Chapter 2
A few months after Sonny vanished from the Omegas, life at the Academy of Magic moves on as if nothing extraordinary happens. Students flood the campus for the start of the new year, laughing, arguing, and speculating about rankings and classes.
Ellie walks through the main gates with a small group of friends, already complaining about early lectures. As they pass through the city streets near campus, Ellie notices a man with his face covered, slumped against a wall, wrapped in dirty bandages and half‑asleep. He looks thin, exhausted, and completely out of place among the well‑dressed students.
Her friends grimace. “That guy smells terrible,” one of them mutters. “Why is he even here?”
Ellie stops. “Be nice,” she says sharply. “Maybe he’s just down on his luck. Have some empathy.”
She kneels, slips a few bills from her pocket, and places them beside the man. “Good luck,” she whispers. For a brief moment, she thinks he might respond, but he remains silent. Still, something about him feels strangely familiar as she walks away.
Ellie takes her seat in the lecture hall, and the room slowly quiets as the professor steps to the front, setting his notes down with a soft tap. “Alright, settle in,” he says, scanning the room.
“I know most of you have heard this before, but every year someone claims they didn’t know the rules. This is me making sure that excuse doesn’t work.” A few students chuckle.
Ellie rolls her eyes. She has heard this spiel before. “This is the Academy of Magic,” he continues. “Our job is simple. We develop magic users, refine ability, and prepare you for the real world. Everything here revolves around performance, and that starts with rankings.”
He turns and gestures to the board behind him. “Your rank is determined by three things. Grades, battle results, and faculty evaluation. No mystery there. Rankings are reevaluated every semester, so yes, you can climb.”
A hand goes up in the back. “What about challenge matches?” The professor nods.
“Voluntary battles are allowed. Both students must agree. Win, and your rank improves marginally. Lose, and you learn something. Rankings matter because rankings decide who gets noticed and who participates in tournaments.” He leans against the desk.
“High‑ranking students get invitations. Guilds. Bronze Corps. Special contracts. If you want a future that involves more than theory and training rooms, you need results.” He pauses, letting that sink in.
“Most of you are aiming for guild work. And let’s be honest, the most desirable work is crypt and portal diving. High risk, high reward. Monsters, rare resources, prestige. If you’re good, it pays well and builds a reputation fast.”
Someone mutters, “If you survive.” The professor smirks. “Yes. If you survive.”
He straightens and continues. “Quick refresher. Crypts are multi‑layered, persistent structures. Portals are single‑floor, temporary, and significantly more volatile. You’ll learn the finer details later. For now, understand this. Both are dangerous, and neither care about your school rank once you step inside.”
He taps the board again. “Now, power systems. This is where people tend to stop listening because they think they already know it all. Humor me.”
He raises one finger. “Magic. Most of you are born with it. You cannot acquire it later. It’s elemental or sub‑elemental by nature, and each of you has a ceiling. That ceiling is why you’re here. Train hard, understand your limits, and society opens doors for you. Magic runs the world.”
A second finger. “Energy. Anyone can wield it. It draws directly from your life force and removes the natural limits on your body. Strength, speed, endurance. It pairs well with magic, and pure energy users can become frighteningly effective. Don’t overlook it.”
He hesitates before raising the third finger. “Ether.” The room grows quieter. “Ether is the ability to tap into spiritual energy. Yours, the environment’s, and in some cases, the Earth’s itself. Everything is connected to it. In theory, there is no limit to how much ether one can cultivate and control.” A few students lean forward. “In practice,” he continues, voice flattening, “ether is inefficient, painful, and extremely dangerous to train. Many try. Most fail. Those who don’t die are left broken or disabled.”
He lets the silence linger.
“Because of that, we do not know the true extent of ether’s combat potential. What we do know is that it excels in medicine. Healing. Disease control. Cellular manipulation.”
He clasps his hands together. “And because there is no reliable, efficient way to train ether for combat, no university worth a damn teaches it for that purpose.” A few students laugh. Others nod.
The professor scans the room once more. “So here’s the bottom line. If your goal is a guild contract or a place in the Bronze Corps, it starts here. Training. Discipline. Results. The rankings will not lie for you, and neither will the battlefield.”
He picks up his notes. “Class dismissed. Tomorrow, we start seeing who’s serious.”
After class, Ellie heads home and realizes her fridge is nearly empty. She grabs her bag and walks downtown to the market. She does not notice the small metallic charm someone slips into her pocket as she browses the aisles.
On her walk back, Ellie senses something is off. Footsteps echo behind her, matching her pace. She turns into an alley, hoping to lose whoever follows her. Instead, three men step into her path. “Pretty late to be alone,” one of them says with a grin.
“We know who you are. Hand over the valuables.”
Ellie raises her hand. “If you know who I am, you’d better back away or answer to my magic.”
“Go ahead,” another taunts. “Try.”
She does. Nothing happens. Panic hits just as a punch slams into her stomach.
She collapses, gasping, as they laugh and close in. The first man never sees the counterattack. A hand catches his wrist and twists.
Another drops with a precise strike to the throat. The third stumbles back, terrified, before collapsing unconscious. Ellie looks up in shock to see the same bandaged man standing over her.
“Are you okay?” he asks quietly.
She nods, stunned. “You’re the guy from earlier. What’s your name?” He does not answer. He simply turns and disappears into the street.
That night, Ellie showers and tries to calm her nerves. Unexpectedly her apartment door opens and she nearly screams. A young man steps inside, carrying a duffle bag.
“Who are you and why do you have a key?” she demands. He hands her a note. In a monotone voice, he says, “My name is Sonny. The dean says housing is full, and this is the only place with space. I’ll only be here a few nights a week.” Ellie reads the note, fuming.
“This is insane. Boys and girls can’t room together, plus there is only one bed. I’m talking to the dean tomorrow. Get out. You’re not sleeping here.”
Sonny gives a short nod, steps outside, and Ellie slams the door in his face. Sonny sits beside the door and drifts off to sleep.
