Lucian jolted awake, his chest heaving as fragments of the nightmare clung to his mind. Sweat dampened his hair, and his breath came in short, uneven gasps.
"That dream again," he muttered, rubbing his face with trembling hands. The images wouldn't fade, leaving him with a hollow ache in his chest.
Sliding out of bed, he grabbed the bracelet from his nightstand. Channeling a small amount of mana into it, he retrieved a clear mind potion. The bitter liquid slid down his throat, sharp but grounding, helping him push the haunting thoughts aside.
After a long shower, Lucian dressed in his usual attire: long sleeves, trousers, gloves, and sturdy boots. The layers served as his armor, hiding the scars etched across his body—marks of a past he wasn't ready to reveal.
Glancing around his dorm room, Lucian was struck again by how extravagant it was. The space was far larger than anything he'd ever called home, its luxury almost suffocating. Instead of feeling grateful, the high cost of admission weighed heavily on his mind. With barely enough money left for two weeks of meals—one meal per day—he'd already resolved to find a campus job. For now, he skipped breakfast, as he had every day since arriving.
"I'll figure it out later," he thought, steeling himself. "For now, focus on getting through today."
He descended to the dormitory's common area, where students were already gathering in groups, their chatter lively and full of energy. Lucian kept his head down, slipping past without pause. Making friends wasn't something he knew how to do. Casual interactions, the kind that came so naturally to others, felt like an insurmountable hurdle. The thought of physical contact—someone brushing against him, even by mistake—made his skin crawl.
The university campus was massive, almost overwhelming. Towering spires glowed with enchanted lights, their reflections shimmering off crystal bridges that connected the buildings. Students moved about, some strolling with fantastical pets, others soaring on wyverns whose scales gleamed in the morning sun. The air buzzed with excitement and magic, but Lucian kept his eyes forward, focused on his destination: the fresher's campus.
Taking a shortcut through a quieter pathway, Lucian stopped abruptly, his eyes drawn to something strange. In an open clearing, a towering black pillar jutted out of the ground, its surface slick and pulsating as though alive. At its center, a grotesque eye throbbed in sync with the pillar's unsettling rhythm. It was revolting, completely out of place among the pristine surroundings.
"What is this?" he muttered, stepping closer. "Who would put something like this here?"
He glanced around, expecting others to notice. To his shock, students passed by without so much as a second glance. Some even walked past it, their expressions indifferent, as if it didn't exist. The casual ignorance chilled him. How could something so grotesque go unnoticed?
Driven by curiosity, Lucian approached cautiously. The closer he got, the heavier the air seemed to grow. The pillar radiated an aura of dread, an oppressive malice that sent shivers down his spine. Hesitating briefly, he extended a hand toward it. The moment his fingers grazed its surface, the eye snapped open, fixing its gaze on him.
A searing pain shot through Lucian's head. He stumbled back, clutching his temples as the agony intensified. His vision blurred, and for a moment, the world tilted. Desperate, he fumbled for another clear mind potion and downed it. The sharp taste grounded him, the pain fading into a dull throb.
"What the hell was that?" he gasped, his eyes darting back to the pulsating pillar. The eye remained open, its unblinking stare following him. Heart pounding, Lucian turned on his heel and hurried away.
Whatever it was, it wasn't normal, and the fact that everyone ignored it only made it worse. But he shook his head, forcing himself to focus. "I don't have time for this. Classes start soon, and it's not my problem anyway."
When he arrived at the fresher's campus, a crowd had already gathered around the student sheets. The air was thick with impatient murmurs and jostling bodies as students vied for a better view. Lucian frowned, his stomach twisting at the thought of pushing through the chaos. But he needed to find his name.
Taking a deep breath, he moved into the throng, his body tense. With careful, deliberate steps, he weaved through the crowd, dodging elbows and shoulders with practiced precision. He made sure no one touched him—just the thought of skin contact made his chest tighten.
Finally reaching the front, Lucian's sharp eyes scanned the sheet. His name stood out under Class A, but the number beside it made his stomach sink.
Rank: 17th.
He stared at the number, his jaw tightening. "Seventeenth," he muttered bitterly. "I tried so hard, but it's not enough. I need to do better. I have to stand out."
Now that he had found his class, Lucian backed out of the crowd just as carefully as he'd entered. The noise of the bustling students faded into the background as he made his way toward the classroom, his mind racing with plans to improve.
The classroom was already buzzing when he arrived. Most students had gathered in cliques, their laughter and easy camaraderie filling the space. Lucian scanned the room and found a seat in the farthest corner, pressing his back to the wall.
It wasn't that he wanted to be alone—he simply didn't know how to belong. Years of isolation, with only his sister Megan and a few trusted companions for company, had left him ill-equipped for this kind of social environment. The lively chatter around him felt distant, like a world he could observe but not enter.
