The King Under The Sun

"Iman! Wake up, it's time for school!"

Iman jolts from his bed, still half asleep. He looks around his room, as if he is questioning where he is.

"Ah! There it is!" Iman picks up an open book from the floor.

"Up late reading again, Iman?" His mother barges into his room.

"Yeah, I am sorry. But I promise you, I am learning more from these books than I ever will at the Academy," Iman assured his mother.

"If you ever actually went, maybe I would believe you," His mother contended.

"You got me," confessed Iman.

Iman packed his satchel and headed out the door. He was nervous, and rightfully so, since today was his very first day attending the Academy, a magic school dedicated to cultivating young men and women. He was afraid of failing to meet his classmates' expectations.

As Iman entered through the door to the school. his nerves began to settle. As he strolled through the hallway, he encountered many people of varying backgrounds. People from all corners of the Eastern Continent gathered here in Safavyus to study the art of magic. In the Eastern Continent, runes were the main way to access one's flow of mana. Through the inscribing of commands onto runestones, spells and abilities can be summoned and channeled.

Iman made his way into his classroom, where he found his seat. He immediately noticed how groups of people were already talking and hanging out together. He began to feel nervous once again. As the bell rang, all students returned to their assigned seats. Iman immediately noticed how the seat to his left was empty. To his right was a small dark elf male. To Iman's surprise, the dark elf was very sociable and approached him first.

"So, what can you do?" The dark elf seemed to be rather manner-less in his demeanor.

"Sorry, what do you mean?" Iman was confused. "Like, what subjects am I strong at?"

"No, man, I mean your proficiency in combat! That is all that really matters in this school anyway. If you can fight well, you can do well," The dark elf seemed to be quite upset. "Oh yeah, I forgot to say, but I am Fel Rola, third son of Clan Fel."

"Wait, THE Clan Fel? Aren't they the ones who extinguished the dragon uprising in the North?" interrogated Iman.

"Well yes, I suppose that was us," Rola seemed to relish in the praise.

Suddenly, the door to the class was opened. All eyes turned to see which student could possibly be late on the first day of school at the Academy. To their surprise, what they saw was not some delinquent appearing student, but rather an elegant lady. The girl came in and everyone was instantly taken aback by her beauty. She had luxurious golden hair which had tips that barely touched her shoulder. Her hair was straight, but had this slight curl to it that made her appearance slightly intimidating. Iman realized quickly that there was only one open seat; the seat to the left of him.

"Hey, I am Iman, what's your name?" Iman pushed forward carefully.

"And I'm Fel Rola, but you can just call me Rola. Or honey. Maybe even darling." Rola pushed forward dangerously.

Both were met with the same response. however. A cold stare that seemed to freeze their hearts two times over.

"Um....Sorry." apologized Iman.

She turned away from Iman and gently sat in her seat. Whispers began to spread throughout class.

"Who is she?"

"Where is she from?"

"I heard she is a foreign exchange student from the Western Continent,"

"What? The WESTERN CONTINENT?"

Her cold stare then turned to the rest of the class who instantly froze. They recognized what her attitude was implying and stopped spreading rumors immediately.

"Wow, you're pretty scary, aren't you?" teased Iman.

"Please refrain from making unnecessary conversation," the girl seemed to be very upset.

Iman sat silently and defeated.

"Fine." Iman finally muttered.

All seemed to pass over as the teacher finally began roll call.

Everyone in the class, including Iman, waited in suspense for the mysterious girl's name to be called. In the Eastern Continent, one's family name is everything. If she had a name that was foreign to the class, everybody would know whether she was truly from the west or not.

"Alaria Kryn?"

"Here."

The class stared bullets are her. They all knew for sure now that a westerner had come to the Academy.

The days that followed were loud and disruptive. As if she had suddenly become queen of the school, every student, male and female, fought for her attention and favor. This was usually paired with rude or insensitive questions about the west. Alaria, though, walked through it all. Nothing seemed to phase her. No outlandish comments nor thoughtful compliments. Nothing broke the ice that surrounded her. That was, at least, until the end of the first week of school when Alaria had finally snapped.

The Third Prince of Sarisova, the nation where Iman lives and where the Academy is located, was instantly ensnared by Alaria's alluring beauty. He seemed to be the only one who got past her cold personality, but not in a good way. Elizar, the Third Prince, tried to earn Alaria's favor through frequent and otherwise obnoxious notions, such as putting his arm around her waist without her permission. Still, she fought through it all until Elizar had gotten too confident and attempted to kiss her.

"Get off of me, you pig!" shouted Alaria.

She proceeded to kick him down and threw him into wall of the hallway. Her strength, her speed, her lack of wasted movements, they were incredible to see. Elizar took pride in being the Fifth Seat of the Academy despite only being a first year. There were only nine seats that made up what the student council, and the ranks are determined by live combat skills. Yet here he was, unconscious and lying beneath the boot of this random foreigner from the west.

"She's incredible!" Iman thought to himself.

