The massive iron gates of the Imperial Academy of Monarchs loomed before Arashi like the gaping maw of an ancient leviathan, hungry for his soul.
Engraved with pulsating golden runes that hummed with forbidden arcane energy, they stood as both invitation and warning—a monument to power he had been cruelly denied at birth.
Students in meticulously tailored uniforms streamed past him, their laughter cutting through the crisp morning air like daggers. *Nobles*. All of them.
Privileged sons and daughters of houses whose lineages stretched back centuries, their innate magic crackling around them in vibrant auras, invisible to common eyes but painfully obvious to his.
They barely acknowledged his existence, their gazes sliding over him with the casual disdain reserved for servants or stray dogs.
Arashi's jaw tightened as he took a deliberate step forward.
The gates groaned open without resistance, ancient spells woven into the metal recognizing something in him that even he couldn't fully comprehend.
"Fascinating," he whispered, his voice barely audible.
"The gates should have rejected me instantly. Either they haven't updated the registry... or someone wants me inside these walls."
The moment he crossed the threshold, the whispers erupted like a swarm of venomous insects.
"By the Emperor's blood, did you see that?"
"Wait, isn't that—"
"Impossible. That's Kurobane Arashi. The magic-less heir."
"The exiled heir. The family disgrace. What twisted game is the Academy playing by allowing a failure through its sacred gates?"
Each word sliced into him like invisible blades, but Arashi's expression remained an unreadable mask, perfected through years of enduring similar torments.
His storm-gray eyes revealed nothing as he continued forward, shoulders squared, steps measured and deliberate.
'Let them talk. Let them underestimate me. They'll learn soon enough what happens when you corner a wolf and mistake it for a sheep.'
At the center stood a magnificent fountain, its crystalline waters shimmering with pure, undiluted mana—a display of opulence that made Arashi's mouth go dry with both longing and resentment.
Students gathered in tight clusters, their conversations dying abruptly as his presence infected their carefully constructed social ecosystem.
The silence that followed was suffocating, charged with hostility and morbid curiosity.
Then, like predators scenting weakness, they parted.
A figure strode through their midst, his very movements causing ripples of admiration and fear.
Takeda Renji.
He was everything Arashi was not—tall, broad-shouldered, and radiating raw, untamed power that seemed to distort the very air around him.
His storm-gray uniform, identical to those worn by others, somehow appeared more regal on his frame, the golden insignia of House Takeda gleaming on his chest like a small sun.
The sword at his hip—more ornament than weapon for most students—pulsed with barely restrained magic that Arashi could feel scraping against his skin from ten paces away.
Arashi had encountered countless Renjis before—entitled, arrogant, drunk on power handed to them at birth.
Yet something about this one sent warning signals racing down his spine.
This was no ordinary bully. This was a predator who had claimed the Academy as his territory, and Arashi had just trespassed.
Renji's lips curled into a smile that never reached his eyes. "Well," he drawled, voice carrying across the now-silent courtyard with theatrical precision, "it seems even the Academy's legendary wards have their flaws.
The disgraced son of House Kurobane has actually crawled his way into our hallowed halls."
Nervous laughter rippled through the crowd, students shifting uncomfortably but none daring to break ranks.
Arashi's pulse quickened, but his face betrayed nothing as he tilted his head slightly. "Takeda Renji," he responded, his voice deceptively soft yet carrying just as far.
"Your reputation precedes you. I'm genuinely honored that someone of your... considerable standing would waste precious breath acknowledging my insignificant existence."
The subtle emphasis wasn't lost on Renji. His smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, a hairline crack in his perfect façade.
"I simply find it curious," Renji continued, taking another step closer, magic crackling visibly at his fingertips now.
"A failure with no magic, still desperately clinging to a world that has already discarded him like yesterday's trash. What exactly do you hope to accomplish here, Kurobane? Or should I even call you that, considering your family stripped you of the name?"
The crowd's reaction was immediate—sharp intakes of breath, widened eyes, cruel smiles.
This was the entertainment they had been waiting for, a public execution to start their day.
He exhaled slowly, deliberately, before meeting Renji's gaze with unnerving calm.
"Tell me, Renji," he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper that somehow carried across the silent courtyard.
"If you saw an ant willingly walking into a lion's den, would you stop to mock it? Or would you be too busy wondering if perhaps it knew something about the lion that you didn't?"
The implication hung in the air like a drawn blade.
Renji's expression darkened, magic flaring more intensely around his hands. "What exactly are you implying, nobody?"
Arashi smiled then—a cold, sharp thing that transformed his ordinary features into something almost predatory.
