Little Sparks

The soft hum of healing glyphs faded the moment I stepped out of the medical clinic. Finally. My last day under their watchful eye, and not a moment too soon.

"Freedom," I muttered, tilting my head back dramatically as if tasting the air. My joints cracked with a satisfying pop as I stretched. Honestly, I almost wanted to kiss the ground—if it wasn't enchanted marble. "I was starting to think they'd keep me there just to see if I'd die of boredom."

Before I could take another step, the familiar chime of my system interface echoed in my head.

[Ding!]

[Episode 1: Main Story Completed.]

[Calculating Rewards…]

I blinked. "Oh, great. Here comes my participation trophy."

A series of system prompts scrolled through my mind like a loading screen. I crossed my arms, waiting for it to spit out some garbage reward—maybe a congratulatory pat on the back or a shiny 'You Tried!' badge.

[Reward Unlocked: Shadowheart Ring.]

[Description: This enchanted ring enhances mana recovery and decreases the mana cost of dark-element spells by 15%. Bonus: Temporary immunity to mental manipulation.]

I stared at the interface, stunned. "Well, damn. That's… actually useful."

The image of the ring floated before my eyes—a sleek, black band with a dark gem that shimmered like an abyss. It radiated a quiet power, something subtle but potent.

[Would you like to equip the Shadowheart Ring now? Y/N]

I didn't need to think twice. "Hell yes."

The ring materialized on my hand, cool against my skin. A faint pulse of energy shot through me, like a gentle breeze stirring up the depths of a lake. Instantly, I felt lighter, the constant drain on my mana dulling to a manageable hum.

"Well, that's convenient," I muttered to myself, twisting the ring around my finger. "If the undead show up again, at least I won't be running on empty halfway through."

And just like that, the interface flickered away, leaving me standing there, basking in the faint satisfaction of finally getting something useful out of this weird game-world nonsense.

The door to the clinic clicked shut behind me—and before I could fully savor my escape, the sound of familiar voices drifted down the corridor.

"Look who's still alive and kicking!"

Dorian's booming voice echoed through the hallway like a cannon blast, followed by the loud smack of his hands clapping together. He strolled toward me with his trademark grin, the kind that screamed trouble more than welcome back. "Didn't I tell you things would get crazy?"

"You didn't predict jack," Claire shot back without missing a beat, falling into step beside him. "You just hoped for chaos, and for once, the universe indulged you."

Dorian shrugged like a man who lived by the philosophy of accidentally right is still right. "Manifesting is a skill, Claire. Not everyone's got it."

Selene trailed behind them, arms folded, her gaze steady as always. "We knew you'd handle it," she said, her tone flat—like it was more of an objective truth than praise. The kind of confidence that assumed failure was simply not an option.

Leon gave me a quick glance, hands tucked casually into his pockets. Even in the middle of a casual stroll, the guy looked like he could step into a royal portrait at any moment. "Glad you're in one piece. But next time, send a warning before summoning monsters, will you? I had... other plans."

"Sorry about that," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "Didn't exactly have time to draft an invitation."

Before I could fire off another sarcastic remark, Lucas stepped forward, silent as ever. He handed me a water bottle like he was passing me a sacred relic.

I blinked down at it, genuinely caught off guard. "Wow, Lucas. You do care. I'm touched."

Lucas gave a small shrug, his expression as neutral as a blank scroll. "You looked like you needed it."

A grin tugged at the corners of my mouth. "I'll treasure this moment forever. A gift from Lucas—now that's something to brag about."

He tilted his head slightly, as if calculating whether humoring me was worth the effort.

Fiona leaned lazily against the wall, arms crossed and a sly smirk curving her lips. "Don't go getting sentimental on us, hero. We only showed up because Dorian bet you'd screw things up without us."

I dragged a hand down my face in mock exasperation. "Your faith in me is just… overwhelming."

Claire rolled her eyes but smirked. "Think of it as tough love. You'll thank us one day."

"Sure," I deadpanned. "I'll mark it on my calendar. Right after 'survive another disaster' and 'attend therapy for hero complex.'"

Dorian clapped me on the back—too hard, of course. "Hey, at least you make things interesting. Most students only have to worry about midterms. You? You get monsters and secret societies. Living the dream, Lucius."

"Yeah, it's all fun and games until the undead get involved," I muttered, twisting the cap off the water bottle.

Leon shot me a sideways grin. "That's the spirit—though you might want to brace yourself. I hear rumors travel fast around here. You might be famous already."