Iman admired combat. Form battlefield scale strategies to the techniques employed in a duel. Iman wanted to know more, see more, and learn more. He wanted to master the various martial arts and combat styles of the world. Unfortunately, Iman was unskilled in most areas. His magic was subpar, his sword skills dull, and his physical body weak. But Iman's understanding of fighting and his ability to unravel the mysteries behind any scheme or strategy is unparalleled.

After that incident, none dared get close to Alaria, except for Iman and his new friend Rola who had found a new fascination in Alaria and her mysterious battle skills. The time to see them firsthand would soon come for the two as the Positional Tournament soon came to the Academy. In order to organize the school into their class ranks and divisions, a massive tournament was held for each year of the school. For first years, it would determine which platform they would grow off of as top divisions were granted more privileges than lower ranks. In the Academy, talent is everything.

As if they were interested in her abilities themselves, the Academy scheduled Alaria's first round fight to be the very first fight of the tournament. Her opponent was Elizar, who now knew he could not underestimate Alaria. Word began to spread that Elizar was training harder than he ever had before to recover his lost dignity. Everyone has something that fuels them, and for Elizar and others like him, its their pride in their own superiority.

When the day of the fight came, Iman could not hide his excitement. Like a kid seeing a dragon for the first time, Iman's eyes were glued to Alaria as she walked into the arena. Not just Iman, however, but everyone at the arena was interested in seeing Alaria's talents, especially members of guilds. Guilds in Sarisova basically ran the government, performing and running many events and activities without consulting the Sarisova Family, the royal family of the nation.

When Elizar stepped out, the reaction was almost the opposite. Many, especially girls who Iman suspected were treated poorly and unfairly by Elizar, were booing and looking down on him. Elizar's aura said it all. He was going to kill Alaria.

"This...feeling. Alaria is in trouble." Iman muttered to himself.

"What do you mean? The fight is being proctored by the Academy's headmaster, nothing dangerous will happen." Rola responded.

But Iman knew. He felt it. Ever since he was young, he could feel the aura and intents of other people at a basic level. When somebody loved another. When somebody was angry at another. And, when somebody wanted kill another. Iman wanted to see Alaria's talents, but not like this.

The horn was blown and the fight was underway. Iman sat at the edge of his seat, ready to jump into action the moment he noticed something off. But, the fight was very clean for the first while. Alaria was a master swordswoman whose proficiency with a blade could not be understated. As if she was dancing, Alaria avoided all of Elizar's attacks, even though Elizar was a enhancer, meaning he was enhancing his physical abilities. His speed, power, and accuracy should be much more than somebody who was emitting no mana, yet Alaria craftily toyed with him. She was clearly using no magic, but just by looking at her body moving one could immediately tell how muscular her build truly was. She was slim and feminine, yet she secretly possessed the strength of a horse.

"Enough of this." She seemed to say, with a slight grin on her face.

She landed on the ground and put herself in a stance as if she was about to run at Elizar. Elizar, seeing his opening, picked up his blade once more and dashed at Alaria. With a ear-piercing screech, Alaria disappeared from her previous spot and reappeared behind Elizar whose sword was now shattered in pieces. Alaria had used nothing but her own physical strength to shatter the sound barrier.

"What a monster. I love it!" exclaimed Rola. "Hey Iman, you think she'd be into me?"

Iman stared at her, absolutely stunned, and oddly infatuated.

"...Iman?"

"Yes? Sorry! I was lost in thought." Iman responded.

Iman lost himself in his thoughts. All thoughts led back to one, though.

"Alaria is gorgeous," He could not get the thought out of his head.

Her streaking golden hair as she struck down Elizar was an image that would not escape his mind. For everyone else, it looked like she teleported, but for Iman who could see and break down each frame of her final attack, it looked completely different. As if she was a painting fitting to be hung in the royal palace.

Iman's blooming thoughts were disrupted by a high killing aura. He instantly looked back at Elizar who was chanting a spell to himself.

"No!" he shouted.

In a mere moment, Elizar had used an ancient runestone to strike Alaria with lightning, killing her instantly.

Elizar dashed to the fallen girl, holding back tears.

"Why?" he thought. "Why am I so sad and angry when I didn't even know her?"

Iman knew a way to save her. A way that would guarantee her a safe trip back to the mortal world. A way that would risk everything he had built up in his life. However, he had no choice. With the entire city watching, Iman opened his palm, performed a short runic chant, and summoned the light of the sun in his hand. He then placed the light in Alaria's chest, ridding her of all injuries. A moment later, she began to breathe again. The once dead rose again.

The entire arena stood in awe, nobody making a mood. Iman cared not for their stares. The only thing he cared about was Alaria in that moment. It wasn't long before people finally snapped back to reality and realized what they had just witnessed. Among all the incredible miracles magic can perform, to harness the light of the sun was a power reserved to one in the entire world. This person would pass on this power only to one who carried the purest amount of his blood. Soon this line of gods among men would come to be know as many names. The Eastern Emperor. The Igna Dea. The King Under the Sun. And the most powerful name of all, the Ra.