Class Alpha – First Names, First Impressions

The classroom of Class Alpha – Year One shimmered faintly under soft enchantments. The circular windows filtered in light through crystalline lenses, giving everything a quiet, magical glow. Ancient runes pulsed gently along the walls, preserving sound and temperature. It was more than a room—it was a crucible for future legends.

Alaric Durnhart stepped through the open doorway, taking in the sight. Rows of tiered desks curved around a central platform, each seat assigned. Several students were already present, chatting quietly or surveying their peers with cautious glances.

He followed the placards to his assigned seat—center row, fourth from the left.

To his left sat a girl with bright golden-brown eyes and dark braided hair tied behind her back. She looked poised, confident, and wore robes etched with summoning glyphs.

"You must be Alaric Durnhart," she said, offering a hand. "Selene Virel, from the Summoner's Tower. I've contracted a mid-rank Earth Spirit named Bravak, and a lesser Light Spirit."

Alaric blinked. "Two spirits?"

She smiled. "What's life without a little ambition?"

To his right sat a broad-shouldered boy with short crimson hair and fire-orange eyes. He wore the light armor of southern martial schools, his hands wrapped in reinforced cloth.

"Kael Kainen," he said with a friendly grin. "Fist-based knight style. Family's from the Southern Barricade—fighters through and through. Knight Rank 3, Fire Magic Rank 2."

"Alaric," he nodded. "Nice to meet you both."

Kael glanced at Selene, then back at Alaric. "Looks like they stacked this row. All three of us ranked high, didn't we?"

Selene gave a small smirk. "Don't fall behind, then."

Before Alaric could respond, the doors opened again—and the room went quiet.

A tall elven man entered with measured steps. His gray hair was tied back, his uniform fitted with the dark-blue and silver of a senior instructor. Lightning flickered faintly at his fingertips as he moved toward the center.

"I am Master Valen Thorne," he said. "Knight Rank 8. Lightning Mage Rank 4. I will be your class advisor and combat instructor."

His golden eyes swept across the room.

"You are Class Alpha. The best fifty first-years in the kingdom. Selected for power, potential, or heritage. But remember this—noble or not, summoner or knight, nothing is permanent. Every year, underperformers are removed from Class Alpha and replaced by those rising from lower classes."

A few students stiffened.

"You've earned this place—but you'll fight to keep it."

The silence deepened.

"Now… we'll begin with introductions. I've received the ranking from the entrance exams. Top ten, step forward in order."

A row of murmurs echoed as the top-ranked students stood.

"First," Master Thorne said. "Revik Daros."

A tall, dark-haired youth stepped forward, resting an enormous greatsword over his shoulder. His black uniform was pristine, but his eyes held something colder. He didn't smile.

"Revik Daros. Knight Rank 3. Dark Magic Rank 3. From House Daros of the Eastern Ridge."

He didn't elaborate. He didn't need to. The aura of power around him said enough.

"Second: Elayne Korrin."

A confident girl with short white hair and a relaxed posture stepped forward. She had no sword, but her movements were precise—every gesture smooth and trained.

"Elayne. No noble house. Disciple of Varek Thorne, head of the Adventurer's Guild. Knight Rank 3, no magic. Weapons? All of them."

She winked at the class before stepping back.

"Third: Virelya Veyranth."

A graceful full-blooded elf girl with silver-green hair stepped forward in flowing robes woven from leaf-silk. She radiated quiet warmth.

"Daughter of Duke Ardan Veyranth, West Duchy. Wind Magic Rank 2. Plant Magic Rank 3. Specialization in healing and containment."

Several students murmured—so that was the West's second child.

"Fourth: Callen Frostmere."

A pale, blue-eyed boy stepped forward, frost forming under his boots with every step. A rare elemental presence rolled from his body like a silent fog.

"Ice Mage Rank 3. Commoner. From the northern highlands."

He said nothing more, and went back to his seat, ice trailing behind.

"Fifth: Nyra Fenroth."

A sharp-eyed girl with a crimson scarf and a longbow slung over her back stepped forward. Her fire-tipped arrows gleamed at her waist.

"Knight Rank 3. Fire Mage Rank 1. Archery specialization. From a nomadic war-clan near the central forests."

"Sixth: Alaric Durnhart."

He stepped forward.

"Knight Rank 3. Dark Magic Rank 2."

No titles. No noble banners. But his presence was steady.

Several students whispered—recognition from the practical exam was spreading.

"Seventh: Issan Myrr."

A pale boy with violet robes stepped forward. A spirit orb floated behind his shoulder—faintly translucent, with shifting elemental hues.

"Summoner Rank 3. High-ranking wind spirit."

"Eighth: Ren Eltor."

A tall, lean boy with a crimson coat and arrogant eyes stepped up, lightning flickering along his fingertips.

"Fire and Lightning Magic, both Rank 3. Apprentice of Magus Relkar. Tower of Flame and Storm."

He tossed his hair back dramatically before stepping away.

