The gates of Eldryn Academy towered over the throng of students gathered for orientation, their crystalline peaks glowing faintly in the early morning light. Orin adjusted the strap of his bag, his eyes fixed on the polished stone pathway ahead. Around him, clusters of first-years murmured excitedly, their voices a mixture of anticipation and nervousness.
He kept his gaze low, one hand brushing against the F-Rank badge pinned to his chest. It felt like a brand—a reminder of where he stood in the grand scheme of things.
"This place already feels overwhelming," he muttered to himself.
The academy grounds were vast, with towering spires that shimmered with runes of protection and buildings of marble and silver. At the heart of it all stood the Grand Hall, its massive double doors carved with intricate depictions of past heroes and legendary battles. Orin wasn't here to be a hero, though. He just wanted to survive.
The chime of a bell echoed across the grounds, silencing the hum of conversations. A figure in crimson robes stepped forward onto the raised platform in front of the Grand Hall, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd.
---
Varrick Astoran, the academy's headmaster, commanded attention without saying a word. His silver hair was tied back neatly, and the crimson sigil of the academy glowed faintly on his chest. When he finally spoke, his voice boomed across the courtyard.
"Welcome, first-years, to Eldryn Academy," he began. "You stand at the threshold of greatness. But let me remind you: greatness is not given—it is earned. Only those with strength, willpower, and intelligence will rise to the top. The rest…" He paused, his eyes narrowing. "…will remain where they belong."
Orin felt the weight of those words settle in his chest, and he glanced at the students around him. Many stood straighter, their eyes gleaming with determination, but others—like himself—shifted uncomfortably.
---
The headmaster's gaze swept over the crowd. "This year, we are honored to welcome students from some of the most renowned households and guilds in the kingdom," he continued. "Let me introduce those who have already begun to distinguish themselves."
Whispers erupted as a group of students stepped forward, led by a figure who seemed to radiate confidence.
"Reynard Caine, heir to House Caine," Varrick announced, his tone filled with reverence.
The crowd grew silent as Reynard strode onto the platform. His golden eyes scanned the students below with a calm intensity, and his E+ Rank badge caught the light, drawing gasps from those who noticed it.
"House Caine," someone whispered near Orin. "They've trained the kingdom's greatest swordmasters for generations."
Orin clenched his fists, a pang of envy twisting in his chest. Even here, Reynard stood apart, his presence almost larger than life.
Behind Reynard followed a line of equally striking figures.
"Amara Veyl, daughter of the Silverlight Guildmaster," Varrick announced. The silver-haired girl moved with quiet elegance, her E Rank badge gleaming on her uniform. Whispers of her guild's mastery of battle magic rippled through the crowd.
"Darius Greystone, eldest son of the Greystone Clan." The towering figure with a greatsword strapped to his back exuded raw power. His E Rank badge was scratched at the edges, as though it had already seen countless battles.
"Selene Arkwright, scion of House Arkwright." The black-haired mage strode forward, her delicate features hiding the sharp intelligence behind her amber eyes. A faint shimmer of mana flickered around her hands, betraying her prodigious magical ability.
"Luther Vael, envoy of the Black Thorn Syndicate." The crowd's murmurs turned uneasy as the shadowy figure joined the others. His dark robes and piercing green eyes made him seem out of place among the noble heirs, but his quiet confidence suggested he belonged here just as much as they did.
More names followed.
"Cassandra Aelmire, heiress to House Aelmire." A girl with flowing blonde hair and a dazzling smile stepped forward, her E- Rank badge pinned to a finely tailored uniform.
"Kaiden Falken, Ironclad Guild's rising star." A broad-shouldered young man with a shield slung across his back joined the group, his movements calm and deliberate.
"Nerissa Vayne, chosen priestess of the Temple of Lumina." A soft-spoken girl with flowing white robes bowed her head, her E- Rank badge glowing faintly as she walked.
"And finally, Theron Blackmoor, heir to House Blackmoor." The last figure stepped forward, drawing gasps and murmurs. The tall, pale boy with sharp features and dark robes seemed to carry an aura of menace. The Blackmoor family's reputation for shadow magic hung heavily over him, but his expression remained unreadable.
---
Orin watched them from the back of the crowd, his fists tightening at his sides.
"So, this is the hero's group," he muttered bitterly. The strongest and most influential students, all gathered in one place.
The headmaster gestured to the group. "These students exemplify the qualities we seek to foster at Eldryn Academy. Strength, intellect, and ambition. Learn from them—and strive to match their example."
The applause that followed was deafening, but Orin couldn't bring himself to join in.
---
After the ceremony, the students were split into groups and sent to their dormitories. Orin found himself placed in one of the farthest dorms, nestled near the outer wall of the academy grounds. His single window overlooked the distant spires where Reynard and his companions would stay—a constant reminder of the gap between them.
As Orin dropped his bag onto the simple bed, he clenched his fists.
"They're playing their story," he muttered. "And I'm just here to fill the background."
But even as the words left his mouth, a spark of defiance flared within him.
"Fine," he said quietly. "I'll survive. I don't need to be a hero to do that."