"The moment you gaze into the abyss, it gazes back. But what if the abyss finds you familiar?"
---
The grand chamber of Velmira Academy lay in eerie silence. The Trial of Awakening, a sacred rite designed to unveil the essence of one's soul, had just collapsed—an event that should have been impossible.
But impossibility was merely a cage built by those who feared the unknown.
Aedric Valtherion stood at the center of the shattered runic circle, his presence an anomaly, a contradiction to the very laws of this world.
Eyes bore into him from every direction—some filled with awe, others with wariness, and a few with something far more dangerous: fear.
---
The Weight of an Unnamed Fate
"What… just happened?"
Murmurs rippled through the hall. Professors exchanged wary glances, their fingers twitching toward enchanted rings and concealed spell scrolls. Students whispered behind raised hands, their gazes flickering between the fractured circle and the young man who stood at its center.
Aedric exhaled slowly, a calculated breath to steady the storm within him. The Trial had reacted to him—not as a mere participant, but as something entirely other.
"This has never happened before."
"Is he cursed?"
"No… he's something else."
The Headmaster's voice cut through the murmurs like a blade.
"Enough."
Lucian Ebonhart stepped forward, his robes shifting with an unseen force. His eyes, sharp as the edge of reality itself, bore into Aedric with an intensity that could sunder mountains.
"Tell me, Aedric Valtherion…"
He paused.
"What are you?"
Aedric met his gaze without hesitation. He could lie. He could feign ignorance. But neither would serve him.
So instead, he smirked.
"A student of this Academy, of course."
The tension in the air thickened, but the Headmaster's lips curled ever so slightly—a glimpse of something between amusement and intrigue.
"Very well," Lucian murmured. "Then let us see if your words match your worth."
---
Trial of the Sword: The First Challenge
The Awakening had been only the first step.
To remain in Velmira Academy, every initiate had to undergo the Trial of the Sword—a duel to determine their standing, their potential, their right to exist among the chosen.
"Choose your opponent," a voice announced.
Aedric turned, scanning the sea of faces. He needed information—about this world, about himself, about what lay ahead. And there was no better way to learn than through battle.
Then, he saw him.
A figure stepped forward, his presence demanding attention.
Kael Draven.
A noble's son. A prodigy of swordsmanship. A boy whose pride was as sharp as his blade.
"I challenge you, Valtherion." His voice was laced with something between arrogance and curiosity.
Aedric tilted his head. Interesting.
"Accepted."
---
The Dance of Blades
The training grounds roared to life, students and instructors gathering in droves as the duel was set.
Two figures stood in the circle, swords drawn, magic humming in the air.
Kael's weapon gleamed under the twilight—a finely forged longsword, its edge carrying the weight of years of discipline.
Aedric, however, wielded no such weapon. He held the Academy's standard-issue training blade—a thing of crude iron, meant for novices.
A murmur ran through the crowd.
"He's unarmed, compared to Kael."
"Is he arrogant or just ignorant?"
Kael smirked. "Do you need a better weapon?"
Aedric twirled the blade between his fingers, testing its weight.
"A weapon is only as strong as the one who wields it."
Kael's smirk faded. Then, without warning, he moved.
A lunge. Precise. Deadly. His blade sliced through the air, aiming straight for Aedric's heart.
But Aedric was no mere initiate.
The moment Kael's sword neared him, Aedric shifted. Not with haste, not with panic—but with calculated grace. His body moved like a shadow slipping through light, his blade intercepting Kael's strike with eerie ease.
Clang!
The clash of steel rang through the air.
Kael's eyes widened. What?
Aedric did not counter. He did not push back. He simply redirected. Kael's momentum betrayed him, his own force turning against him, sending him stumbling a step back.
The crowd gasped.
"That movement—"
"It's not normal."
Kael recovered, his grip tightening.
"Who trained you?"
Aedric's expression remained unreadable.
"No one in this world."
---
The Breaking Point
Kael charged again, but this time, there was a difference. His aura flared—a golden energy pulsing around him. A spell-enhanced strike, one meant to break lesser opponents.
The air crackled. The ground trembled.
Aedric did not move.
He waited.
And then, at the last possible moment—
He stepped inside Kael's attack.
A twist of the wrist. A shift in weight.
And in the blink of an eye—Kael's own sword was turned against him.
His blade was wrenched from his grasp, sent spiraling through the air. He staggered, breathless, staring at his empty hands.
Aedric's sword was already at his throat.
Silence.
Then—applause.
A roar of voices.
"Impossible!"
"He disarmed him with a single movement!"
Kael stared, stunned, before letting out a breathless chuckle.
"You're a monster."
Aedric tilted his head. "Perhaps."
---
A Name That Echoes Beyond Time
The duel was over. The verdict was clear.
Aedric Valtherion was no ordinary student.
The Headmaster watched from the shadows, an unreadable expression on his face.
"The boy does not belong to this world… and yet, he is shaping it."
He turned, disappearing into the corridors of the Academy.
For better or worse, fate had set its course.
And in the heart of Velmira, a legend had begun to stir.
---