Academy Days and Ancient Wars

The warm midday light spilled through the arched windows of the lecture hall, throwing long golden lines across the polished floors and climbing the curves of the tiered seating. Ardentis Academy's western classroom—was alive with quiet hums and the crisp cadence of a strict lecturer's voice.

Nyra Veyr Ryla sat near the far right column, halfway up the rising rows, pressed up against the window seat like it owed her something. Her chin rested on one palm, black hair spilling down in waves that shimmered faintly in the light. A tiny beauty mark sat just below her left cheekbone—something she constantly forgot was there but which Lily von Thalor claimed made her look "mysteriously tragic and terminally pretty."

Currently, Nyra looked anything but mysterious. She was zoning out, her black eyes unfocused, fixed somewhere beyond the tree-lined courtyard outside. The silver rings in her ears glinted faintly, matching her quiet elegance—but right now, her thoughts were far from elegant.

"You're doing it again," came a whisper from her left.

Nyra didn't look. "Doing what."

"Worrying about your baby brother like you're a retired battle granny."

Nyra sighed, still not looking.

"He's eight. Not three," Lily von Thalor continued, propping her chin on her own hands. Her blonde hair was pulled into a loose twist, and her green eyes practically twinkled with mischief. "He survived the naming ceremony without bolting. That's practically adulthood."

Nyra finally glanced at her. "Mom messaged this morning. He started training with Uncle Vaeril."

The planet of Vireya has an advanced, wrist-bound communication and multimedia device that syncs with the Aether Network, allowing users to message, voice-call, stream, and access curated public channels. Unlike passive aether-powered tools like the Lexicon, the AetherComm requires active aether manipulation to function — restricting its use exclusively to awakened individuals.

Lily's brows rose. "Ah. That training."

"Mm."

"Did he cry yet?"

Nyra allowed herself a small smirk. "He wouldn't dare."

"I remember when he was a waddling baby, and I gave him that sparkroot candy. You thought he'd explode."

"You gave him sparkroot," Nyra muttered.

"I told him to chew slowly."

Their quiet laughter was promptly cut short.

"Miss Veyr. Miss Thalor."

The teacher's voice rang out from below, sharp and authoritative. Professor Haldenna—an aging human woman with a spine made of steel and eyes that could cut stone—stood at the podium, arms crossed.

"If the affairs outside these windows are more important than Nullborn tactics, perhaps you'd prefer field duty with the scouts?"

"No, Professor," the two chorused quickly.

"Good." Haldenna returned to her lecture, tapping the board. The aether hologram behind her shifted, displaying a large tactical map showing Nullzones in flashing red and orange. "As I was saying, incursions have spiked in four zones over the last moon cycle. The southern regions of Vireya and two in Caladria have seen heavy Nullborn activity. Casualties are increasing."

Nyra straightened in her seat, worry flickering in her chest.

Zerise...

Was her sister still in the Southern Nullfront? She hadn't messaged in over two weeks.

Lily noticed. Her teasing expression softened, and she nudged Nyra's arm lightly. "She's fine. If anyone can turn a Nullborn into roadkill, it's your sister."

Haldenna must've caught the classroom mood drop. She sighed and clasped her hands.

"Rest assured, the major powers are mobilizing. And remember—most of you won't be on the frontlines. Not for now. But…"

The map faded. Another projection appeared.

A countdown.

9 years. 1 month. 5 days.

"The next Planetary Games are approaching. 9 years may seem far, but it isn't. Many of you are already in your second or third tier." Her eyes swept across the rows. "If you're nearing the peak of Tier 3, do not attempt a breakthrough."

Murmurs rose. Haldenna raised her voice.

" I'll say it again," Professor Haldenna's voice rang across the room, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Do not break through to Tier 4 if you intend to participate in the Planetary Games. Advancing early may disqualify you. The Games remain the most accessible—and realistic—path to Tier 5. Those who endure them come back changed. Sharper. Stronger. Those who rush ahead often find themselves left behind."

A student toward the middle raised his hand.

"Yes, Soren?" Haldenna called.

The boy stood. He had a confident air about him, the kind that usually came with decent talent and a few shallow victories. "Miss, I'm currently early Tier 3. I'm confident I can reach Peak and maybe even break through to Tier 4 before the Games begin. So... would we just be wasting time waiting?"

Haldenna didn't miss a beat.

"A fair question," she nodded. "Let's unpack that."

She walked slowly down the steps toward the podium, arms behind her back.

"You remember that every time you tier up, your Class—the one assigned by Omniscript at Tier 2—undergoes an upgrade, yes?"

"Yes, Professor," Soren replied.

"Good. That upgrade is not random. It's based on your combat history, your behavior during the current tier, your control over your elemental affinities, and your growth. If you've done little but kill weaker beasts and hide behind spells, your upgrade will reflect that. On the other hand, someone who's taken risks—faced enemies stronger than themselves, refined their control, and survived—will receive a more powerful upgrade. That means better stats, better skills, and a better future."

She paused, then gave Soren a direct look.

"And you, Soren, from what I've reviewed... you've barely scratched the surface of your first element, Fire. Now you've likely awakened your second, and you're eager to test it. But if you rush into Tier 4 without mastering even one—" she raised a finger, "—you'll find yourself beaten by someone still in Tier 3. Possibly humiliated. Possibly dead."

A few students chuckled under their breath. Soren flushed and sat back down.

Haldenna continued, "You want to prepare? Then train. Deepen your elemental control. Hunt stronger beasts. Push yourself. Consume elemental-aligned resources—beast cores, elemental fruits, even specific monster meats—all of which strengthen your body and aether."

