or otherwise. Adair's condition qualifies."
That did the trick. The murmurs died down.
Kellen nodded once toward Kael, something in his eyes flickering—not sympathy, not judgment. Recognition, maybe.
"You'll find your orientation kits in your rooms," he said. "They include access tokens, your dorm map, rulebook, meal plans, and portal IDs. First-years are expected to start training evaluations by the end of the week. Until then—get your bearings. Make allies. Or don't. No one's going to hold your hand."
He stepped back. "Welcome to the Academy."
That was it.
No fanfare. No applause. Just a dismissal.
As the others filtered out, Kael and Rys lingered near the edge of the plaza.
"You okay?" Rys asked.
Kael nodded. "It's just a lot."
Rys looked like he wanted to say more, then didn't. "Guess I should go find my room."
"Yeah," Kael said. "I'll see you later."
"Try not to get exiled for rule-breaking on day one."
"I'll do my best."
Rys gave him a lazy salute and walked off.
Kael stood alone for a moment longer, watching the tower above shimmer in the twilight.
Then he turned toward the dorms—toward Room 001.
Toward a space of his own.
Whatever that meant now.