The academy grounds shimmered beneath the morning sun, dew glistening on the grass like tiny crystals. Sam stood alone at the edge of the training field, his breathing calm, his stance firm. The golden flame burned steadily on his palm — not wild or unstable as before, but controlled, obedient to his will.
Every day since his talk with Professor Irius, Sam had followed a strict routine — lectures, combat practice, meditation, and late-night study. But no matter how disciplined his days became, there was always one constant presence nearby.
Lucy.
At first, she had only come to watch. Sitting under the shade of the cherrywood trees, she would quietly observe Sam's practice, her expression unreadable. But soon, watching turned to conversation, and conversation to laughter — a sound Sam hadn't realized he missed until then.
"You really don't rest, do you?" Lucy teased one afternoon as Sam wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Even the instructors take breaks."
Sam gave a faint smile. "Breaks don't make you stronger."
Lucy crossed her arms with mock indignation. "Says the boy who almost collapsed last week from exhaustion."
"That was different," Sam said quickly, trying to hide the faint color rising in his cheeks.
"Oh really?" she said, leaning closer. "Then maybe I should ask Father to assign someone to make sure you actually eat and sleep."
Sam sighed in defeat, though his lips curved into a reluctant grin. "You sound like Lisa…"
"Lisa?"
"My… sister," Sam said softly. "She always scolded me the same way."
Lucy's expression softened. "She must care about you a lot."
"She does," Sam murmured. "She's the only family I have."
For a moment, silence settled between them, but it wasn't awkward — it was calm, almost comforting. The wind carried the faint scent of blooming roses from the academy garden, and the golden flame in Sam's hand flickered gently, reflecting in Lucy's eyes.
Over the next few weeks, Lucy began training alongside Sam. Though her divine energy had not fully recovered, her swordsmanship and control over light magic were unmatched. Together, they sparred daily, exchanging techniques and insights.
"Your stance is too rigid," Lucy said one morning, circling him during a sparring session. "Flow with the attack, don't fight against it."
Sam nodded and tried again, mimicking her movements. His body moved more fluidly this time, his shadow magic blending subtly with the golden flame — just enough to strengthen his strikes without drawing suspicion.
Lucy parried effortlessly, her blade humming with divine light. "Better," she said with a smile. "But you're still holding back."
Sam exhaled slowly. "Maybe I am."
"Why?" she asked.
He hesitated. "Because sometimes… when I stop holding back, people get hurt."
Lucy lowered her sword, her expression softening. "Then maybe you just haven't met the right reason to go all out yet."
Her words lingered in his mind long after their duel ended.
As days turned into weeks, their friendship deepened. Lucy began showing Sam around the city during weekends — the quiet bookstores filled with ancient scrolls, the glowing lantern markets by the riverside, and the music halls where traveling mages performed songs of old heroes.
Sam was fascinated by it all, but more than anything, he found peace in Lucy's presence. She carried herself with grace, yet there was a quiet sadness in her eyes — the weight of someone who had seen too much pain but still chose to smile.
One evening, as the two sat by the academy fountain under a sky painted with stars, Lucy turned to him and said, "You know, Sam… ever since that day you saved me, I've been having strange dreams."
"What kind of dreams?"
"Flashes," she said softly. "Of a boy surrounded by shadows and light — standing alone in a field of fire." She paused, her voice barely above a whisper. "When I wake, I always feel… safe. Like that boy is protecting me."
Sam's chest tightened. He didn't know what to say. He looked down at the reflection of the moon rippling in the water, his golden flame flickering faintly at his fingertips.
"Maybe it's just your mind healing," he said quietly.
"Maybe," she replied, though her tone carried uncertainty. Then, after a pause, she added, "Whatever it is… I'm glad you're here, Sam."
Sam looked up, meeting her eyes. For the first time in a long while, the darkness inside him felt quiet.
Later that night, when Lucy had returned to her dorm, Sam stood alone at the fountain. He clenched his hand, summoning the golden flame once more — it glowed brightly, but beneath it, the faint shimmer of shadow pulsed like a heartbeat.
Light to hide the dark, he reminded himself again. But as he gazed at the moonlit water, he couldn't help but wonder… how long can I keep it hidden?
Above him, unseen from the tower balcony, Professor Irius and Duke Arvane watched in silence."His control is improving," Irius said.
