Elijah's eyelids fluttered open. The sterile white ceiling of the infirmary came into focus. "Where am I?" he groaned, pushing himself up on shaky arms.
"Good, you're awake," said a bespectacled man in white robes. Dr. Amane pressed a hand to Elijah's shoulder. "Take it easy. That was a serious hit you took."
Elijah ignored him and stood anyway, wincing as his abdominal muscles protested. "I lost, huh?"
"You woke up in my infirmary. What do you think?" The doctor sighed. "No serious injuries, though. You're cleared for class."
"Thanks... Dr. Amane." Elijah grabbed his jacket and stumbled out.
He arrived mid-lecture. Mrs. Viola, their stern general theory instructor, barely glanced up as he entered. "Sit down. We'll discuss your tardiness later."
The walk to his desk felt endless. Every pair of eyes burned into him—especially Lydia's. She didn't even bother to look up from her notes.
Damnit! Elijah slumped into his seat, fists clenched. How could I lose like that? To a noble? His nails bit into his palms. So much for being special.
Mia leaned over, her pink hair brushing the desk. "Hey, you okay? You took a bad hit"
"Yeah," Elijah snapped.
"I mean, that's Lydia Nogsek. She's a monster. Anyone in your position would've"
"In my position?" Elijah's voice dripped venom.
Mrs. Viola's chalk snapped against the blackboard. "Care to share with the class?"
"Sorry, ma'am," they muttered in unison.
Mrs. Van's pointer tapped the chalkboard diagram. "Magic capacity is categorized into six tiers. The higher your tier, the more complex spells you can cast and the greater your reserves. But—" Her gaze swept the room. "Never mistake tier for absolute strength. A skilled Tier 4 can defeat a careless Tier 1."
A noble student scoffed. "Then why does Meylin demand Tier 4 or higher for admission?"
"Potential." Mrs. Van's smile was razor-thin. "Higher tiers mean faster growth. And statistically—" Her pointer split the board: Nobles on the left, Commoners on the right. "—most commoners plateau below Tier 4, while nobles excel beyond it. Thus, our social order. Nobles rule. Commoners serve."
"Bullshit." Elijah's chair screeched as he leaned forward.
Lydia's laugh was a silver dagger. "Your performance today rather proved the instructor's point, didn't it?"
The class erupted in snickers. Elijah's knuckles whitened.
Natski slammed his palms on his desk. "There are commoners who broke the mold!"
"Yeah!" Nolan added weakly.
Mrs. Van's pointer snapped against the board. "How many? One in a thousand? Ten thousand?" The silence was answer enough. "Tiers aren't the sole measure, but they are destiny's handshake. Dismissed."
Elijah staggered as he stood—his abdomen still a knot of pain. Natski and Nolan caught his arms.
Arthur materialized beside them. "You're fools."
Natski's fists burst into flames. "The hell—?!"
"What good did that arguing do?" Arthur's voice was ice. "We lost. That's all they'll remember."
Elijah wrenched free. "So we shut up and take it?"
"No." Arthur rolled his shoulders. "You fight. I need sparring partners. You three want to whine or improve?"
They gaped at him.
"You've got nerve," Elijah muttered.
"What? Don't you want to train with the future Mage-General of Alon?"
Natski choked. "Wait—you're serious?"
"Deadly." Arthur turned on his heel.
Elijah's grin returned. "Joke's on you—I'm going to be the strongest mage in Alon. Then I'll be rolling in gold and—" he then started dreaming
"Keep dreaming, rat," Arthur called over his shoulder.
The clink of teacups filled the staff room as Mrs. Viola leaned back in her chair. "So, thoughts on this year's crop?"
Mr Ayske , knuckles, grinned. "Promising bunch."
Mr. Aola, another combat teacher, nodded as he joined them. "Exceptionally so."
"Especially that Michael Zoulen boy," the combat instructor added, stirring his tea.
Mrs. Viola's eyebrows rose. "The Zoulen Clan boy ?
Mr. Aola sighed dramatically. "Why couldn't he have been in my class?"
Their laughter echoed down the hall.
Dorm Room
The moment the door clicked shut, Elijah's knees buckled. He slid down the wood paneling, fingers digging into his scalp.
"Damn it."
