Ace awoke to the muted predawn light filtering through the small, unadorned window of Room 393. The air was cool, carrying the faint, earthy scent of damp stone. This was it, the first full day of his new life at the Academy, a fresh start. A chance, perhaps, to truly achieve something great, to carve his own path.
I want to practice my unique power, he thought, the idea igniting a spark of excitement within him. He could feel the subtle hum of his cells, a silent testament to the extraordinary ability that lay dormant, waiting to be fully unleashed. But the thing is, it's my trump card. Gotta keep it hidden for big things. The Academy, with its gleaming façade, was a viper's nest of inherited power and political machinations. Revealing his true gift prematurely would be an act of folly.
He lay there for a while, turning possibilities over in his mind. The manor had offered him solitude, but here, every corner felt observed. Then, an idea, both absurd and practical, began to form. Maybe my training ground will be my bathroom, he mused, a small, wry smile touching his lips. Man, that sounds kinda wrong, but anyway, I'll start from tonight. The privacy, however limited, would be invaluable.
With a newfound purpose, he slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Theron, who was still asleep, a study in motionless discipline. Ace went to the washroom, splashed cold water on his face, and then quickly got ready. He grabbed the light breakfast he'd brought yesterday – some dried fruit and a piece of hard bread – and ate it quickly.
As he headed out for his first class of the day, a thought struck him. Yesterday was practical training, today will be introduction. He frowned slightly. That's kinda backwards, shouldn't introduction class be first? He shrugged. The Academy clearly operated on its own logic.
On his way, he spotted Klaus, his head already buried in a book as he walked. Ace fell into step beside him.
"Morning, Klaus," Ace greeted, nudging him lightly.
Klaus startled, looking up with wide, slightly unfocused eyes. "Oh! Ace. Morning. Lost in the wonders of root systems, I was." He gestured to his herbalism book.
"Naturally," Ace drawled. "Unlike us, forced to engage with the mundane realities of attendance. Ready for another thrilling lecture?"
They walked together, their easy banter a small comfort amidst the stream of more formal-looking students. They reached their classroom, a large, tiered lecture hall. They found seats in the back, a familiar comfort zone.
A few moments later, the Professor entered. He was a tall, gaunt man with sharp, almost hawklike features and eyes like chips of ice. His robes were a stark, unadorned grey, a stark contrast to Professor Thorne's deep ocean hues. He introduced himself as Professor Ather Ratais, and his gaze, as it swept over the room, was indeed cold, missing nothing.
"As you all know," Professor Ratais began, his voice devoid of warmth, yet resonating with undeniable authority, "the Academy offers a five-year program that prepares rare talents and polishes students for the sake of the Kingdom. You are here because you possess a spark, a potential that, with rigorous discipline, can be forged into something useful."
He paused, letting his words sink in. "And you already know the system of this world. In our realm, we operate on a two-layered power system. First, there are Unique Powers. These are innate gifts, bestowed upon us from birth. Every individual possesses a distinct power, though based on bloodline, there can be certain similarities. High nobles and royals, for instance, typically manifest inherently more potent and refined unique arcane gifts than many common-born individuals. Some might possess the ability to command the winds to fill sails, while others, perhaps less fortunate, might only manage a slightly higher jump." His gaze seemed to linger for a moment on the wealthier students in the front rows, an almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgment.
"Secondly," he continued, "we have Arcane Powers. All sentient beings in this world possess a connection to the fundamental arcane energies. These manifest in various elemental types. Fire, Water, Air, Lightning, Ice, and Earth are considered the common elements. Most individuals exhibit affinity for two, but some uncommon or rare talents may possess three. Very rarely, one can have an affinity for all common elements. Beyond these, there exist exceedingly rare elements, possessed by only a select few, such as 'Anti-matter'."
Ace felt a jolt of genuine interest. Anti-matter? That was a concept beyond anything he'd encountered in his family's modest library. His own elemental affinities, Fire, Air, and Lightning, while strong, felt almost pedestrian compared to such exotic possibilities.
"We can fuse two or more elements together for greater power," Professor Ratais explained, "but that requires intense training and unwavering focus. I hope you all strive for such mastery. Some among you may become the very pillars that support our world, or perhaps the Kingdom itself. Others may serve as the vital cement, binding those pillars together. And some… some will simply be the insects, destined to be crushed beneath the weight of progress."
A chill ran down Ace's spine, a stark reminder of the unforgiving reality outside the Academy's gilded walls. He glanced around. Most of the high nobles, having benefited from private tutors since childhood, already knew most of this information. Their attention had already drifted, their whispers revolving around the usual topics of politics, power dynamics, and the latest gossip about who inherited how much silver from whom. Their self-assured nonchalance was almost as irritating as Lysander Valerius's open disdain.
Professor Ratais, seemingly oblivious or perhaps simply unconcerned by their inattention, delved into further details on the properties and practical usages of various elements. Ace, however, listened intently, his Intelligence (S) absorbing every nuance, every potential strategy. He might not have been born with the silver spoon of ducal power, but he had a mind that could analyze, adapt, and strategize.
At the very end of the class, just as the students were mentally checking out, Professor Ratais delivered another pronouncement. "Every year, we hold a First-Year Tournament. This tradition allows us to identify the strongest and most useful talents among the new intake. It is a crucible designed to test your mettle and reveal your true potential." He paused, his cold gaze sweeping over the room once more. "One and a half months from now, the tournament will commence. Applications are open to all first-years. We, the faculty, will be the sole judges of worth."
With that, the Professor turned and left the hall, his robes swishing softly. The moment the door clicked shut behind him, the low murmur that had persisted throughout the lecture erupted into a cacophony of excited chatter. The tournament. It was a clear, undeniable path to recognition, a chance to prove oneself beyond the confines of inherited status. Ace felt a familiar surge of resolve. This was it. This was his opportunity.
Ace Dragnell - Current Status
* Name: Ace Dragnell
* Noble Status: Low-Tier Noble
* Age: 16 (First Year Student)
* Strength: D
* Agility: D
* Endurance: C
* Intelligence: S
* Willpower: A
* Charisma: D
* Arcane Power: C
* Abilities:
* Unique Ability: Molecular Disassembly & Regeneration (Untrained - some basic control achieved)
* Description: The innate power to disassemble one's body to a molecular or even atomic level and reassemble it at will. Can regenerate from a single cell or atom. Can reassemble specific body parts, which will possess the same inherent power as the main body. This ability is currently raw and unrefined, its full potential unknown even to Ace, but he has begun to exercise rudimentary control over it.
* Elemental Affinities: Fire, Air, Lighting
* Skills:
* Basic Self-Defense (C)
* Survival (Wilderness - from his manor's remote location) (D)
* Weapon forging (B-)
* Reputation: Unknown / Low-Tier Noble (among students)
* Silver Crowns: 300
* Dorm Room: 393