The academy's Etiquette Hall was a stark contrast to the rugged terrain of Training Field C. It was an ornate room lined with polished wood, high windows letting in beams of filtered sunlight that seemed almost out of place in a military setting.
The walls were adorned with banners representing the major factions: the Infernos with their fiery insignia, the Earthbornes with a grounded oak crest with Earth as a backdrop, and others symbolizing humanity's fractured unity.
Roland sat near the back of the room, his chair slightly tilted against the wall. Around him, students arranged themselves in clear social hierarchies. Nobles took the front rows, their postures perfect, their uniforms immaculate.
The merchant-class students filled the middle, eager to catch the attention of their social betters. low-level students, and those like Roland, were relegated to the back, their presence acknowledged only when necessary, which was usually when they needed someone to push around.
At the head of the class stood Professor Lorrin. She was a slender woman with an aura of cool precision, her jet-black hair tied in an impeccable bun.
Her gaze swept over the room like a hawk scanning for prey. Despite her calm demeanor, there was something sharp about her, an undercurrent of calculation in her every move.
"Power," Lorrin began, her voice smooth and commanding, "is not simply a matter of ability. Connections, influence, and perception are equally vital. You can have the greatest essence ability in this academy, but if you don't understand the dynamics of power, you will fall."
She stepped closer to the front rows, her eyes locking on a noble student. "For example, the Palmer family—renowned for their mastery of wind and water essence.
They call them The cold Palmers.
What ensures their status in society is not just their abilities but their alliances with the Aquacrest, Zephyran and the Earthbornes."
Roland watched as the noble students nodded in unison, their expressions smug. Meanwhile, the merchant-class cadets scribbled notes furiously, their pens racing to keep up with Lorrin's every word.
"As for those of you without such advantages," Lorrin's gaze flicked briefly to the back of the room, her lips curling into the faintest smirk, "your survival depends on navigating these dynamics. You must learn to recognize opportunity and seize it. Hesitate, and someone else will take what should have been yours."
Midway through the lecture, Lorrin assigned the students to small groups for a role-playing exercise. The scenario involved a political negotiation between factions, with each group tasked to strategize their approach.
Roland found himself in a group with three others: Braxion Grey, Eva Frost, and a merchant-class girl named Clara. From the moment the exercise began, Braxion dominated the discussion, his tone condescending as he dismissed Clara's suggestions.
"Your plan lacks finesse," Braxion sneered. "Typical of someone who's never had to make a real decision."
Clara's face flushed red, her hands trembling as she tried to respond. Roland leaned forward, his voice calm but edged with steel. "Last I checked, Braxion, this exercise is about teamwork. Or do you think that arrogance counts as a strategy?"
Braxion turned to Roland, his eyes narrowing. "And what would you know about strategy, Kuiper? You're an Empty pretending to play with the big leagues."
The tension crackled like an impending storm. Roland's mind raced, weighing his options. He could escalate the confrontation or diffuse it with precision.
'Great! just what I needed. An empty standing up for me.' Clara thought, 'My reputation is ruined.' She placed her head on the table in embarrassment.
She did not stand up for herself as she knew the Grey family could easily destroy hers as they were just a small family that owned a successful business, and with them now having connection to the outside world through the ChronolQ, it would take him a simple voice note to do so.
"Well," Roland began, a smirk tugging at his lips, "the great Braxion Grey might know everything about essence and nobles, but you're forgetting one thing—humans work best when they combine strengths. Or were you planning to alienate Clara and fail the exercise just to stroke your ego?"
Eva, who had been silent until now, let out an amused snort. "He's got a point, Braxion. Unless, of course, you'd rather explain to Professor Lorrin why our group collapsed under your brilliant leadership."
Braxion's jaw tightened, but he relented, muttering something under his breath. Clara shot Roland a disdainful glance, although no one noticed, at least that's what she though.
The group resumed their discussion.
When the exercise concluded, Professor Lorrin addressed the class. "Many of you demonstrated promise today," she said. "However, remember this—respect is a currency. Spend it wisely, or you'll find yourself bankrupt."
After class, the atmosphere remained charged. Roland wandered the academy's sprawling corridors, his mind buzzing from the day's events.
It was lunch break, this separated The morning and afternoon classes. Being bored of the noise in the cafeteria and trying to avoid the bullies who planned on jumping him due to Cole's absence he went out for a walk.
A few minutes later, he found Cole near the courtyard fountain, tossing pebbles into the water with unusual focus.
"Rough day?" Roland asked, leaning against the stone edge.
Cole didn't look up. "You could say that."
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the gentle ripple of the fountain. Finally, Cole spoke again. "You ever feel like no matter what you do, it's never enough?"
Roland raised an eyebrow. "You? Mr. Fire-and-Glory? I thought you thrived on doing everything bigger and better."
Cole let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, well, turns out that when you're born into the Cindercrest name, 'better' is just the bare minimum. Anything less than perfect? It's like you don't even exist."
Roland studied him for a moment, the weight of Cole's words sinking in. "Sounds like being at the top isn't all it's cracked up to be."
"More like a gilded cage," Cole muttered, tossing another pebble. "And the funny thing? Even with all this power, all this fire—" He clenched his fists, flames sparking faintly at his fingertips. "—they still see me as lesser. Like I'll never be enough because of my mother."
Roland hesitated, then placed a hand on Cole's shoulder. "You're more than your name. More than your family. Proving that to yourself is what matters."
Cole gave him a faint smile, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "You're full of surprises, Kuiper."
Later that evening, Roland crossed paths with Eva on the rooftop of the building which housed the homeroom classes. She stood by the railing, her white hair catching the faint glow of the academy lights.
"Looking for something?" Roland asked, approaching cautiously.
Eva didn't turn around. "Perspective."
He joined her, the two of them staring out over the sprawling campus. "You don't strike me as someone who lacks perspective," Roland said.
Eva's lips twitched into a wry smile. "Perspective is relative. Today reminded me of that."
She turned to face him, her ice-blue eyes sharp. "You're drawing attention, Kuiper. The kind that makes people ask questions."
"Let them ask," Roland replied, his voice steady. "I've got nothing to hide."
Eva raised an eyebrow. "Everyone has something to hide. The question is whether you can keep it hidden long enough to survive here."
"You aren't even an empty remember." She said walking away.
Her words lingered long after she left, a quiet warning that settled deep in Roland's chest.
As the day drew to a close, Roland found himself alone on the rooftop. The cool breeze carried with it the faint scent of the nearby forest, mingling with the distant hum of the academy's generators. From this vantage point, he could see the students below—cliques forming, alliances building, power shifting in subtle ways.
The nobles moved confidently, their laughter carrying an air of superiority. Merchant-class students lingered nearby, eager to bask in the nobles' glow and to bully the those weaker than them for satisfaction.
lower-tier students, by contrast, kept to themselves, their camaraderie born of shared struggles.
Roland leaned against the railing, his thoughts a tangled web. He'd spent his life as an outsider, an Empty. But here, at the academy, he was beginning to see cracks in the façade.
Nobles like Cole and Eva carried burdens no one acknowledged. Middle-class like Clara fought to earn respect they were rarely given. Even empties and low-tier students like Ian, with his quiet demeanor, had stories of survival etched into their bones.
The academy's rigid hierarchy loomed like an unscalable mountain, but Roland felt a flicker of resolve. He didn't need to conquer the system—he needed to navigate it. To find his place not by conforming but by carving his own path.
The moon hung high in the sky as Roland stood there, the shadows around him shifting like restless companions. He knew the road ahead would be treacherous, filled with challenges and enemies waiting in the wings. But for the first time in years, he felt something new.
Hope.