He collapsed onto the bed, forearm pressed against his eyes. Images flashed—three dominant fighters, maybe more. Then his brother's wheelchair, that last promise: "Show them what Axora's made of."
A hollow laugh escaped him. "And I got wrecked by a girl in three seconds."
His fist slammed into the mattress. "Enough. Crying won't change shit." He sat up abruptly, pain flaring in his abdomen. Train. Recover. Get stronger. The plan looped in his head until exhaustion claimed him.
Next Morning
BANG BANG BANG!
"Open up, idiot!" Natski's voice carried through the door.
When no answer came, Nolan shouldered it open. The room was empty.
"Where is he?" Natski's flames licked at his sleeves.
Nolan rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, because I'm his keeper."
Arthur observed their bickering with detached amusement. "He's at the dining hall. Obviously."
The trio entered to no sign of Elijah.
Natski threw up his hands. "He's not here, genius."
Nolan's eye twitched. "You're insufferable—"
"Will you two ever shut up?" Arthur massaged his temples just as an upperclassman approached.
"Hey there," the newcomer said with a practiced smile. "I'm Onoi. Heard about yesterday's... incident."
Arthur's glare could've melted steel. Before he could retort, Elijah shuffled in, his gait still stiff.
"Elijah!" Nolan and Natski chorused.
"You're healed?" Nolan eyed his posture.
Elijah shrugged, sliding into the seat. "Fast healer. Who's this?"
Onoi extended a hand. "Name's—"
Arthur cut him off. "Someone leaving."
Onoi raised his hands in mock surrender. "Aww, don't be like that."
Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Explain how you're healed."
Elijah shoved food in his mouth. "Y'all acting like I got stabbed. It was one gut punch."
"But—" Nolan started.
"Excuse me!" Onoi interjected.
Arthur didn't blink. "You still here?"
Onoi's smile never wavered. "Just wanted to encourage you. Those nobles? Trained since they could walk. You can't match that overnight—but you can outwork them."
Elijah snorted. "Sounds like an excuse." Arthur nodded in agreement.
"Anyway," Onoi dropped a crumpled map on the table, "there's an... unofficial training ground. Find me if you're serious." He left with a wink.
Natski immediately rounded on Elijah. "Seriously how are you healed?"
Elijah leaned back, grinning. "Mysterious angel visited me last night."
"REALLY?!" Natski's shout drew stares.
The group exchanged glances—half exasperated, half curious before finishing their meal.
Classroom 1A
Whispers trailed Elijah as he took his seat. Lydia's gaze lingered on his abdomen. No way he recovered that fast...
Mr. Ayske entered, doing a double-take at Elijah's condition before clearing his throat. "Today we determine your magical affinities." He placed a crystal sphere on his desk. "Arthur, you're first."
Arthur's touch made the sphere flare first with lightning, then a pure white glow, finally a gust of wind.
"Primary: Lightning. Secondary: Light. Tertiary: Wind."
The class erupted. Natski blinked. "What's 'special class' mean?"
Mr. Ayske sighed. "Five base elements exist fire, water, wind, earth, lightning. But light and darkness are rarer. They enable unique magic like Nogsek families Light."
The testing continued:
- Brown (Earth/Fire/Water) - Class applauded his versatility
- Amane (Water/Darkness/Lightning- A few nervous glances at "darkness"
Natski (Fire/Earth/Lightning) "Hell yeah!" he crowed
Nolan (Water/Earth/Light ) - Natski gave an approving nod
Michael (Light /Lightning/Fire) - The room chilled
Lydia (Light/Wind/Lightning)- She went to sit down with an unfazed proud face
Mia (Wind/Water/Light)
Elijah (Darkness/Wind/Fire) A beat of silence. Then murmurs: "commoner with darkness as primary ?
" Now class, it is dependent on how much you train whether you can use all these affinities, there are many people who can only use their primary affinity, being able to use them all takes hard work, and in some cases you can know them all but be unable to take them to their best. Overall, Training and hardwork is essential. One of your tests at the end of the year will depend on your ability to atleast use 2. i advice you start training, now outside "
Training Grounds
First Lessons
"Pair up!" Mr. Ayske barked. "Close combat drills. Now."
Elijah with Arthur .
