Aydenhall!

{From the Auther}

Hello Readers, before we begin the story and before you start judging, I wish you to know that for this story I have chosen an unorthodox way of serelising the story.

It may feel like click bait but it is not. The M.C will become the strongest, just not right in the begining. The starting few chapters are what I deem are important build up which will be shaping the story.

Hence this is a humble request that you atleast read the first 12 chapters before droping.

(P.s This is the first time I have written anything so any feedback would be much appreciated.)

Thank you, Yours truely, Traveler9

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It was 1st January 857 A.D (After Doritis), The 600 years old school of Doritis or Aydenhall began its 179th year of training.

There walked a fairly built, dark-haired young man. Alongside others, formally dressed and nervously walking, he blended into the array of black dots. If there were one thing separating him from the rest, it would be that the sixteen-year-old Zail had beautifully terrifying red eyes, which was quite rare.

Aydenhall was three times the size of the king's castle. Every year out of almost a hundred thousand approximately fifty were selected.

Everyone wanted to attend Aydenhall yet no one knew what is truly taught in it. Only the fact that anyone and whoever attended was the epitome of success.

The first-year students were gathered in the largest hall in the school, more than a school hall it was a throne room. Peculiarly enough it had six thrones each decorated differently and in different colours. The one decorated with gold and silver and placed a few steps above the rest was an elegantly dressed individual who matched the seat he sat in more ways than one and introduced himself as the dean of Aydenhall.

"Kneel!" commanded authoritatively without getting up from his throne.

Everyone followed the order instantly, even Zail, though hesitant had to abide.

"Bring them in." continued the dean. This order was followed by the entrance of five students who wore a white uniform with highlights of the same colours as the thrones in the room.

"These are the Decedents of this generation." claimed the deep voice finally standing up.

"Know them, remember them and be grateful you will train to serve them. Now rise, you will be guided by your respective class teacher to your dormitories... Oh! and rest up because starting tomorrow you won't be able to."

That was awfully short, thought Zail.

The Decedents stood on the steps leading to the thrones in front of their respective colours as the crowd of first years dispersed systematically.

Walking up the flight of circular stairs and through the corridor of the dorm building, the first years enjoyed the beautiful scenery of the capital city, Seanto, a mediaeval city.

Zail was greeted by a slipper to his face and proceeded by yelling as he opened the door to his assigned room. The miscreants stood in their spot at the sight of him.

"Hello!" said Zail awkwardly.

"Ah! Hi." replied the girl chasing another guy with a slipper in her hand.

"Sorry for interrupting, I will just put down my luggage and leave you two alone." declared Zail, moving towards the only empty bed. "And this belongs to you I think." handing her the slipper. And that is how Zail met the two infamous second years, Malik and Joan.

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