"Nothing at all. Just a philosophical question. I've always had a curious mind, even without magic to occupy it."
The tension in the courtyard thickened to something almost tangible.
Students edged backward, sensing the imminent violence brewing between the two. Renji's hand drifted to his sword hilt, fingers whitening around the ornate grip.
Magic began to swirl around him, distorting the air like heat waves.
"Perhaps," Renji snarled, "I should demonstrate why ants don't belong among lions."
Arashi didn't flinch, didn't retreat. Instead, his smile widened fractionally. "Please," he whispered. "I insist."
Before Renji could draw his weapon, a wave of pure, overwhelming pressure cascaded through the courtyard, so powerful that several students staggered.
The fountain's waters froze mid-flow, suspended in crystalline perfection.
"That Is Enough."
The command sliced through the tension like a executioner's blade.
A woman strode forward, her very presence commanding immediate, absolute submission.
The crowd parted before her not out of courtesy, but instinctive self-preservation.
Kagura Ayame.
Daughter of the Grand General, heir to House Kagura, and perhaps the only student whose power rivaled the Academy's masters themselves.
Her silver hair, a Kagura bloodline trait, cascaded down her back like liquid moonlight, and her violet eyes—cold, calculating, merciless—surveyed the scene with barely concealed contempt.
The red and black prefect uniform she wore seemed to absorb the light around her, the golden prefect's badge at her chest gleaming with authority that transcended mere Academy rules.
"The Imperial Academy," she stated, each word precise and cutting.
"does not tolerate petty harassment. It especially does not tolerate magic being drawn in common areas against unarmed students." Her gaze flicked toward Renji, who visibly flinched despite his status.
"Such behavior is beneath those who claim noble heritage."
Her attention then shifted to Arashi, and he felt something akin to being dissected, her gaze peeling away layers of pretense to examine what lay beneath.
"He is a student, admitted by the Academy's authority. Until proven otherwise through proper channels, he is to be afforded the same respect as any who wear our colors."
The silence that followed was absolute, not even a whisper disturbing it.
Renji's magic receded, though the fury in his eyes only intensified.
"As you command, Prefect Kagura," he conceded, the words strained through clenched teeth. "Though I wonder why you're so quick to defend someone who can't even defend himself."
He turned to Arashi, voice dropping to a venomous whisper meant for him alone.
"This isn't over, magic-less. Not by far. The Academy has ways of... purging mistakes. And you're the biggest mistake they've ever made."
With that, he turned sharply and stalked away, his entourage scrambling to follow in his wake.
The courtyard slowly returned to life, students dispersing with reluctance, disappointed that the spectacle had been cut short.
But Arashi remained rooted in place, suddenly aware that Ayame hadn't moved either.
She was still watching him, her expression inscrutable.
Not with the contempt he expected.
Not with the pity he despised.
But with something far more dangerous—genuine interest.
"Kurobane Arashi," she said, his name rolling off her tongue like she was testing its weight.
"You've caused quite the commotion for someone who's barely set foot on Academy grounds."
Arashi inclined his head slightly, a gesture just shy of the respect noble protocol demanded.
"That depends entirely on whether I still hold claim to the name Kurobane," he replied, a hint of bitterness seeping through.
"Or has that too been stripped from me when no one was looking?"
Her eyes narrowed fractionally. "Names are merely symbols, and symbols have only the power we choose to give them." Her voice lowered, meant for his ears alone.
"I don't concern myself with the petty politics of noble houses or bloodlines. I concern myself with potential and power—in all its forms."
She took a step closer, and Arashi felt a pressure unlike anything he'd ever experienced—her raw power, carefully controlled but deliberately revealed to him. A warning. Or perhaps a test.
"Your entrance here has already disrupted the delicate balance. If you're weak, as they claim, you won't survive the week." Her eyes locked with his, searching.
"you'd best prepare yourself for what follows." Said with pity in her eyes.
"And what exactly follows, Prefect Kagura?" Arashi asked, surprised at his own boldness.
Something flickered across her perfect features—the ghost of a smile, there and gone in an instant.
"War," she said simply. "Of a kind these pampered nobles have never truly known."
Without waiting for his response, she turned away, her silver hair catching the morning light like a battle standard.
As she disappeared into the crowd, Arashi finally allowed the mask to slip, just for a moment, a dangerous smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
'Interesting. Very interesting. She sees beyond the surface. She suspects something.'
'Good. Let her watch. Let them all watch.'
He adjusted the plain sword at his hip—useless to most without magic to channel through it—and continued forward into the heart of the Academy.
His first day had barely begun.
And already, the battlefield was taking shape.
'Let the games begin.'