Kael opened his eyes to the faint chirping of sparrows outside the dust-caked window, their weak calls cutting through the morning mist clinging to the cobblestone streets. The ceiling fan creaked, its warped iron blades spinning in futile circles. He stared at the ceiling, the image of a pitch-black flower from last night’s dream fading. Just a dream. Yet an unease lingered, like whispers from the shadows. He sat up, bare feet meeting the cold wooden floor, heedless of the chill.

  The guest room glowed faintly orange from an oil lamp, its flame flickering. Kael walked to the wooden table, where half a loaf of black bread, a jar of amber soap, and a tin of mint powder sat. He broke off a piece of bread, its dry crust snapping under his teeth. Enough to survive, he thought, chewing slowly, ignoring the bitter taste. He rubbed mint powder on his teeth, the sharp, cool scent sharpening his senses. Breath must be clean, so no one notices. He calculated, gaze detached.

  He recalled the mysterious notebook Smith once read—now lost, its memories erased. Smith had been taught: *“Magical knowledge is a fabric woven from fate; each spell is a needle’s prick. Prick wrong, and the user vanishes.”* A hidden entity behind the curtain schemed. Today was Monday, his first day at the Academy of Light, a place that might teach magic or extraordinary traits—paths to power Smith had mentioned. A spark of excitement flared, but he snuffed it out, keeping his mind razor-sharp. *“The Academy is an opportunity. But without talent, it’s useless,”* he thought, eyes flickering briefly.

  Kael wore a plain white shirt and a tattered gray cloak, stuffing bread into his pocket, checking his coin pouch, and slinging a small satchel over his shoulder. He planned to stay at the Academy’s dormitory. The journey was too far to waste money—123 Copper Coins, 2 Silver Coins. The rent bill, 10 Silver Coins, loomed. He calculated: enough for a one-way carriage. The apartment lock creaked as he stepped into Ashveil’s foggy streets, the first of two commoner districts en route to Silvershine, home of the Academy of Light.

  Ashveil was a labyrinth of narrow alleys, crooked inns, and blackened wood encrusted with coal dust. Chimneys belched gray smoke into the mist, mingling with the clatter of steam carts and vendors’ shouts peddling wilted vegetables and dented tinware. Copper pipes snaked along walls, hissing steam laced with oil and sweat. Gas streetlamps flickered, casting jagged shadows on cobblestones, their iron frames etched with faded floral patterns, relics of a grander era.

  Kael blended into the crowd, his gray cloak merging with workers’ dull coats and children’s rags. A dwarf with soot-streaked beard pushed a scrap cart, cursing as a wheel jammed. Women in patched shawls haggled over a sack of potatoes, voices edged with desperation. Kael watched, expression unchanged. In his past life, he knew hunger, illness. A flicker of bitterness surfaced, but he crushed it. *“Not my concern,”* he thought, quickening his pace, the coin pouch’s weight anchoring him to reality.

  At a bustling intersection, Kael hailed a steam carriage—a rickety contraption of wood and brass, its boiler spewing white clouds, rolling on iron wheels. “To Silvershine, through Rusthaven,” he said, voice steady. The driver, a scarred man with a monocle, growled, “20 Copper Coins.” Kael paid, climbing onto a bench beside a beastman with fox ears, who nodded curtly. The carriage rattled, and Kael thought of the Academy. Magic. Extraordinary traits. Or a trap by that entity? The black flower dream flashed, his brow furrowing, but he returned to indifference. *“Sign or warning, it doesn’t matter. I’ll find answers.”*

  The carriage left Ashveil, entering Rusthaven, where the air reeked of molten metal and burning coal. Factories loomed, chimneys belching black smoke that blotted the sun. Wide streets buzzed with chaos, forges ringing with hammer strikes, sparks flying. Houses mixed brick and rippled iron, their facades adorned with rusted gears and copper pipes, echoes of an ambitious industrial age. A silver-haired elf played a steam violin, drawing a small crowd, the music a fleeting softness amid the harshness.

