The rain was replaced by the sun now which beat Eryndor relentlessly, his small travel pack feeling heavy with the precious weight of his grandfather's ancient books, trudged back towards the Imperial Capital. The journey home had been a blur of grief and exhaustion, a raw wound in his heart. Now, the return trip was filled with a grim purpose. He was going back to the Academy, not just as a summoned candidate, but as a student carrying the legacy of a man who had believed in him more than anyone.
He passed the familiar obsidian pillars, no longer seeing them as gates to the unknown, but as a witnesses to his return. The Academy dorms felt less like a temporary shelter and more like a permanent, now somewhat cold home. He found his way to his room pushing open the door.
"Eryndor! You're back! And just in time!" Finn exclaimed, already half-unpacked, his cot covered in a chaotic spread of scrolls and diagrams. "I was starting to think you'd gotten cold feet and gone back to the farm life."
A faint smile touched Eryndor lips. "I wish. My grandfather… he passed away, Finn. The Red Blight."
Finn's full energy immediately decreased. His eyes widened, and he came over, putting a sympathetic hand on Eryndor shoulder. "Oh, Eryndor, I'm so sorry. That's… that's terrible. I really am sorry, and about that red blight is that real, I thought it was only in these fantasy novels." His usual jokes forgotten, but is lively behavior and questioning still active.
"Thank you, and I don't really know about the red blight, and now am a complete orphan, I have nobody now and Argentum is now my home," Eryndor said softly, placing his pack on the floor. "I came back to collect these." He gestured to the pack. "Grandfather's books. Silas said they might have things the Academy doesn't."
Finn's eyes lit up, the tragedy momentarily forgotten in the face of academic curiosity. "Ancient texts? That's amazing! We'll read them tonight." He clapped Eryndor on the back again. "But for now, get settled. Our first class starts in fifteen minutes. They've just posted the schedule for Class D."
Eryndor hurried to his assigned classroom for Class D, a smaller room than the vast halls Eryndor had seen before. The other students in Class D were already there, a mix of quiet scholars, those with peculiar magical quirks, and a few like Eryndor but unlike him they still have magic.
A new Proctor, a petite woman with a unimpressed expression, stood at the front. Her name, she announced, was Raiden Burnham.
"Welcome, Class D," she began, her voice dry and devoid of warmth. "Your assigned as 'Unconventional Aptitude' means you have demonstrated something… unsuitable. So I am going to be instructing you everything about magic but first let's know the rules of my class.
She rattled off a list of stern regulations: attendance, decorum, prohibition of unsanctioned magical practice Eryndor almost smirked, as if he could), and strict disciplinary measures for any infraction.
"Your practical magic classes will commence in the next section," she stated, "once we have properly assessed your unique… capacities. For now, we will focus on foundational theory and the ethical applications of the arcane arts." She cast a pointed, almost disdainful glance at Eryndor, as if his very presence was an ethical dilemma.
As the class settled into the dry lecture, Eryndor felt a familiar shove from behind. He stumbled, catching himself before he fell. He turned to see Darius, flanked by his two usual guys. Darius was not in Class D, which meant he had deliberately sought Eryndor out.
"Well, well, if it isn't the Class D reject," Darius sneered, his voice a low sneer designed to be just loud enough for those around to hear. "Still clinging to hope, farm boy? Thought you'd be back to shoveling manure by now."
"I passed the trials, Darius," Eryndor said, trying to keep his voice even, ignoring the growing tension in the room.
"Passed?" Darius scoffed, a flicker of dark mana radiating from his palm. "You think scrawling with a stick and standing still counts as passing? You're a stain on this Academy, commoner. A waste of space that should have been filled by someone with real power."
He pushed Eryndor harder this time, a sudden burst of focused magical force. Eryndor staggered back, hitting a desk with a painful thump. His arm twisted awkwardly, and a sharp pain shot through his elbow. He cried out softly, clutching his injured arm.
"What was that, peasant? Did you just squeak?" Darius laughed, his cronies joining in. "Don't worry, a little pain builds character. Something you clearly lack, along with magic." He raised his hand again, a more pain, began to… recede. It was subtle at first, then unmistakable. The injury was healing, rapidly. His skin smoothed, the redness faded, the twisted sensation in his elbow vanished. His body was repairing itself.
His eyes widened in shock. He glanced at his arm, then at Darius, who looked momentarily confused. Had he seen it?
Before Eryndor could react, a dazzling, bizarre light erupted from the pendant that swing on his neck. The light shot across the room, not directly at Eryndor, but around him, engulfing him, It deepened, forming an almost solid, glowing tunnel that seemed to plunge directly into his chest.
Eryndor gasped, a soft, strangled scream escaping his lips. It wasn't pain, not truly, but an overwhelming, violating sensation of something vast and alien entering his very being. His body convulsed. Red veins, like glowing rivers of fire, suddenly flared across his face, his neck, and his arms, visible even through his clothes. His eyes rolled back in his head. The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was Darius, his sneer replaced by a look of utter, horrified shock, and Julianne, her face pale.
"What is happening, is this your doing Darius?" Julianne voice cold and sharp as she stared at Darius angrily that he was bullying one's that were not as powerful as him, but she heard no response from him instead he just left.
Eryndor fell to the floor, unconscious.
When Eryndor next opened his eyes, he was not in the classroom. He was lying on something soft, but the surroundings were not his dorm room. The air was cool, sterile. He sat up with a gasp, his heart pounding. There was no pain, no lingering ache from Darius's push, no sign of the strange red veins.
A voice popped in his head saying.
[Welcome, Host. The Arcane Engine System has been successfully integrated.]
[Detection of Host's unique aptitude for Will-based energy manipulation, coupled with extreme mana-nullification and rapid self-restoration, has prompted system activation.]
[System Core Function: Complete quess any incomplete quest or failed ones would lead to decrease in your levels and your physical abilities which are your strength, stamina, exp and HP, the skills you've acquired will always remain permanent or disappear from your acquired skill]
[LEVEL 1]
[HP 100/100]
[EXP 0/100]
[STRENGTH 10/100]
[SKILLS: 0]
[STAMINA: 10]
[Primary Objective: Unlock the secrets and unknown powers of the Arcane Engine]
[Would you like to accept the Arcane Engine System? (Y/N)]
The feminine arcane AI said. A blue screen hovering on the air in front of him with his pupils dilated, with the content on the screen scrolling itself down.
"I'm I a robot?" Eryndor stared at the screen, his mind reeling. Arcane Engine System? Mana-nullification? Self-restoration? Level up? Unlock secrets and unknown powers? The light from his grandfather pendant. The healing. Darius. His grandfather. The Red Blight. It all swirled into a chaotic shade of confusion and revelation. He felt a deep, resonant hum within his very core, a sensation he'd never known before, a unknown power that felt both alien and strangely, profoundly his own.
He looked at the glowing (Y/N) prompt, his gaze unwavering. He had no magic. He had been laughed at for it. But now… now, something new, something different, had chosen him. A unknown path laid before him, full of danger, but also immense, unimaginable potential.
His grandfather's voice echoed in his mind: Never give up, my boy. He thought of the Red Blight. He thought of Darius's arrogance. With a firm, decisive nod, Eryndor reached out and, with a trembling finger, touched the shimmering "Y."