The Royal Magic Academy was no ordinary school. Towering spires reached toward the sky, their white stone gleaming in the morning sun. Flags bearing the crests of all eight kingdoms fluttered proudly on the battlements. Here, the future of the realm's magic was forged, shaped by rigorous training, political ambitions, and ancient traditions.
Kertia's first steps onto the sprawling academy grounds felt heavier than expected. The sickly boy, wrapped in a simple cloak, looked up at the grand entrance with a mixture of awe and determination. Around him, students gathered in groups — some laughing, others casting minor spells as demonstrations of skill.
He quickly noticed the difference. The nobles carried themselves with an air of superiority, dressed in fine robes embroidered with their family crests. Commoners like Tomas, though less adorned, still held their heads high. Kertia, however, was an enigma: frail and pale, yet with eyes that seemed to burn with a hidden fire.
Inside the grand hall, the Principal of the Academy stood by a towering lectern. A wise, aged woman with silver hair and penetrating eyes, she surveyed the new students.
"Welcome, young magicians," she began, her voice both commanding and kind. "You stand on the threshold of greatness, but greatness is earned, not given. Here, your strength, your heart, and your spirit will be tested."
Her gaze paused momentarily on Kertia. A flicker of recognition passed through her eyes, but she said nothing more.
Classes began immediately. The first was "Basic Elemental Control," a foundational course where students learned to conjure flames, create gusts of wind, or mold water droplets.
Kertia struggled to lift even the smallest flame. His body, weak and trembling, resisted the intense concentration required. Nearby, the noble boy named Alric smirked.
"Look at the sickly little boy trying to play with fire," Alric whispered to his friends. "Maybe he should stick to dying in bed."
The taunts stung, but Kertia remained silent. He clenched his fists and forced his will.
Arielle, seated across the room, caught his eye. She nodded once — a quiet gesture of encouragement.
Later that day, Kertia found refuge in the Academy's ancient library. Dusty tomes lined endless shelves, their pages whispering secrets of lost magic and forgotten gods.
Here, he discovered scrolls about necromancy — the magic of bones and spirits. His heart quickened as he read about summoning undead guardians, commanding legions of skeletons, and bending death's power to one's will.
"It's forbidden magic," a voice startled him.
Turning, Kertia saw a slender boy with dark hair and gentle eyes. "I'm Tomas," he said softly. "I'm here to help, not judge."
Kertia nodded, grateful for the first friend he'd made at the academy.
Days passed, and Kertia began practicing in secret. In the quiet of the night, he reached out to the earth beneath his bedchamber. With trembling hands, he called forth a single bone — a fragile remnant from the academy's tomb beneath the school.
To his amazement, the bone shifted and reassembled into a tiny skeletal figure. It saluted him with bony fingers before dissolving into dust at his snap.
This was just the beginning.
Word soon spread about the boy who could command the dead, even if only in small measure. Some were fascinated, others feared him. Whispers of "the sickly necromancer" filled the hallways.
Alric's contempt grew. "This boy is a mockery," he said aloud in the dining hall. "Necromancy is dark magic. He's dangerous."
Arielle, now a trusted ally, stood beside Kertia. "Let him prove his worth," she said firmly. "Strength comes in many forms."
Despite his physical limitations, Kertia's determination shone brighter than any flame. Every day he pushed his fragile body further, mastering new spells, understanding the delicate balance between life and death.
Unbeknownst to him, his godly powers — dormant for centuries — were beginning to stir beneath his skin, awakening with every act of will.
The path ahead would be long and fraught with peril, but Kertia was ready to face it all.
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