I saw the sprawling medieval school stretching endlessly toward the horizon. Towering walls surrounded the academy like a fortress, separating it from the dangers of the outside world. Students in brightly colored uniforms moved like streams of water between grand houses where classes were held, their voices blending into a steady hum of life.
At the entrance stood a massive wooden gate, its intricate carvings telling stories of past battles. It creaked open slowly, revealing an awe-inspiring view of the academy grounds.
Standing at the entrance, two figures awaited us. One was an older man with flowing white hair and a black robe—a symbol of his authority as headmaster. Beside him was a towering figure with a muscular frame, his presence radiating power. A katana rested on his side, its sheath catching the sunlight, and his short, jet-black hair barely grazed his sharp eyes.
My father strode forward, shaking the headmaster's hand with gratitude and respect. Though he said little, I could tell he was securing some favor—one I hadn't earned.
The man beside the headmaster stepped toward me, his sharp gaze appraising me like a blade testing for flaws. "I will be your instructor," he said, his voice steady and commanding. "My name is "Skav. I am an awakened swordsman."
As my father had taught me, I bowed low and replied, "I greatly appreciate it, Sir Skav."
"Raise your head, he instructed," his tone softening slightly. "There's no need for formalities, Kent."
As we began a tour of the academy, Skav spoke with precision, pointing out the purpose of each grand building we passed and highlighting the ones I would frequent the most. The headmaster chimed in occasionally, though his attention often flicked to the students passing by.
And they noticed us, too.
Everywhere we went, heads turned. Eyes widened. Whispers followed in our wake, thinly veiled by cupped hands and sidelong glances. Their expressions weren't subtle; curiosity and something else I couldn't understand.
It had been years since I'd been around anyone other than my father, much less people my age. The sheer number of them was overwhelming.
Still, the weight of their stares was nothing compared to the thought that lingered: how rare must this be? A headmaster, an awakened instructor, and my father—once a Giant—all accompanying a single student.
Reaching the dormitories, my father turned to me, his usual stern expression softening. He pulled me into a firm embrace and said, "Take care, and remember—don't get into fights unless they're mandatory."
"Right, Father," I replied, pausing before adding with a wry smile, "but I can't promise I won't defend myself if provoked."
He frowned but let it pass, releasing me with a brief nod before walking away. I watched him go, his towering figure disappearing into the crowd. A strange emptiness settled in my chest, but I pushed it aside. I had new challenges to face.
Entering the dormitory, I noticed a young woman with vibrant blue hair at the reception desk, deeply engrossed in a large red book. The shimmering hue of her hair hinted at a magical core—likely tied to her powers.
Approaching her desk cautiously, I said, "Excuse me. My name is Kent. I believe there's a room registered under my name. Could you direct me to it?"
She jumped slightly, her wide eyes locking onto mine. "Oh! You startled me," she said, recovering quickly. "Hi, I'm Astrid. It's my third year here. You must be new—most students were sorted weeks ago."
"Yes," I replied. "I only just arrived due to travel delays."
Astrid nodded, her gaze lingering. "Your room is 30345," she said, pointing toward the staircase. "By the way, your footsteps are... unnervingly quiet. Are you a ninja or something?"
I blinked, caught off guard by the question. "No," I said with a faint smile. "I just grew up in the mountains. I guess I've learned to tread lightly."
As I ascended the staircase, I felt her gaze lingering on me, her curiosity unspoken but palpable. The stairwell was dimly lit by magical torches that flickered in the shadows, their ethereal glow casting strange patterns on the walls.
When I reached my room, I pushed the door open to find a surprisingly spacious interior. A large wooden desk stood at the center, scattered with books similar to what Astrid had been reading. Atop them rested a sealed note. To the left of the entrance was a master bed with ornate wooden borders and a small bedside table with a lamp sitting atop it.
Exhausted, I didn't bother with the note or the books. Instead, I collapsed onto the bed, letting out a deep sigh. My thoughts swirled, trying to process the whirlwind of events.
Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my skull. It began as a dull throb but escalated rapidly, each pulse louder and more unbearable. My core vibrated violently, its energy rippling through me. The room spun, vertigo consuming me as I rolled off the bed, hitting the ground with a dull thud. Darkness enveloped me.
When I opened my eyes, I was falling—plummeting endlessly through a void as dark as the night sky. There was no ground, no horizon, only an infinite abyss. Time lost meaning. Seconds stretched into eternities.
Desperate for stability, I clung to a memory—the warmest one I could recall. My mother and I, playing in the sun-drenched grass outside our old home. The softness of her laughter, the gentle sway of the breeze. The memory consumed me, vivid and alive.
The void began to shift. The blackness gave way to light, and I found myself resting on the same grass, the warmth of the sun kissing my skin.
When I opened my eyes again, I was no longer falling.