Path

The murmurs in the crowd faded as Rael stepped out of the arena, his body aching from the fight. Though he had won, his ribs throbbed where the noble's strikes had landed, and his knuckles were raw from his unorthodox attacks.

The instructor's voice echoed through the courtyard.

"This concludes today's trials. Those who stand victorious will continue. The rest… will leave."

A group of defeated students, some limping, some still unconscious, were being carried away by academy staff. Their journey ended before it had even begun.

Rael's breaths were steady but controlled. He had made it through the first hurdle. But this was only the beginning.

Grandmaster Aldric Varos, the academy's headmaster, stepped forward from the elevated platform overseeing the trials. His expression remained unreadable, but his voice carried the weight of authority.

"Strength is earned, not given. You will all be tested beyond your limits. Some of you will break. Others will rise. That is the way of Imperius Academy."

His eyes flickered over the group of victorious students. For a brief moment, they settled on Rael.

Then, he turned away.

"Rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins."

---

Rael's body ached as he walked through the academy's corridors, the energy of the day's battles still lingering in the air. The other students gave him a wide berth, some eyeing him with curiosity, others with disdain.

He could already feel it—the weight of the academy's hierarchy.

Bloodlines ruled here. The great warrior families—Argenthelm, Dravenmoor, Varkos, Vaelor—each had their legacies etched into the academy's foundations.

And he had just humiliated one of them.

"Enjoying yourself, mercenary?"

Rael turned, already recognizing the voice.

The noble he had defeated.

The Vaelor heir stood with two others, his lip curled in disdain. Though he had lost the fight, his arrogance remained intact.

"You got lucky," the noble sneered. "Next time, you won't be."

Rael didn't respond. Words meant nothing here.

Another noble stepped forward, a taller one with sharp features and a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Name's Gareth Varkos," the newcomer said. "I saw your fight. Interesting style. Undisciplined, but effective."

His gaze flickered with something unreadable.

"I wonder how long that luck will last."

Rael met his stare without hesitation.

"As long as it needs to."

Gareth chuckled, shaking his head before walking away.

The Vaelor noble scoffed, following after him.

Rael exhaled. He had drawn attention. And attention in a place like this… could mean either opportunity or danger.

Perhaps both.

---

The dormitories of Imperius Academy were divided by division and rank. As a new student, Rael was placed in the Argent Division's lower barracks—a long hall lined with beds, occupied by those who had barely scraped through the entrance trials.

He dropped onto his assigned cot, every muscle in his body protesting.

He needed rest.

But his mind wouldn't allow it.

The fight replayed in his head. Every move. Every mistake.

He had survived using instinct and unpredictability. But that wouldn't last.

The nobles would adapt. The instructors would push him harder.

He needed to be better.

As the dormitory fell into silence, Rael exhaled and closed his eyes.

Tomorrow, training would begin.

And he had no intention of falling behind.