"Ninth: Brennan Torval."

A broad-shouldered youth with a heavy sword and a quiet stare. He bowed slightly.

"Son of Platinum-rank adventurer Berrik Torval. Knight Rank 3. No magic yet."

"Tenth: Kael Kainen."

Kael grinned and stood up, turning toward the class.

"Southland martial line. Knight Rank 3. Fire Magic Rank 2. Punch first, talk after."

Some students chuckled.

Master Thorne gave a slow nod. "These ten scored the highest. But rankings shift. You will compete—whether you want to or not."

His gaze swept the class again.

"Let's see who keeps their seat… and who gets replaced."

Valen nodded once. "Today, before you begin selecting your core subjects, you will receive a foundational lecture. Aura, magic, summoning—you must understand the battlefield you've entered. Because the world will not give you time to learn slowly."

He turned and with a flick of his fingers, conjured an illusion above his desk—a swirling projection of glowing light that showed a burning kingdom and a sky split open by a black wound.

"This," he said, "was the world during the Veil War."

A hush fell.

"The Grand Arcanum was established in its aftermath. Not merely as a place of learning—but as a crucible to forge defenders of this kingdom. The Veil, which separates our realm from the realm of corrupted spirits, weakened. And through that crack came the Evil Spirits—not spirits of nature or elements, but twisted creatures of pure malice."

He let the image fade, then continued.

"These evil spirits corrupted men, beasts, and even the land. Villages vanished. Knights fell to madness. The royal family called upon all powers—mage towers, noble houses, and the first summoners—to push them back. It worked. Barely."

He paused.

"But the Veil remains fragile."

Another flick of his hand.

A new illusion shimmered—this time a glowing body with visible lines of energy running through it.

"This," he said, "is Aura. A force awakened from within. Mysterious, potent, and personal. The rank of one's aura is often determined by the depth of their life force—though that is not a strict rule. But more important than rank… is application."

The illusion shifted to show different warriors—one using aura to block an enormous blade with a raised arm, another speeding forward like lightning, another reinforcing a weapon with glowing energy.

"Aura can enhance your strength, your speed, your endurance. Some families pass down methods to refine its use. Take for example, Kael Kainen's clan from the South. Their mastery of fist-based aura combat is legendary."

Kael gave a satisfied grunt.

"Others combine aura with elemental magic. The knights of the North Duchy, for instance, use water magic with aura to form near-impenetrable defenses. But not all need magic."

He raised a brow.

"One of the strongest warriors in our history—the previous head of the Adventurer's Guild, Jarven Storne—never awakened magic at all. Yet as a Knight Rank 10, he stood among the greatest."

He let that sink in.

"Of course," Valen added, "most people do awaken both aura and magic. Their synergy allows for incredible power. Magic can coat your attacks, block incoming spells, or even alter the battlefield. You may already know spells such as this—"

He pointed a finger to the side wall. "Lightning Bolt."

A crackling arc shot from his hand, slamming into a crystal target that shimmered into view at the last second.

"But not all spells are taught. Most magic you use will develop from within—your body, your instincts, your will. That is why two students with the same element may wield very different abilities. Magic is… personal."

He raised another hand, and this time, healing vines wrapped gently around his forearm.

"Some magic types—like water, fire, plant, and light—can heal. Others defend, or destroy. We've only scratched the surface. That is why scholars and the Magic Towers continue to study it to this day."

A student raised a hand. "Sir… is it true the Towers only study one element?"

Valen smirked faintly. "Yes. And they're proud of it."

A few students chuckled.

"Each of the four elemental towers—Fire/Lightning, Water, Wind, and Dark—train only in their chosen field. Some mages have awakened other affinities, but they refuse to develop them. They claim mastery comes from focus. Others say it's arrogance."

He let the statement hang.

"And don't get them started on the Summoning Tower," he added. "The elemental towers consider summoners unworthy. They believe true strength comes only from oneself. That relying on spirits is weakness."

Selene stirred beside Alaric, but said nothing.

Valen waved his hand again.

A final illusion appeared—an image of a robed figure standing beside a radiant, beast-like spirit.

"Summoning is unique. There is no set method for gaining a spirit. Some are born beside them. Others earn them through prayer, trials, discovery, or sheer fate. The bond between summoner and spirit is mysterious—perhaps it's strength. Or heart. Or something else entirely."

He turned toward Selene briefly. "Powerful spirits consume more mana. So a summoner must be both strong and disciplined. Spirits are usually classified from low to high rank—and there are ten known Ancient Spirits, wielded by only a few throughout history."

He continued.

"Right now, only one person is known to hold such a bond—Arveth Kaelenmoor, head of the Summoning Tower. He commands the Ancient Wind Spirit."

A murmur of awe followed.

Valen's tone sharpened. "Spirits can attack, defend, heal—or do all three. And with enough trust… they can even merge with their summoner, amplifying their power to levels previously impossible."

He paused, then looked over the class.