"Great," I said, taking a sip of water. "Just what I needed—more attention."

"Better get used to it," Fiona added with a playful tilt of her head. "Heroes don't get much downtime, you know."

I sighed, already feeling the weight of everything settle back on my shoulders again. "Heroes, huh? You guys really know how to hype me up."

A Not-So-Subtle Entrance

After a round of half-joking, half-sincere "Good lucks," I left my friends behind, water bottle still in hand, and made my way toward the principal's office.

Isaac had mentioned before I left the clinic that Principal Solmara wanted to speak with me—said it was important. I'd hoped "important" might mean congratulations or maybe a promotion to "less cursed student," but with my luck, it probably meant something closer to bad news with homework on top.

The walk was eerily quiet, the faint echoes of students going about their day fading as I approached the massive oak doors. I adjusted my uniform and inhaled sharply, trying to shake off the lingering exhaustion from the fight with Corvin.

The moment I crossed the threshold, it felt like the entire room exhaled—and not in a welcoming way. The atmosphere inside wasn't heavy; it was dense, like standing at the bottom of the ocean while the surface drifted far out of reach. Even the air seemed to vibrate with latent power.

Bookshelves lined the walls, the ancient tomes floating lazily, as if caught in an invisible current. Enchanted scrolls drifted in spirals through the air, their glowing glyphs flickering like embers. For a split second, I felt like I'd stumbled into a high-level raid dungeon. All that's missing is a health bar and ominous music.

And then I saw him—Alastair Solmara, principal of Arcadia Magic Academy, lounging behind his desk like he had centuries to spare. His silver hair shimmered faintly under the glow of floating lanterns, and his gaze was as lazy as a cat watching prey it already knew couldn't escape.

"Lucius," he greeted, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Quite the entrance you made back there. The Corvin incident, was it?"

I leaned against the back of a chair, arms crossed. "Yeah, not every day you get a teacher trying to summon a high-rank demon."

Alastair chuckled, the sound warm and low, though there was a sharpness beneath it. "Ah, Arcadia—never a dull moment. Keeps things... interesting, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah, sure." I exhaled, trying to sound nonchalant, though I was already on guard. Conversations with people like Alastair always had layers—like a cake filled with knives.

He steepled his fingers, studying me for a moment before speaking again. "Isaac tells me you fought well, even under pressure."

"Just doing what I had to."

A glimmer of amusement flickered in his eyes. "Dorian mentioned the same—but what stood out to him wasn't just the fighting. He said you're a great leader."

I blinked. Dorian? Great leader? Me? That was new. I almost laughed out loud. "I think Dorian's been sniffing alchemy fumes again."

Alastair's smile didn't waver. "Jokes aside, leadership is a rare trait—especially for someone so new to this world."

The words hit harder than I expected. My first instinct was to deny it, throw in some snarky comeback, but nothing came out. Because for a second—just a second—I thought he knew.

I stood frozen, heart stuttering in my chest. Did he figure it out? That I wasn't the real Lucius, just some random guy from Earth? No way… right?

But Alastair's gaze remained calm, unreadable, and that's when it clicked: He wasn't talking about other worlds. He meant the transition—from noble brat to a magician living on the battlefield.

I exhaled quietly, tension easing, but the realization hit me harder than any spell. Somewhere between dodging fireballs, fighting Corvin, and navigating this insane academy life, I'd stopped thinking about home—Earth, the real world.

When was the last time I'd even considered going back? The thought felt... distant, like it belonged to someone else entirely.

Alastair leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand, his voice soft but heavy with meaning. "You're fitting in better than you realize, Lucius. But Arcadia isn't an easy place to survive."

He gestured with a flick of his hand, and one of the enchanted scrolls floated down to his desk, unfurling itself with a soft hum. Faint glyphs shimmered across its surface, radiating an aura of heightened security spells.

"Word spreads fast around here," he continued, voice calm but laced with warning. "And you've caught the attention of a few... interesting factions. Some are curious, others—not so friendly."

I raised a brow. "Let me guess: Some think I'm a dark magic prodigy, and now they either want to recruit me... or assassinate me."

Alastair's grin widened slightly, though his eyes stayed cold. "A fair assessment."

He tapped the scroll with two fingers, activating a glowing seal that pulsed for a moment before fading. "You should know: Corvin's attempt to summon a high-rank demon was just the beginning. The Phantom Order doesn't give up easily. They'll come back—stronger and smarter."

"Fantastic," I muttered. "Shadow cults, demons, and now factions gunning for me. It's like a scavenger hunt, except all the prizes want me dead."

