The morning air was crisp and cool, carrying with it the hum of early activity across the Imperial Academy's Training Grounds. The students gathered near the Academy Stables, a sprawling structure of fine dark wood reinforced with enchanted iron, built to house the finest warhorses in the kingdom. The faint scent of hay and leather mixed with the sharp metallic tang of enchanted bridles, while the soft neighing of over a hundred horses filled the air.
Despite the grand setting, murmurs of dissatisfaction rippled through the group of fifteen upper-year students, all of whom were nobles of high standing.
"Are we seriously going to ride horses?"
"Right? I thought we'd use a portal!"
Theodore couldn't help but scoff internally. (Rotten noble brats—privileged and lazy.)
The Academy Stables were vast, stretching across the horizon, housing rows of meticulously bred stallions and battle-trained warhorses. These weren't mere riding horses; they were creatures raised for endurance, agility, and even combat. Each one was a testament to wealth and power, their muscular frames glistening under the morning sun as they pawed the ground restlessly.
Instructors stood at the front, commanding immediate attention.
Mr. June, a young and sharp-looking man, stood with his arms crossed. His unusual brown-and-yellow eyes gave him a fox-like quality, always watching, always calculating. Though he wore a formal instructor's suit, his smooth hands and faintly glowing fingertips betrayed his magical expertise.
Beside him was Miss Lidia, a striking contrast. Where June was composed, Lidia was a storm waiting to break—her long black hair flowed in the breeze, and her coal-dark eyes gleamed with challenge. A massive greatsword was strapped to her back, the kind of weapon few could wield effectively, marking her as a true Aura User. Her expression was deceptively warm, but the sheer force of her aura made even the most arrogant nobles hesitate.
"Alright, everyone!" Mr. June called out, his voice cutting through the grumbles. "Choose your horse. We'll be riding to the village rather than teleporting. Consider it part of your training."
The students moved towards the stalls confidently, picking their mounts with practiced ease. Some murmured appreciation for their horses, while others examined the enchanted saddles meant to assist those with less experience.
Theodore, however, stood motionless, his crimson eyes scanning the large beasts before him.
This was his first time riding a horse, and despite his confidence in battle, he couldn't ignore the fact that these creatures were massive. Their sheer size and raw power made him uneasy, though he wouldn't let it show. He hesitated for only a moment, but that was enough.
A pair of strong hands suddenly lifted him with ease.
Before he could react, he found himself plopped onto a horse as if he were nothing more than a misplaced sack of flour.
"Let's share a horse, little brother," a familiar voice teased behind him.
Theodore whipped his head around, his face instantly flushing with rage. Vincent Vermin, his cousin, sat behind him, wearing a grin that radiated smugness.
"I'm not a child!" Theodore snapped, already plotting a thousand ways to make Vincent regret his existence.
Before he could leap off the horse and commit actual murder, Mr. June overheard the exchange and chuckled. "You're Prince Theodore, correct? This is a good idea, Your Highness. You've never ridden before, and as a prince, you do need protection."
Protection? From what? Embarrassment?
Theodore's eye twitched. "I'll agree," he said through gritted teeth, "but don't treat me like a child again, or I swear—"
Vincent cut him off with a laugh, ruffling Theodore's hair as if he were some adorable pet. "You're ten years old. Let me spoil you, my adorable cousin."
That was it.
Something snapped.
Theodore's voice came out colder than ice. "If you really cared about me," he said, his crimson eyes burning, "you wouldn't have abandoned me when I was sick and starving. You left me alone."
Silence.
A suffocating, unforgiving silence fell over the entire group. The murmurs and laughter died instantly. Even the horses seemed to shift uneasily, as if sensing the tension.
"Wow… are they going to fight?" someone whispered.
"Did the prince just yell at Vincent?"
Vincent, who had been all smiles just moments ago, froze. His hands shook, and his mouth opened as if to speak, but no words came out.
For the first time since Theodore had arrived, Vincent's confidence cracked.
A long, heavy pause stretched between them before Vincent barely managed to whisper, "I'm sorry…"
Theodore turned away sharply, unwilling to acknowledge the sudden guilt in Vincent's eyes. He had said what he wanted to say, but he didn't want pity—not from Vincent, not from anyone.
(Damn it… I let this body's emotions control me. I need to train my mind better.)
He clenched his fists. This mission couldn't start soon enough.