She returned to the podium, gaze sweeping over the room.

"Or you can chase a number and end up another forgettable Tier 4 with a flimsy foundation."

Silence followed, the kind born of hard truth.

Professor Haldenna tapped twice on the floating crystal podium, snapping the drifting attention of her students back to her.

"Now, before we end today's lecture—listen carefully," she said, her voice sharp. "There are two major milestones you need to prepare for as young awakeners."

She raised a finger.

"The first is the Planetary Games. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."

The room stirred slightly at the mention. Everyone had heard of them, but few had ever seen them.

"You can only participate once in your life," she continued. "Which means most participants are at Tier 2 or Tier 3. Joining at Tier 1?" She gave a pointed look. "Suicide. Plain and simple."

A murmur passed through the classroom.

"And the second milestone," she said, her tone darkening slightly, "is the Hundred-Year Wars. Unlike the Games, they don't come with invitations."

A heavy silence fell over the class.

"There has only been one such war in Vireya since the integration of Omniscript," Haldenna said. "And it came at a terrible cost. The complete annihilation and enslavement of an entire race."

At those words, the temperature in the room seemed to drop.

Several students subtly glanced toward the Moon Elf students seated in the back row. But they didn't react — calm, composed, their expressions unreadable.

Most of the high-tier noble students knew a rough version of the story. They knew that long ago, the Elarandor continent had once been home to three great elven races — the High Elves, the Moon Elves, and the Drows, more commonly known as the Dark Elves.

But something had happened during the last Hundred-Year War.

When it ended, the Moon Elves — once among the strongest races in Vireya — returned home weakened. And the Drows… never returned at all.

That war was unique in another way: it was the only time both the Planetary Games and the Hundred-Year War began in the same year. The Drows who had crossed Tier 4 and gone off to fight in the war vanished — not officially declared dead, but never seen again.

The Moon Elves who did return were scarred, both in strength and spirit. And in their fury, they turned on the Drows who remained behind — those too weak or too young to join the war, or those returning from the planetary Games.

A purge followed.

Many Drows were killed. The rest were enslaved, their race reduced to a shadow of its former self. And strangely, not a single other race raised a voice in protest. No pity. No outrage. No sympathy.

Just silence.

Haldenna's gaze swept across the class.

"To join the Hundred-Year Wars, the minimum requirement is Tier 4. So don't lose sleep over it yet. You have years to go. But remember—it's not just the rewards that scale with power. The risks do, too."

She flicked her fingers, summoning a glowing diagram of a human figure next to a tiered crystal.

"Now. Since someone is bound to ask—let's talk about EXP overflow," she said, as the diagram shifted to show a glowing core surrounded by faint wisps of energy.

"When your Aether Core is full—say you've hit Tier 3 Peak—you'll stop absorbing purified soul aether into the core itself. But you still get EXP. That excess doesn't vanish. It gets stored in your body."

She paused, letting that settle.

"Now, don't worry. Once you tier up, that stored aether will flow into the newly upgraded core. Of course…" Her voice lowered slightly, "...the amount will be less than if it had gone in directly."

A hand went up. A girl with dark auburn hair and quick eyes.

"Yes, Kyle?"

Kyle stood. "Professor, if EXP comes from killing beasts or enemies, and that's just their purified soul aether... then how does training skills, enhancing our elements give us EXP? Where does that come from?"

Haldenna gave a pleased nod. "Smart question."

She smiled faintly, then pointed at the glowing figure in the diagram.

"That… comes from Omniscript itself."

Another murmur rippled through the class.

"Let me explain with an example. Kyle, you're currently Peak Tier 2, yes?"

Kyle nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Let's say you get 5% EXP for defeating a Tier 1 beast, and around 20% from a Tier 2 beast. That's when your core is open and accepting EXP normally."

"But say your level gets capped at Peak Tier 2. You keep fighting Tier 2 beasts—killing dozens—but your core's full, so you're storing the excess soul aether in your body. Then you finally break through to Tier 3."

She raised a finger again.

"Now do you expect to get that same full 20% boost for your shiny new Tier 3 core? Of course not. The aether your body stored has already been filtered at the Tier 2 level."

The diagram shifted again—showing a stream of aether particles compressing, dimming.

"However—Omniscript adjusts. It compresses and recalibrates the stored energy to reach the purity needed for a Tier 3 core.

The conversion works like this: let's say you've stored up 100% of the EXP required to level up in Tier 2. During the process, that gets refined down—compressed and purified—into a form suitable for Tier 3. The result? That 100% drops to around 30 - 40%.

So no, your grinding wasn't wasted. But it doesn't give you a head start either."

A few students nodded, taking notes now.

"Now let me give you a warning." Her expression turned grim. "Do not abuse this. Don't go around hoarding EXP in your body thinking it'll give you an advantage later."

She let the silence stretch for a beat.

"Once, a fool tried exactly that. Hunted high-tier Beasts, refused to tier up, thinking he'd stockpile soul aether for the next breakthrough."

She snapped her fingers, and the diagram shattered into fragments.

"He died. Horribly. Of aether poisoning. His body wasn't built to contain that much unanchored energy."

One student quietly swallowed.

Haldenna folded her arms. "Omniscript may reward risk. But not stupidity."

She glanced at the clock rune glowing on the side wall.

"That's all for today. Next lecture, we'll break down element pairings and tactical advantages in multi-affinity combat. Dismissed."

Chairs shuffled. Students rose.

And Nyra, still seated, exhaled softly—her mind drifting back to her younger brother.

He had 9 years. Just like her.

And the world wouldn't wait for either of them.