They practiced as Mr Ayske kept advising each and everyone of them
Lessons continued till they were all complete.
West Dorm Training Grounds
Elijah arrived at the training grounds panting, his breath fogging in the dawn air. Without hesitation, he dropped and began hammering through push-ups, each rep punctuated by a grunt of effort. Sweat darkened the dirt beneath him as he transitioned into squats, his thighs burning.
Arthur appeared silently, his expression unreadable. He wordlessly began his own routine beside Elijah, their synchronized exertion the only communication between them.
The peace shattered when Natski stormed in, flames flickering around his clenched fists. "Hey! You two started without us?" His voice cracked with indignation.
Elijah didn't pause between lightning drills. "We're training. Join or don't."
Natski's fire flared brighter, but a sharp look from Arthur made him huff and start his exercises. Nolan trailed behind, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
After hours of drills, Arthur stretched his neck. "All three of you. Now."
Natski grinned, cracking his knuckles.
"By the way, Nolan, can you even fight?" Natski asked
Nolan stiffened. "Of course I—"
"Riiight," Natski drawled, a small fireball dancing in his palm.
Elijah threw an arm around Nolan's shoulders. "Don't worry, little bro. I'll teach you."
"Little bro?!" Nolan's voice jumped an octave.
"You can't fight? Then you're useless here," Arthur stated bluntly.
"Hey—" Elijah said
"Well...he's kinda right," Natski admitted.
"Shut up!" Elijah snapped. "Nolan, you're sparring with Natski."
"Why me?!"
"Because me and Arthur are stronger.. "
Natskis fist connected with Elijah's nose with a sickening crack.
"Gah! What's wrong with you?!" Elijah clutched
"You're stronger than me???" Natski's fists burst into flames as he lunged at Elijah.
"I'm not?" Elijah barely dodged the swipe.
"Noo!" Natski wound up for another punch when Nolan grabbed his arm.
Arthur cracked his knuckles. "Enough talking. Fight."
The weeks that followed were brutal - rotating between Arthur demolishing all three of them (with Nolan struggling to keep up) and vicious 1v1 spars that left them bruised but sharper.
Dining Hall
Arthur stabbed his meat with a fork. "We need real opponents."
Elijah stood so fast his chair screeched. He marched to where Onoi sat alone. "That offer still on?"
Onoi's smile didn't reach his eyes. "East gate at dusk. No uniforms."
"We're going tonight," Elijah announced upon returning.
Natski's fork bent in his grip. "Who died and made you boss?"
The general theory lesson ended with a sharp snap of chalk. "Before you leave," Mrs. Viola's voice froze them all, "a security notice. 8 teenagers from nearby districts have vanished this month." Her gaze swept the room. "Including your classmate Mia."
Elijah stiffened. girl who'd sat beside him .
"I hadn't noticed she's gone"
"Stay within academy grounds after dark," she continued, eyes lingering on Elijah. "The eastern slums in particular have become... hazardous."
In the afternoon all 4 met with Onoi and he took them to a shady alley
The Black Door
The alley stank of rotting food and cheap liquor. Onoi knocked three times on a battered black door. A slot opened - bloodshot eyes scanned them - then came the clank of heavy bolts.
Inside, lantern light revealed a sunken fighting pit surrounded by jeering men. Nolan grabbed Elijah's sleeve. "We should leave."
Onoi led them to a one-eyed man lounging on a crate throne. "Mr. Louse, new fighters."
Louse spat. "These brats?"
"Just us three," Elijah said, shoving Nolan back.
Louse grinned, revealing blackened teeth. "Prove you're not cannon fodder."
The Fights
1. Arthur
- Fought a mountain of muscle with spiked knuckles
- Won barely winded
2. Elijah
- Faced a wiry girl with poison daggers
- Barely won, left bleeding from three slashes
3. Natski
- Battled a fire mage twice his size
- Ended with both combatants scorched and gasping
Nolan watched from the shadows, fists clenched tight enough to draw blood.
Louse tossed them a jingling pouch. "Not complete shit. Fight weekly, take 10% of your wager pool."
Elijah's eyes lit up at the coins. "You pay us?"
"If you survive next week's realfighters," Louse chuckled darkly.
As they left, Onoi murmured to himself: "Perfect.."