The journey from Elden Academy to Daunt Village was long and grueling, pushing past the second and third security walls of the school before spilling into the vast wilderness beyond. The towering walls of obsidian stone, infused with ancient magic, loomed over them as they passed through the heavy iron gates that marked the boundary between the school and the outside world.
Once beyond the academy's influence, the world seemed larger, untamed, and filled with the unknown.
Their path stretched into an endless sea of towering trees, the Emerald Veil Forest, a dense woodland that served as both a natural border and a dangerous expanse filled with untamed mana beasts. Sunlight barely touched the forest floor, blocked by the towering canopy above, casting long, eerie shadows that danced with each rustling leaf.
The students traveled on horseback, the rhythmic clopping of hooves against dirt filling the silence between conversations. Every so often, they stopped for rest, allowing their mounts to drink from crystal-clear streams that cut through the forest like veins of silver.
The journey lasted several hours, with the towering Academy walls fading into the horizon, swallowed by the dense foliage. By the time they emerged from the other side of the Emerald Veil, the sun was beginning its descent, casting the landscape in hues of orange and gold.
Perched on a lonely mountain slope, Daunt Village was a stark contrast to the grandeur of the academy. The settlement was small, home to no more than sixty people, its buildings old and worn, constructed from weathered stone and aged timber, with thatched roofs that sagged slightly from years of wear. The streets were narrow and unpaved, winding through the village in uneven paths that led toward the central square, where an old bell tower stood like a silent guardian.
Faint lantern light flickered from iron sconces, struggling against the thickening twilight. Unlike most villages, which carried the lively hum of activity, Daunt was eerily silent. Even the wind seemed hesitant, whispering softly as if afraid to disturb the unnatural stillness.
Something about the air felt… wrong.
Despite the rich harvest fields surrounding the village—golden wheat swayed under the fading sunlight, and orchards bore an abundance of ripe fruit—there was no joy here, no celebration of prosperity. The buildings, though sturdy, had peeling paint and boarded windows, as if no one dared to renovate them.
"A village rich in harvest yet drowning in fear," Theodore mused internally. (What a contradiction.)
A small crowd had already gathered at the village entrance, their faces tired yet expectant, watching as the students approached.
From the group, an elderly man stepped forward, his back slightly hunched, supported by a wooden staff. His eyebrows were so thick and bushy they could have been mistaken for caterpillars resting above his eyes.
"We're grateful for your help," the elder spoke, his voice quivering with age. "My name is Mr. Smith, the village chief. Thank you for answering our call."
Mr. June, ever the professional, dismounted smoothly, giving a respectful nod. "We are honored to assist you, Chief Smith." He then turned slightly, gesturing toward Theodore. "And this year, we've brought someone special—Prince Theodore."
At the mention of his name, whispers spread through the villagers.
Theodore flinched, already anticipating their reaction.
Just as expected, the villagers knelt—but their expressions weren't filled with admiration or awe. Their eyes held something colder, more calculating—as if they were assessing him rather than welcoming him.
Theodore could hear the murmurs.
"Isn't he the cursed prince?"
"I thought he was weak. What is he doing here?"
"Is he really capable of helping us?"
(Of course, they react like this.) Theodore sighed internally. (My reputation is still in shambles. To them, I'm just a fragile noble playing hero.)
Mr. June, sensing the awkwardness, cleared his throat. "Chief Smith, my students have traveled far. Where can we stable our horses, and where will we be staying?"
The village chief smiled, though it was strained. "Of course, of course. Tom, take their horses to the stable. As for lodging, you'll be staying in the old inn near the square. It hasn't been used in some time, but it should be sufficient."
As a few villagers led the horses away, Theodore's body suddenly tensed.
A strange feeling pricked at his senses, a creeping, unfamiliar sensation that made his skin crawl.
At first, it was a faint hum, like distant static in his bones. But the closer he stepped toward the edge of the village, the stronger it became—a pulse, a presence lurking within the forest.
It was no ordinary magic.
It was cursed.
Theodore's breath hitched as a deep, instinctual hunger stirred inside him, as if his very being resonated with the dark energy. His fingers twitched involuntarily, his mind whispering temptations he didn't quite understand.
He wanted to absorb it.
To let it pull him into its embrace.
"This place… it's alive with corruption," he realized.
And he wasn't sure if that excited him or terrified him.
Vincent dismounted gracefully and turned to Theodore, offering a hand to help him down. "Let's go, Theo," he said, his voice laced with something between concern and desperation.
Theodore immediately yanked himself free, eyes burning with cold anger. "Didn't I tell you not to touch me?"