  Kael watched children chase a clockwork toy—a ticking beetle scuttling across the pavement—laughing despite tattered clothes. In his past life, he knew no such joy. A pang of sadness flickered, but he crushed it. *“I once wanted this,”* he thought. If he mastered magic, if he uncovered the lost notebook’s secrets, his fate could change. The beastman muttered about “arrogant nobles” in Silvershine. Kael didn’t respond, gaze cold. Fitting in or being ostracized didn’t matter. He needed knowledge and power.

  The carriage entered Silvershine, the contrast stark. Mist cleared, revealing broad avenues of smooth white stone, marble mansions, and gleaming glass. Brass towers sparkled, etched with gears entwined with vines, exuding sharp elegance. Airships glided above, hulls mirror-bright. Nobles in silver-trimmed coats, elves in flowing cloaks, and orcs in velvet vests strode with pride. Mechanical horses pulled sleek carriages, drivers in crisp uniforms.

  Kael passed through a wrought-iron gate, students’ laughter mingling in the air. *“Quite lively,”* he thought, marveling inwardly. The Academy of Light’s main hall unfolded, a space carved from dreams. The marble floor, veined with gold, gleamed under a steam-powered chandelier on the vaulted ceiling, each silver droplet falling like a lost star. Stained-glass walls towered, depicting a figure casting spells and a warrior wielding a radiant sword, refracting seven-colored beams through rune-etched brass columns. Runes pulsed faintly, like magical veins in the stone. At the hall’s center, a mechanical dragon fountain hissed steam, its ruby eyes glinting as if watching. The air carried amber incense and cold metal—the scent of antiquity.

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  Kael scanned the hall, *“Truly extravagant,”* he thought, memorizing details. Students in deep green silk uniforms glided past, whispering, their glances flicking to him—the outsider in a tattered cloak. He didn’t care. His goal was extraordinary power, not to curse scornful looks.

  A student blocked his path—an elf, young, with platinum hair tied high, eyes sharp as blades. His uniform bore silver threads, a badge of two stars encircling a radiant sun, marking noble lineage. “Who are you?” he asked, voice cold, tinged with arrogant curiosity. “A new student from Ashveil? I smell coal on you.” Nearby students hushed, eyes converging.

  Kael met the elf’s gaze, eyes icy. “Kael Smith. New student,” he replied, voice even, unshaken. In his mind, he analyzed: *“This elf wears a black vest, likely a second-year, and that badge—two stars.”* At the Academy, rules distinguished students: first-years wore deep green, second- and third-years wore black, with badges varying from one to three stars. Kael asked, voice steady, “What’s your name?” Knowing this was a second-year, he stayed polite.

  The elf raised an eyebrow, surprised by the composure. “Lucien Veyris,” he said, arms crossed. “Second-year, Veyris lineage. You’re one of the three Light Scholarship recipients, aren’t you? Odd luck for a commoner. But listen, Smith, this Academy doesn’t welcome the poor. Wealth and lineage determine your place. One wrong step, and the students will crush you.” He tilted his head, eyes scanning Kael’s tattered cloak, appraising an oddity.

  Kael’s expression didn’t waver, though a flicker of bitterness recalled his past life—trapped in a sickbed, powerless, without chances. He crushed the thought, choosing words. He spoke slowly, eyes locked on Lucien. “Rich or poor, I’ll learn because fate chose me. Are you warning me out of concern, or because you fear I might surpass you?” His voice stayed even, not provocative, but sharp enough to make Lucien pause.

  Lucien chuckled, the sound sharp as breaking glass. “Interesting. You don’t cower or grovel. But don’t get cocky, commoner. You’ll learn your place soon enough.” He turned, silk cloak billowing, the two-star badge glinting.

  Kael watched him go, expression unchanged, mind churning, *“Trouble’s brewing.”*

  Kael walked slowly, recalling Smith’s memories. *“The Academy of Light specializes in teaching magic, extraordinary powers, their traits, runes, and ancient languages. It also covers creatures from the Void and fearsome races.”* First-years studied magic concepts, ancient tongues, Nightwisp Bloom, blessings, and racial strongholds.