The first professor entered, a man introducing himself as Jayce. He specialized in mana control—a subject that piqued Lucian's interest immediately. Mana control had always been his weakest area, and he saw this as a chance to improve. But just as class began, Jayce announced a seating rearrangement.
Lucian's seat was moved, placing him near unfamiliar faces. Worse, the girl beside him kept stealing glances. Her curiosity was obvious, and it made Lucian uncomfortable. He didn't know how to respond. "Is this how people make friends at university?" he wondered, fidgeting with his gloves.
Then came the announcement that shook the room. Jayce revealed that an elite S-Class had already been formed, filled with the top 10 students, including the prince and princess. Excited murmurs filled the room, but Lucian's fists clenched in frustration.
"This changes everything," he thought, his jaw tightening. "How can I stand out if they're already so far ahead? I have to improve. I can't fail."
Pouring himself another clear mind potion, Lucian calmed his racing thoughts. But the girl beside him kept stealing glances. Finally, he turned to her, his voice hesitant. "Do you need something?"
Startled, the girl blinked before smiling warmly. "Oh, no," she said quickly. "I just thought I'd introduce myself since we're sitting next to each other. I'm Celeste Morven. And you?"
"Lucian Hale," he replied, keeping his tone guarded.
Her expression shifted to surprise. "Hale? As in, Lucy Hale?"
Lucian nodded silently. Before she could say more, Jayce interjected, calling the class to order. Celeste didn't speak to him again, her earlier curiosity replaced by quiet contemplation.
The orientation classes dragged on, leaving Lucian drained. It was his first time officially attending school, and everything felt overwhelming. The endless introductions, the casual way others seemed to connect—it was all alien to him. By the end of the day, his mind buzzed with exhaustion.
Celeste, who had seemed so curious earlier, kept her distance after learning his name. Lucian wasn't surprised. The Hale family name carried its own weight, especially after the rumors that surrounded his mother. Most believed she'd borne children out of wedlock with a commoner—a lie to hide the truth of his father's demonic heritage. He preferred it that way. The fewer questions people asked, the better.
As the last class ended, Lucian packed his belongings and headed for the door. The other students were still chattering excitedly about the S-Class and the royal heirs. He tuned them out, eager to leave.
Just as he reached the exit, a figure stepped into his path. Gareth Aetherfall stood there, his medium frame blocking the way. His posture was casual, but his expression was anything but.
"Hey, Hale," Gareth sneered, his voice sharp enough to cut. "You've been getting a little too comfortable with my fiancée, haven't you?"
Lucian blinked, caught off guard. "What? I—"
Before he could finish, Gareth's fist slammed into his stomach. The blow sent Lucian staggering back, his breath knocked out of him.
"Didn't anyone teach you manners?" Gareth said coldly, grabbing Lucian by the collar and yanking him upright.
Lucian gritted his teeth, his eyes narrowing despite the pain. "Let go of me."
Gareth smirked, his grip tightening. "Or what? You'll fight back? A bastard like you doesn't even belong here."
The remaining students in the room had gone silent, their attention fixed on the confrontation. Celeste tried to step forward, her hand outstretched, but Gareth waved a hand, activating his gravity magic. The air around her grew heavy, rooting her in place.
Gareth leaned closer to Lucian, his tone dripping with contempt. "This is the only time I'm going to warn you. Stay away from her."
With that, he shoved Lucian to the ground. The impact stung, but Lucian refused to let Gareth see him wince. He pushed himself up slowly, brushing off his sleeves. Celeste rushed forward as the gravity spell lifted, but Lucian raised a hand to stop her.
"I'm fine," he said, his voice steady but quiet. "Just... don't."
Without another word, he turned and walked out of the classroom, ignoring the murmurs that followed him.
That evening, Lucian found himself at the open training grounds. The sun had long since set, and the space was illuminated by glowing orbs of magic that floated high above. Gripping his sword tightly, he swung it in steady, repetitive motions, the sound of metal slicing through the air echoing in the silence.
The pain from Gareth's blow still throbbed in his gut, but he pushed it aside, focusing on the rhythm of his movements. Each swing felt like a release, a way to channel the frustration and helplessness he'd felt earlier.
"I thought it would be worse," he muttered to himself, his voice low. "But if this is all they've got... I can handle it."
He practiced until his arms ached, the sword growing heavier with every strike. By the time he finally stopped, his legs felt like lead, and his vision blurred with exhaustion. He collapsed onto the ground, lying flat on his back as he stared up at the full moon.
Reaching a trembling hand toward the sky, Lucian whispered softly, "Wait for me, Megan. It's my turn to save you."