Aerin woke to someone pounding on his door.
"Wake up! Come on, first day!
Kael's voice was way too chipper for whatever ungodly hour this was.
Aerin groaned and rolled over. The bed was soft—the softest thing he'd slept on in months—but every muscle in his body still ached from yesterday's trial.
"Go away," he muttered into the pillow.
The pounding got louder. "Not happening! You've got thirty minutes before classes start!"
"The door's locked."
"I'll break it down!"
Aerin believed him. He dragged himself from bed, and opened the door.
Kael stood there grinning, already dressed in the academy uniform—black pants, white shirt, dark blue jacket with the silver star crest on the shoulder. His messy red hair somehow looked even worse than yesterday.
"Morning! You look like death."
"Thanks."
"Seriously, did you sleep at all? Come on, I know where the baths are. You need one. Desperately."
---
The bathhouse in the Crown Dorms basement had actual hot water running from copper pipes. Real soap. Clean towels.
Aerin stood under the water and watched three months of accumulated grime wash away. The original Aerin's dirt. His blood. All of it spiraling down the drain.
When he emerged, Kael had somehow obtained breakfast—bread, cheese, some dried meat.
"Eat fast. Your first class is on the opposite side of campus. Master Thorne doesn't tolerate lateness. Apparently he once made a late student fight their own shadow for an hour."
"That sounds impossible."
"Everything about Umbra Occulta sounds impossible." Kael shoved bread at him. "Eat."
They ate quickly and headed out into the morning air.
The courtyards were full of students heading to classes. Some walked leisurely, laughing with friends. Others rushed past looking nervous.
Aerin kept his hand on the wrapped grimoire under his jacket. Sangreal was strapped to his back beneath the uniform. The heartbeat was quiet this morning. Patient.
"What's your first class?" Kael asked.
Aerin checked his schedule. "Blood Magic Fundamentals. Master Thorne."
"Of course. I've got Elemental Control. Learning not to explode ourselves, apparently." Kael paused at a fork in the path. "Meet for lunch? I know a good spot in the dining hall."
"Why are you doing this?"
"Doing what?"
"Being friendly. Everyone else avoids me."
Kael shrugged. "Because everyone else is boring. Plus you beat up Henrik, which makes you automatically cool in my book." He grinned. "And you look like you need a friend. See you at lunch!"
He jogged off toward the Elementium Ward building.
Aerin continued down the darker path toward Umbra Occulta.
---
The building looked abandoned from the outside. Cracked windows. Ivy crawling over stone. A faded sign: *Umbra Occulta - Authorized Personnel Only.*
Inside was a single large room. Dark stone walls, no windows. Torches in iron brackets provided the only light.
Master Thorne was standing in the center.
Four other students were already there—the same ones from yesterday's sorting. The pale girl with dark hair looked terrified. The boy with burn scars on his hands kept flexing his fingers nervously.
Aerin took his place in the circle.
Thorne's completely black eyes swept across them. "You came. Good. That means you're not cowards. Yet."
His voice was soft, gentle, and it made the threat worse.
"Blood Magic Fundamentals. I am Master Thorne. For the next year, I will teach you to use your magic without killing yourselves. Most of you will fail this class. Some of you will die trying."
The pale girl's hand shot up. "Sir, you said some of us will die?"
"Yes"
"Isn't that. against academy rules?"
"The academy has excellent healers. They can resurrect you from most deaths." Thorne smiled without warmth. "But not all. Questions?"
Nobody raised their hand.
"Blood magic requires sacrifice. Your blood. Your life. Your sanity." He began walking around the circle. "Today's lesson is simple: Learn your limits. Learn how much blood you can lose before you pass out. Learn how much pain you can endure."
He stopped in front of Aerin. Those black eyes bored into him.
"Aerin Arclight. You use blood magic, yes?"
"Yes, sir."
"Demonstrate. Without your weapon."
Aerin's hand moved to his grimoire. He unwrapped it slowly. The other students stared—they hadn't seen it yesterday. It looked plain. No decorations. No glow.
He opened the center page. The symbol pulsed, faintly red.
"Ten seconds," Thorne said.
Aerin pressed his thumb to the page. Blood welled up. The symbol flared.
But Sangreal did not appear.
Instead, the blood on his thumb began moving. Crawling across his skin like it was alive, coiling around his fingers.
Aerin stared. What—
"Five seconds."
The blood threads hardened slightly. Not solid, but stronger. Like wire. He moved his hand and they extended from his fingers like claws.
"Time."
The threads dissolved. Blood drops pattered onto the stone floor.
Thorne nodded. "Interesting. Your grimoire bonded you to a weapon, but your blood magic is separate. You can manipulate your own blood directly. Crude, but functional."
He addressed the class. "Blood magic has three forms. Sacrifice—using blood as fuel. Manipulation—controlling blood. Binding—forming contracts with blood. Arclight demonstrated basic Manipulation just now."
Thorne moved to the center. "Today you learn Sacrifice. The foundation of everything else."
He gestured. carvings of symbols etched into walls began to glow red.
"These wards will keep you alive. They won't stop pain. They won't stop injury. They'll just prevent death." His smile grew colder. "You will fight each other. Blood magic only. Last one standing passes today's lesson."
"But we don't know how—" the pale girl began.
"Then learn quickly."
The light went out.
Complete darkness swallowed the room in itself.
Then footsteps. Running. Someone screamed.
Red light erupted to Aerin's left—the burn-scarred boy had created a crude spear of hardened blood. He threw it wildly. It missed, shattered against the wall.
Aerin pressed against a stone barrier that had risen from the floor. His heart hammered. The grimoire in his hands felt hot.
He pressed his thumb to the page again. Blood welled up.
Help me survive this.
The blood spread up his arm, forming thin plating across his skin. It hurt—dozens of needles piercing him—but it held. Weak armor, barely there, but better than nothing.
Footsteps behind him.
Aerin spun. Saw a shadow. Threw himself sideways as something whistled through the air.
The pale girl. She'd created a whip from her blood, long and desperate. Her face was terrified.
"I'm sorry!" she yelled. "I don't wanna hurt anyone but I can't fail-"
The whip came again. Aerin raised his arm. His blood armor caught it, thin threads wrapping around the whip.
She pulled. He pulled. The whip snapped.
She stumbled. Aerin didn't chase. Just stayed where he was, breathing hard.
More red light. More screaming. Bodies hitting stone.
This was not training; this was survival.
Aerin's blood armor was draining him fast. Not just blood—something deeper. Life itself. He could feel it pulling from his core with every second.
He pressed both palms to the floor. