The morning announcements echoed through the grand entrance hall like the opening salvo of a war drill.
"Students of the Academy," the instructor's voice boomed, sharp as cracked stone, slicing through the lingering chatter, "your dormitories can wait. Your first order of business is to attend your inaugural classes. Report to your assigned lecture halls immediately."
A collective groan rippled through the crowd—dozens of students deflating like punctured sails—but it fizzled fast as the instructor's glare swept the room like a guillotine blade.
Ace exhaled slowly, somewhere between resignation and quiet amusement.
"That's one way to make sure we don't get too comfortable," he muttered, smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth. "Heaven forbid we unpack before being blessed with the joys of elemental theory."
Beside him, a slightly disheveled student—plain brown hair sticking out under a crooked academy cap, expression equal parts wide-eyed curiosity and mild exhaustion—let out a laugh.
"Guess the nobles will have to wait to pop the wine," the guy joked, clutching a battered old book with frayed drawstrings. His uniform was clean but already wrinkled, shoes scuffed like he'd run to campus. "Name's Klaus, by the way. Commoner—if my socks didn't give it away."
Ace glanced down. One sock striped blue, the other plain grey. The corners of his mouth twitched upward.
"Ace. Technically noble," he replied, lowering his voice, "but barely enough to get me through the door."
Klaus grinned. "Well, we're both underdogs, then."
They weaved through the current of students, the air thick with pressed uniforms, gleaming house crests, and the faint aroma of freshly-pressed entitlement. Ace—a low-tier noble wrapped in plain cloth and quiet defiance—and Klaus, a commoner with mismatched socks and an unfiltered grin, stood out like chipped coins at a noble's gala.
But there was an ease between them already. Two outsiders, swimming against the tide of House politics and polished legacies.
"Less time to get into trouble, I guess," Klaus added, adjusting his book as they moved. "Though, betting the highborns already planned their first 'study breaks' at whatever fancy tavern they sniffed out."
Ace snorted, adjusting the worn strap of his bag. "And probably sent their valets ahead to unpack. Wouldn't want to strain themselves before mastering the ancient art of levitating a goblet of wine."
The corridors forked, the crowd splitting, and Klaus slowed, pointing out an elaborate arcane etching glowing faintly along the marble walls. Runes pulsed beneath the surface—faint but intricate, the enchantment older than most of the students combined.
"You see that? Look how clean those lines are," Klaus whispered, eyes wide with wonder. "Bet that enchantment's worth more than my dad's house."
Most students passed without so much as a glance, their bored expressions etched with generational indifference.
Ace smiled faintly. That curiosity? Rare. Refreshing, even.
"So, Pyro for you, right?" Klaus asked, tipping his head toward the branching hallway veiled in red banners. "Sounds… toasty."
Ace sighed, already picturing burnt eyebrows in his immediate future. "Hopefully more than just lighting myself on fire. But knowing my luck? Probably a masterclass in creative combustion."
Klaus laughed, jerking a thumb down the opposite hall decked in oceanic blue. "Water for me. Guess I'll be learning how to… make people wet, or whatever."
Ace's grin sharpened like a drawn blade. "Impressive, Klaus. Day one and you're already mastering the art of making people wet? Didn't think you had it in you."
Klaus sputtered, choking back a laugh, his face flushing as realization caught up. "Man—words sound real wrong when you say 'em like that—but yeah… technically not wrong."
They cracked up, drawing a few side-eyes, but neither cared. The shared humor cut through the Academy's polished facade like a blade through silk.
Klaus clapped him on the shoulder, still grinning. "Try not to set yourself on fire, yeah?"
"You too," Ace shot back. "Try not to drown yourself in… ambition."
Klaus laughed, peeling off toward the Water halls, vanishing into the throng.
Ace paused for a moment, adjusting his coat, eyes lingering on the red banners leading toward the Pyro wing. His steps carried him forward, steady, mind already ticking through the challenges ahead.
His House may be low-tier, his title barely scraping nobility's boots—but beneath the dry humor, the deflection, the sharp words—Ace carried something most of these polished legacies didn't:
A secret.
Buried beneath layered indifference and sharp wit, hidden beneath the quietly honed drills of his Unique Ability—and if he survived long enough to master it?
It could flip this entire Academy's game upside down.
Ace Dragnell — Current Status
• Name: Ace Dragnell
• Noble Status: Low-Tier Noble
• Age: 16 (First Year Student)
Core Stats:
• Strength — D
• Agility — D
• Endurance — C
• Intelligence — S
• Willpower — A
• Charisma — D
• Arcane Power — C+
Abilities:
• Unique Ability: Molecular Disassembly & Regeneration (Rudimentary Control — Increased Mastery)
Disassemble body at molecular/atomic level and reassemble at will. Can regenerate from a single cell or atom. Detached body parts retain full functionality. Current control allows rapid detachment and reattachment of hand/foot with reduced strain. Further refinement needed for full-body mastery.
Elemental Affinities:
• Fire
• Air
• Lightning
Skills:
• Basic Self-Defense — (C)
• Survival (Wilderness - from isolated manor life) — (D)
• Weapon Forging — (B-)
Reputation:
• Unknown / Low-Tier Noble (among students)
Silver Crowns: 300