Vincent sighed, clearly expecting resistance but not willing to back down. "I just want to talk—"
Theodore cut him off sharply. "If you wanted to talk, you would've done it years ago. You abandoned me. Don't pretend now."
Vincent flinched, his usually confident posture wavering. "There's a reason I didn't come back," he admitted, voice lower. "It's because of Queen Bianca."
At the mention of his stepmother, a bitter taste settled in Theodore's mouth. He scoffed. "I see. That explains it," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But that doesn't mean I forgive you. Caden tormented me for years, and you let it happen. You were my cousin, but you did nothing."
Vincent's face fell. "Theo, I—"
"Enough," Theodore snapped, cutting him off once more. Without another word, he turned and stormed into the dormitory, leaving Vincent standing there, guilt-ridden and silent.
The building stood apart from the village, slightly elevated on a worn-out hill. A once-grand structure, now faded with time, the dormitory loomed over the landscape with its two stories of weathered wood and stained stone.
Despite its decayed exterior, the architecture suggested it had once been a noble house—perhaps a former governor's residence or an old merchant's estate. The wood of the balcony railing was splintered, and the windows bore cracks, some hastily patched with thin cloth to keep out the cold. A few of the stone steps leading to the entrance were crumbling, forcing the students to watch their footing as they ascended.
Some of the nobles sneered at the sight.
"We're supposed to stay here?"
"Disgusting. It looks like it should be abandoned."
"Do they really expect royalty to sleep in a place like this?"
However, upon stepping inside, the contrast was shocking.
The interior was surprisingly well-maintained. Polished wooden floors reflected the dim candlelight, and thick velvet curtains adorned the high windows, keeping out the chill. The walls were lined with old bookshelves, filled with ancient tomes and maps, and a grand chandelier hung in the center of the hall, its magic-fueled crystals humming softly with light.
The place had an eerie charm—as if someone had cared for it despite its forgotten existence.
Miss Lidia, their instructor, strode forward, her boots clicking against the floor. "Alright," she said, addressing the group. "I will assign your rooms. Follow me."
As the students were guided upstairs, Theodore's eyes scanned the second-floor hallway. The ceilings were high, the carpets thick and ornate, but the doors leading to the rooms bore visible scratches and dents—signs of age or perhaps something more sinister.
Miss Lidia stopped in front of a door. "This will be your room, Prince Theodore," she said.
Theodore stepped inside and immediately frowned.
The space was larger than expected but contained three beds instead of one.
"Damn it. Two extra beds."
Theodore hated it already. Privacy had become a luxury he fiercely guarded, and now it was ripped away from him once more.
"This is a mission, not a vacation," he reminded himself, exhaling sharply as he dropped his bag onto one of the beds.
Knock. Knock.
A sharp knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. He opened it to find two senior students standing there.
The first, a tall boy with curly auburn hair and a confident grin, spoke first. "I'm Marvin. Fire Magic—six circles."
The second, a lean boy with short black hair and an arrogant smirk, crossed his arms. "Cai. Earth Magic. Six circles."
Theodore took them in, quickly assessing their strength. Sixth-circle mages—no joke. These were advanced students, personally selected by the principal for this mission. If they were here, it meant this wasn't just a simple "awakening" expedition.
"So," Marvin said, his tone far too casual, "how did you end up here?"
Cai snorted, his dark eyes gleaming with clear disdain. "I don't babysit kids. And honestly, if something happens to you, I doubt the king would care."
Theodore's smile didn't waver. "And you think I'm weak?"
Marvin blinked, surprised by Theodore's unshaken composure, while Cai laughed outright. "Sure. I'll like to duel you to see your strength."
Theodore's smirk deepened. "Anytime," he said smoothly, his voice carrying an unsettling confidence. "Things have changed. I'm no longer what you've heard—I'm different."
Cai raised an eyebrow, intrigued but skeptical. "Tch. We'll see about that."
Marvin chuckled. "Alright, alright. Let's not start killing each other before we even get to the cursed forest."
Theodore shrugged, heading toward his bed. "Let's sleep," he said coolly. "We have a long day tomorrow."
Cai scoffed, amused by the prince's arrogance, while Marvin watched Theodore with a glimmer of curiosity—perhaps even pity.
Theodore didn't care.
"Marvin will be easy to manipulate."
"Cai will need a show of strength."
Either way, soon they'd both learn the truth.
Prince Theodore wasn't a child to be underestimated.