Arvane nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing. "Yes… and so is his bond with Lucy."
"Is that what you wanted?"
Arvane didn't answer immediately. His gaze lingered on the boy below, the flame reflecting in his eyes.
"Perhaps," he said at last. "Or perhaps I just want to see if light and shadow can truly coexist."
The morning sun spilled golden light across the academy plaza, where banners fluttered high in the crisp autumn breeze. It was the day every student had been waiting for — the Academy President Selection, an event that shaped not only the future of the students but also the influence of each noble and royal family within Lavatorian's walls.
The grand auditorium was alive with chatter and excitement. Students filled the seats, each group cheering for their favored candidate. The air buzzed with energy, ambition, and rivalry.
Sam stood among the crowd, watching the stage where representatives presented their ideas. His heart raced — not from nerves, but from curiosity. So this is how power works in this world… through voice, not just strength.
He noticed Lucy near the front row, standing confidently with her presentation scrolls in hand. Her expression was calm, yet focused. Today, she wasn't the Duke's daughter — she was a leader. Sam couldn't help but feel a quiet pride seeing how far she had come since the day he first met her.
Beside Lucy stood the royal siblings — Princess Lyra and Prince Ren. The aura around them radiated elegance and power, drawing every eye in the hall. But even they seemed cautious, their gazes flickering toward another figure across the stage.
Alana Rainheart.
She moved with calculated grace, her silver-blue hair flowing like silk, her eyes sharp and cold as winter frost. Dressed in an outfit embroidered with the crest of the Rainheart family, she carried herself like someone who already believed she'd won.
Alana was not only beautiful but also cunning her words had weight, and her influence stretched far beyond the academy walls. Her family's wealth could sway votes, fund campaigns, and silence opposition with ease.
Lucy whispered something to Lyra, who frowned slightly. Even the princess knew that Alana was not a rival to be taken lightly.
Sam watched from afar, intrigued. "So she's the one everyone fears," he murmured to himself.
As the presentations continued, several students — mostly nobles — spoke of expansion, prestige, and strengthening the academy's ties to the empire. Yet amid all the polished speeches and empty promises, one small group caught Sam's attention.
They were seated quietly in the back rows — commoners, dressed in simple robes, their faces full of determination. Unlike the others, they didn't have banners, sponsors, or support from elite houses. But their eyes… their eyes burned with conviction.
When the speeches ended, Sam stepped outside for air. That's when he heard hurried footsteps behind him.
"Wait! You're Sam, right? The one who saved the Duke's carriage?"
He turned to see three students — two boys and a girl — catching their breath. They looked nervous but hopeful.
"Yes," Sam replied cautiously. "Do I know you?"
The taller boy shook his head. "No, but we know about you. We've been trying to form a group — a movement for equality between nobles and commoners. But we lack a leader… someone the others will follow."
Sam blinked, surprised. "Me? Why me?"
The girl stepped forward. "Because you're not afraid of standing up for what's right. You've faced nobles and still earned their respect. You helped Lady Lucy, and you never looked down on us."
Her words carried sincerity that even Sam couldn't dismiss easily.
The shorter boy added, "If you stand with us, others will too. We can finally have a voice. We might even stand a chance against Alana
Rainheart."
Sam looked at their faces — filled with hope despite the impossible odds. He felt something stir inside him, something that reminded him of the village he left behind, of Lisa's kindness, of the people who never had power but never gave up either.
Still, doubt lingered in his mind. "You really think I can lead you?" he asked quietly.
The taller boy smiled. "No. We know you
can."
Sam was silent for a moment. He looked back toward the grand auditorium, where nobles and royals argued over politics and pride. And then he turned back to the three commoners.
"Alright," he said finally, a determined spark lighting his eyes. "I'll do it. If no one else will fight for you… then I will."
The group exchanged hopeful smiles. For the first time, the commoners of Lavatorian had found someone willing to stand at their side.
But as they left together, Sam felt a faint chill in the air — a presence watching from above. Alana Rainheart, standing on the balcony, her cold gaze fixed on him.
"So," she murmured, her voice like silk laced with venom. "The commoner thinks he can stand against me…"
She turned away, a faint smirk curling on her lips. "Let's see how long he lasts.
To be continued…