  His thoughts halted as a classroom appeared, a wooden sign on the double doors reading “1A1.” *“Sigh, the first year will be dull,”* he thought. Pushing the doors open, a wave of cold, contemptuous stares hit him. Kael steadied his mind, scanning the room. *“Why do I feel they’re just stepping stones?”* A whimsical thought amused him.

  His gaze swept the class, and Kael moved unhurriedly to the back, near the highest, least noticeable seats. The classroom, designed like a university lecture hall from his old world, stirred faint emotion. He sat, removed his tattered black cloak, and waited for the lesson.

  Minutes later, a woman pushed through the doors. Her pale skin gleamed, her purple eyes and hair, tied in a bun, captivating. She wore a black silk cloak adorned with golden patterns and twinkling stars, exuding mystery. Beneath was a black silk corset, high-necked and fitted, and a floor-length skirt that sparked curiosity about the legs beneath. In her hand, she held a strange crystal orb, like a fortune-teller’s.

  “Hello, class. I’m Veyna, your homeroom teacher this year,” Veyna said, stepping to the podium.

  The class buzzed, recognizing her status. In this world, those on the extraordinary path, if undirected or exceptionally talented, were summoned by the government to serve. They were assigned tasks based on ability and power.

  Veyna, a fearsome woman, was known to Kael through rumors: *“Veyna served the government but retired to teach. She’s among the top 10 most powerful mages and explored the Black Continent, a deadly place, if I heard right.”*

  “SILENCE!” Veyna shouted, silencing the chattering class.

  Seeing the students cowed, Veyna didn’t explain. She placed the orb on the podium, her purple eyes fixing on Kael.

  Kael, unfazed by her gaze, was slightly surprised. Before he could speak, Veyna called him forward. “Kael Smith, as a new scholarship student, we lack details on your personal information and path. I’ll handle this. Come up and place your hand on the orb.”

  Kael didn’t hesitate, walking down. Without his tattered black cloak, he drew attention. Female and male students whispered, “He’s really handsome!” They were shocked this “pauper” was so striking. Kael, unaware of his allure, thought himself ordinary.

  At the podium, Veyna looked him up and down, nodding as if satisfied. Her stare made Kael uneasy.

  “Let me explain,” she said. “This orb reveals your Nightwisp Bloom. White is weak, unable to grow. Green is average, with potential but often useless abilities. Blue is normal to good. Purple is quite good. Yellow is strong, very powerful. Red is exceptional, immensely powerful. That’s the ranking for testing your Nightwisp. As for blessings or magic, no test is needed—I know your background.”

  Her detailed explanation excited Kael. Ignoring her latter comment, he focused on the wondrous orb.

  “May I place my hand on it now, ma’am?” he asked Veyna, voice calm, masking excitement. Veyna nodded, saying nothing.

  Kael placed his hand on the orb. Moments later, a bright white light glowed, and Kael felt disappointment—he hadn’t expected to be so weak. But something unprecedented happened.

  A black aura surged, swallowing the feeble light. The orb, unable to resist, cracked. Veyna shouted, “Damn it, get back!” and pushed Kael away. The push was gentle, not knocking him down, but Kael ignored his surroundings, staring at the fracturing orb. He didn’t focus on the cracks but on a symbol within: a black eye without a pupil, crowned by a small black coronet, entwined below by thorny vines. *“What is that?”* The question lingered in his mind.

  Seconds later, the orb shattered, glass fragments scattering but contained by a 20cm barrier Veyna conjured, protecting everyone. The shards fell, unable to harm.

  “Damn it, what the hell? I’ll have to pay for this,” Veyna grumbled, then turned to Kael with unprecedented suspicion. The class stared, astonishment etched on their faces. The exceptional among them began to notice him more.

  Kael cursed inwardly, *“Damn this attention. I hate it.”*