The Game Begins

"The world loves a fool… until he isn't."

The morning sun hit me like a slap.

Not because it was particularly bright, but because the academy courtyard had transformed into a military parade overnight. Flags from the Seven Kingdoms fluttered in the breeze, each bearing their own arrogant sigils. Gold. Crimson. Cerulean. Even one with a roaring lion made entirely of ice.

And in front of all that? Rows of new students standing like soldiers—stiff, clean, and filled with the kind of pride only people who've never failed can have.

I stood somewhere in the middle, next to Erynd, who had a piece of toast hanging from his mouth like a barbarian.

"Bro," he muttered with a full mouth, "why does it already feel like we're in trouble?"

"Because we are," I whispered. "We're poor, we're commoners, and I may have accidentally flexed a forbidden-type shadow beast during the entrance trial."

"…Right. That."

From the raised stage ahead, a figure stepped forward. A tall man in charcoal black robes, with a voice that could've cut through a thunderstorm.

"Welcome, candidates, to the Arcanum Dominion Academy."

Just that line and the entire courtyard straightened like a spine had grown through the earth itself.

"This institution does not tolerate weakness. You will either earn your place—or be discarded. Magic is not a right. It is a weapon. You will learn to wield it, or you will break beneath it."

Harsh.

I liked him already.

After the ceremony, the student body was split into color-coded groups based on trial performance.

Naturally, I got dumped into Grey Tier.

It sounded fancy, but I quickly realized it meant: "Congratulations, you barely survived and we're still wondering how."

The Gold Tier was for nobles, royalty, and anyone who managed to one-shot a wyvern with a wink.

That included an elf boy with silver-white hair who hadn't spoken a single word but radiated the energy of someone who owned three mountains and didn't care about any of them.

Also, a beastkin girl with amber eyes and claws who definitely sniffed me as I walked past.

Erynd and I got our dorm assignments—shared room, bottom of the Tower's South Wing—and a map that looked like someone sneezed runes onto parchment and called it navigation.

That night, while unpacking my entire life's belongings (which fit in a single bag), Erynd leaned over.

"Yo, question," he said, tossing a pillow. "How come you're so chill? I mean, a shadow monster thing talked to you. In the middle of a collapsing labyrinth. And now you're in Grey Tier like me, acting like nothing happened."

I smirked. "It's easy. I just don't think about it."

"Bro, that's not healthy."

"I know."

But truth be told, it was bothering me.

Because Veythar hadn't spoken since that night. No whispers. No movements. Just silence.

Like he was watching. Waiting.

And every time I glanced at my shadow… it looked too still.

The Next Day: Combat Assessment

"Your task," the instructor said, "is to last three minutes against a summoned construct. Not defeat it. Just survive."

The Gold Tier students faced elegant, polished golems. Controlled duels. Applause.

Grey Tier?

They dropped a mutated lizard monster in front of me with fangs the size of daggers and said, "Good luck."

"Why do I feel like this is racism?" I muttered.

"Begin!" someone shouted.

The thing leapt forward, claws flashing.

I dodged—barely—rolling across the stone platform.

"Hey, uh, Mr. Lizard? Can we talk about this?"

It screeched. Definitely a "no."

As it lunged again, something shifted under my foot. My shadow moved.

Just for a second.

The lizard froze—its eyes locked on the floor behind me. Then it whimpered. Literally whimpered. And scrambled away, refusing to get closer.

The entire training hall went silent.

The instructor frowned. "Candidate. What did you just do?"

"…I think I intimidated it with my charming personality."

A snort of laughter came from somewhere in the Gold section.

The instructor's eye twitched. "Candidate Riven… report to the mana inspection chamber. Now."

I sighed.

"Is this because I'm too handsome?" I asked no one in particular.

But deep inside, under my skin… I could feel it again.

A cold presence.

A whisper in the dark.

"You are not ready to be seen. But when you are… the world will kneel."

"The ones who smile the most… are often the ones preparing for war."

The mana inspection chamber looked like a courtroom designed by a psychopath. Stone walls laced with arcane runes, glowing veins of crystal along the floor, and a massive sigil that pulsed beneath my boots.

The examiner—a sharp-eyed woman with half-moon glasses and zero patience—gestured to the platform. "Stand there."