"And before any of you get swept up in fear or prejudice… let me clarify: Dark spirits are not evil. Nor are dark mages. Power is a tool. It is the heart of the user that determines its path."

"But Evil Spirits—those corrupted beings from the Veil? They are something else. They are summoned through rituals, offerings, and blood. They want to corrupt. They exist to destroy. Do not confuse them with the spirits of the Summoners."

He stepped back from the illusion.

"That is the battlefield you enter."

A pause.

Then, with a smirk: "Now… go choose your classes."

As the lecture hall slowly cleared, Master Valen Thorne waved his hand. Sheets of glowing parchment began to float gently into the air, one hovering before each student.

"These are your registration scrolls," he said. "Every first-year must choose four major subjects and one elective for the year. Choose wisely. These classes will shape your strength and growth during your time at the Arcanum."

A murmur spread across the room as the scrolls settled before the students.

On each parchment glowed a list of available disciplines:

Major Subjects (Choose 4):

Swordsmanship

Spearmanship

Shield Defense

Fist Combat

Archery

Elemental Theory and Practical Casting

Healing Arts

Summoning and Spirit Bonding

Spirit Communication

Summoner's Combat Techniques

Magical Ethics

Advanced Runes and Spellcraft

Electives (Choose 1):

Combat Tactics

Monster Biology

Dungeon Navigation

Magical Item Crafting

Battlefield Strategy

Alaric read the list quietly, his mind already made up.

"Swordsmanship, Fist Combat, Elemental Theory and Practical Casting… and Summoning and Spirit Bonding," he said under his breath. His gaze drifted to the bottom of the page. Elective: Combat Tactics.

To understand the battlefield.

Selene, beside him, looked excitedly at her parchment.

"I'm going for Spirit Communication, Summoning and Spirit Bonding, Summoner's Combat Techniques, and… hmm, Archery for something physical. Elective: Combat Tactics."

She looked up. "What about you?"

Alaric showed her his list. She nodded approvingly.

"Fist combat? You planning to become unpredictable?"

Alaric grinned faintly. "Let's just say it's served me well before."

On his other side, Kael scratched the side of his jaw, muttering as he selected.

"Fist Combat, Shield Defense, Elemental Theory and Practical Casting, and Summoning and Spirit Bonding…" He looked up. "And of course, Combat Tactics. Gotta outthink the ones I can't outpunch."

Across the room, some other students scoffed as they filled their scrolls without even looking.

A boy with an expensive velvet-lined robe and a haughty smile leaned back, arms crossed. His voice carried just enough for nearby students to hear.

"Doesn't matter what classes we take. Only thing that matters is who was born to win."

Another student, a girl with silver braids and a sharp grin, nodded. "Let the commoners think they can catch up. I give it three weeks before the failures start getting reassigned to the lower classes."

Kael frowned but kept his eyes forward. Selene rolled her eyes. "Arcanum never fails to attract peacocks."

Alaric glanced at them, then back to his scroll.

"They can talk all they want," he thought. "But I've bled for what I have. I've fought monsters that don't care about bloodlines. And I'll keep growing—not because I was born to, but because I have to."

He finalized his choices with a small pulse of mana. The scroll shimmered and vanished into a soft wisp of light.

The students began to leave in waves, conversations turning to instructors, class schedules, and dormitory gossip.

As Alaric walked toward the exit with Selene and Kael, he passed a group of upper-year students loitering near a pillar. They were clearly watching the first-years.

"That's him," one whispered. "The one who beat the Direfang."

"I heard he's from Ironleaf. Class Alpha."

"Hmph. Let's see how long he lasts."

Then a voice, smooth and clear, spoke from the shadows of the archway.

"You fight well, Durnhart."

Alaric paused.

The speaker stepped forward—a tall boy with tousled black hair and pale gray eyes. He carried a massive sword strapped across his back and wore a cloak bearing a stylized serpent crest.

Revik Daros.

Top 1 of the entrance exam. Knight Rank 3. Dark Magic Rank 3. Scion of the prestigious Daros lineage.

Alaric met his gaze. "Thank you."

Revik's smile didn't reach his eyes. "But surviving beasts in the wild isn't the same as surviving here. Keep up. Or don't."

He turned, the heavy sword shifting against his back as he vanished into the crowd.

Kael muttered, "Wow. Friendly."

Selene elbowed him. "Ignore him. That guy's been groomed to think he owns the throne of every room he walks into."

Alaric said nothing.

But his hand closed slightly into a fist.

That night, Alaric stood by the window of his dorm room, the lights of Arcanum's towers glimmering in the distance.

He could feel it—the shifting tide of his life. This wasn't like the battlefield. This was a different kind of war.

One of growth.

Of judgment.

Of legacy.

"I will become strong enough," he whispered. "Strong enough to protect everyone I care about. To find Mira. And to make sure I never lose anyone again."

Behind him, Braen snored. Lance turned in his bunk.

But Alaric remained still, watching the stars, the embers of quiet resolve burning in his chest.