The sleek, matte-black car pulled to a silent halt before the iron-wrought gates of Aethegald Academy. They were massive, arching toward the sky like the ribs of a titan, etched with glowing runes that pulsed with the rhythm of a heartbeat.
Lucien Vilor stepped out, his boots clicking sharply on the cobblestones. He wore the black uniform of the Academy stiff, high-collared, and heavy with the scent of starch. As the car pulled away, the exhaust fading into the distance, Lucien stood alone, he didn't look back.
His eyes were cold, devoid of the excitement that bubbled around him. Everywhere he looked, students were laughing, showing off small sparks of magic, or hugging their parents goodbye. To them, this was a dream. To Lucien, it was a cage his father had locked him in to prove a point.
"Go there and be the failure you are," his father's voice echoed in his head. "Or learn what it means to be a Vilor." Lucien adjusted his collar and walked through the gates.
Inside, the atmosphere changed, the air was thick with the scent of old parchment and ozone. Freshmen were being funneled into the Great Hall to receive their dorm keys. There was only one exam—The Placement—and it would happen in three hours. One test to decide if you were a king in Class S or a servant in Class D.
Lucien took his key and began the long walk toward the residential wing. He was busy memorizing the map of the school when a weight slammed into his back. "Oof!"
A smaller boy, afraid and pale, nearly knocked Lucien over. The boy didn't even apologize; he scrambled behind Lucien's tall frame, using him as a human shield.
"Please! Don't let them!" the boy squeaked, trembling so hard Lucien could feel it through his blazer.
Two taller students rounded the corner, their faces twisted into arrogant sneers. The leader had messy red hair and eyes that flickered with low-level embers. He stopped, cracking his knuckles.
"Why are you hiding behind a wall, pipsqueak?" the red-haired boy barked. "Unless you don't have the guts to face us?" He narrowed his eyes, finally looking at Lucien. "And who the hell is this? A low rank Freshman?"
The redhead stepped closer, sniffing the air as if he could smell Lucien's power. He scoffed. "A non-magic human coming to Aethegald? What is this, a joke?"
Lucien didn't move. He didn't blink. He just tilted his head slightly, his voice flat and unimpressed. "You should pick on someone your own size. Not a low-level mage you can easily bully because you're afraid of a real challenge."
The boy hiding behind Lucien gasped, his face turning even paler as he whispered softly. "L-Lucien, stop! That guy is Theodore! He's powerful—don't run your mouth like that! Do you want to get us killed?"
Theodore's face turned a deep, bruised purple. He didn't say another word. He lunged forward, his hand glowing with heat as he grabbed Lucien by the collar, hoisting him up until Lucien was on his tiptoes.
"You've got a big mouth for a Mundane," Theodore hissed, pulling back his fist for a punch that would shatter Lucien's jaw.
"Stop!"
A sharp, authoritative voice cut through the hall, aman with thin, wire-rimmed glasses and a long navy coat stepped into view. His presence alone made the air feel heavy.
Theodore's fist froze an inch from Lucien's face. He growled, but he slowly lowered Lucien and smoothed out his own uniform. "Just a joke, Professor," he muttered, shot Lucien one last murderous glare, and signaled his friend to follow him.
The Professor walked up to Lucien, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "A freshman, I assume? Since you are new to the academy, I chose to interfere. You should have learned the rules of conduct before stepping foot inside these walls, do not let it happen again."
Without waiting for a thank you, the Professor turned and swept away. Lucien adjusted his uniform, his expression never changing. He didn't even spare a glance at the boy he had just saved. He simply turned and continued walking toward his dorm room.
"Hey! Wait!" The boy he'd rescued scurried after him, panting to keep up with Lucien's long strides. "Do you have any idea what you just did? Talking to Theodore like that? He's the son of a High Duke! He could challenge you to a duel, his an S-rank!"
"An S-rank?!" He asked, 'Shit I think I went too far.' he thought.
Silas adjusted his glasses, his fingers trembling slightly. "Yeah his an S-rank and you might have put yourself in deep trouble, I'm Silas. I'm a sophomore... still stuck in Class D. I've seen a lot of freshmen come through those gates, but never a Vilor with a zero-magic like he said. Your family basically built the foundation of the S-Rank tiers. Your father is a monster, how were you born without magic?"
"I'm aware," Lucien said, his voice flat as he continued walking. "Being born without magic in a house of suns makes you very good at living in the dark. Now, answer me. What was that instructor talking about? What 'rule' was I supposed to know?"
Silas hurried to keep up, glancing nervously over his shoulder as if Theodore might reappear at any moment.
"The 5th rule says, a student shall not provoke or engage in conflict with an individual of a higher Rank unless they are prepared to accept the immediate consequences. Should the superior party choose to show mercy, consider it luck; however, the Academy and its staff shall offer no aid, intervention, or protection to the lower-ranked student except when near death."
"That's very extreme."
"That's it," Silas said, his voice dropping. "In here, Rank is Law. If Theodore had decided to kill you 'legally', the Professor wouldn't have stepped in to save you because you are a freshman, you pick a fight with an S-Rank, the school views it as you 'consenting' to your own destruction. You're on your own out here."
"No one comes to your aid," Lucien repeated softly. A ghost of a smile, something sharp and dangerous flickered in his eyes for a split second before vanishing. "Good. That means when the Rank is reversed, no one will come to theirs, either."
Silas shivered, not understanding the look in the freshman's eyes. "To be honest, Vilor... seeing you have no magic, expect unexpected enemies."
Lucien didn't spare Silas a second glance as he pushed open his door. "I have no intention of sinking."