Alastair chuckled softly, a sound that somehow felt both amused and dangerous. "That's Arcadia for you—adapt or fall behind. And if you want to survive, you'll need to grow. I could teach you a few... advanced techniques. Forbidden dark magic, under careful supervision, of course."

I narrowed my eyes. "And the catch?"

He gave me a knowing look, one that said more than any answer could. "There's always a catch, Lucius. But some doors are worth opening—even if they're dangerous."

The room went silent, the weight of his words settling over me like a heavy cloak. I knew he was right. Arcadia had already shown me that playing it safe wasn't an option—not if I wanted to stay alive.

I clenched my fists, feeling the tension coiling beneath my skin. I was in too deep now. Whether I liked it or not, this world—this insane, magic-fueled reality—was becoming more real to me than the life I'd left behind.

And the scariest part? I didn't know if I wanted to leave anymore.

The Flare of Embers and Banter

When I finally escaped the suffocating aura of the principal's office, I nearly collided headfirst into Lilith von Ruriel—because of course, it had to be her. She stood at the top of the staircase like she owned the place, arms folded, flames flickering faintly around her fingertips without her even trying to cast anything. It was like she carried her magic the same way most people carried their phones—always on, always ready.

Her lips curled into that sly, dangerous smile of hers. "Look who's still breathing. I was starting to think Arcadia chewed you up and spat you out already."

"Disappointed?" I asked, grinning as I straightened up. "Or were you planning a rescue mission? Maybe bring balloons and a 'Get Well Soon' card?"

Lilith chuckled, the sound warm and effortlessly smooth. "You wish. I don't do balloons. But a 'thank you' wouldn't hurt. You know, for not letting you die last time."

I shot her a mischievous look. "Thank you, O Gracious Savior. How's that?"

She tilted her head, pretending to consider. "Hmm... Not bad, but I also accept tips. Just so you know."

"Tips, huh?" I rubbed my chin like I was genuinely pondering. "How about this—I promise not to steal your spotlight next time. Sounds fair?"

She snorted, folding her arms tighter. "Careful, Lucius. Keep playing hero, and you'll rack up more rivals than friends."

I raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Is that your way of saying I'm making enemies already?"

"Just a heads-up." Her grin widened, eyes glinting like hot coals. "Some of the older students? They don't love seeing a first-year get all the attention. And word travels fast. Very fast."

I mirrored her grin. "Ah, so you're warning me out of the kindness of your heart? How sweet."

"Maybe." She took a deliberate step closer, her presence like standing too close to a bonfire—comforting and warm, but with a hint of danger if you stayed too long. "Or maybe I just like keeping an eye on you."

Her words hung in the air, playful but laced with something heavier. That's when I caught it—a flicker in her gaze, deeper than the easy banter, like embers swirling in the depths of her irises. There was more to Lilith von Ruriel than just fire element magic and big sister vibes. Something sharp. Something dangerous.

The smile on her face stayed, but her tone dropped a notch—low and teasing. "Careful, Lucius. Play your cards right, and you might survive the year."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "You make it sound like surviving Arcadia is some kind of rare achievement."

"It is." Her playful smile didn't falter, but there was an edge to it now, a subtle warning hidden beneath the charm. "And trust me, this place? It's only going to get crazier from here."

For a second, the weight of her words lingered, sinking in. Arcadia wasn't just a school—it was a maze of rivalries, ambition, and secrets. And Lilith? She wasn't giving advice out of charity. She was handing me a torch, knowing full well it might burn me if I wasn't careful.

"Well," I said, my grin returning, "lucky for me, I thrive in chaos."

Lilith smirked, brushing past me as the scent of smoke and something floral followed in her wake. "Good. You'll need to."

She descended the staircase with an easy grace, her hair catching the light like it was made of flame. I stood there for a moment, watching her disappear down the steps, feeling like I'd just shaken hands with a firestorm. And maybe—just maybe—I was starting to enjoy it.

As I made my way back down the hall, the weight of everything started to settle in. Alastair's warning echoed in my mind—about the Phantom Order, the risks of dark magic, and the factions watching my every move.

The glyphs on the walls shimmered faintly, like they were keeping secrets just out of reach. For a split second, a raven-shaped glyph pulsed on the back of my hand, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

Great. If this was just the warm-up, I couldn't wait to see what the next level looked like.

Just as I reached the end of the hall, Fiona appeared, her expression unusually grim.

"We need to talk," she said, her voice tense. "Now."