I did.

She placed a translucent orb in front of me. "This will scan the depth of your mana core. You may feel pressure."

"Emotionally or physically?"

She didn't answer.

Figures.

I placed my hand on the orb.

Nothing.

Then suddenly—too much.

It felt like a door opened inside me. Not a gentle door. A gate. Rusted. Heavy. Screeching open like a warning.

Something leaked through.

Not magic. Not entirely.

Something else.

The examiner's glasses cracked. Her expression didn't.

But her voice did drop a pitch. "Candidate Riven… this orb is defective."

Yeah, sure.

By the time I got back to my dorm, Erynd was sprawled on the floor like a corpse.

"I'm dead," he groaned. "I had to fight a wind wolf. Do you know what a wind wolf is, bro?"

"A fast dog?"

"A teleporting fast dog with a grudge against redheads."

"Damn."

He looked at me. "You're weirdly calm. Again. What happened to you?"

"I got falsely accused of being a broken cheat code and nearly exploded a mana orb."

"Oh. Cool. Want some noodles?"

"…Absolutely."

Later That Night

As the Academy quieted, I sat by the window, staring out over the silver lake that bordered the campus.

Stars shimmered above it.

Peaceful.

But my shadow rippled unnaturally.

And then—he finally spoke again.

A whisper behind me, low and deep, like a soldier kneeling before his commander.

"You are not yet complete, My Liege."

I turned. "Took you long enough. Veythar, right?"

"You remember."

"I also remember you slicing apart a doom beast like paper."

"A fraction of my strength. Locked… for your protection."

I leaned back in my chair. "So, let me guess. I used to be someone important. You served me in some grand war. Now I'm a reincarnated idiot with no mana, pretending to be useless, and you're hiding in my shadow like a bodyguard with commitment issues."

He was silent for a moment.

"…Accurate."

I smirked. "You're kind of a drama queen, huh?"

"Only when required."

I liked him already.

The Next Morning: Orientation Day Two

Each tier was now assigned classes. Combat, magical theory, alchemy, and… social etiquette.

"Bro," I whispered as we walked into the classroom, "if anyone teaches me how to use fifteen forks at dinner, I'm leaving."

Erynd snorted. "You? You eat with your hands."

"Exactly."

The classroom was packed. People murmured, glancing at us like we'd snuck into the wrong room.

Which we technically had.

Someone elbowed past me. Tall, lean, with obsidian hair and a family crest that screamed I pay people to smile for me.

Gold Tier. Obviously.

He stopped and looked at me. "You don't belong here."

I smiled. "Good to know. I'll make myself at home."

He sneered and walked off.

Erynd nudged me. "You really like provoking death, don't you?"

"I call it investing in future regret."

But then—something shifted.

The air in the room changed.

A faint warmth spread, like the first breath of spring after a long winter.

Everyone turned toward the door.

She walked in.

Wearing crimson-accented robes, silver-tinged hair braided behind her head, and golden eyes that looked through people rather than at them.

Not introduced. Not labeled.

But I could tell from the way nobles flinched—she mattered.

Erynd whispered, "Who is that?"

I said nothing.

Because for a moment… she looked at me.

Just a glance.

But something pulsed in the air—subtle, old, and dangerous.

Then she looked away.

Later: Training Grounds

Another assessment. This time, spellcasting.

I stood there, wandless, hopeless, and with a teacher staring at me like I was fungus.

"No mana output. You cannot even summon a basic flame?"

I scratched my head. "Can I draw it?"

"Dismissed."

Erynd was next. Accidentally lit his sleeve on fire.

Everyone laughed.

Except her.

The silver-haired girl from earlier.

She didn't smile. She just watched. Calm. Calculated. Unreadable.

What's your deal?

But then I heard it—quiet, only in my head.

A whisper.

"She carries flame and starlight in her veins. A bloodline forgotten by history."

Veythar.

"She will either become your ally… or your end."

That night, I couldn't sleep.

The academy was a storm of magic, politics, hidden bloodlines, and rivalries.

And in the middle of it?

A boy with no mana.

A shadow he couldn't control.

And a future he hadn't chosen.

I stared at my reflection in the window.

And for a second… I saw someone else staring back.

Wearing the same face.

But with eyes like dying stars.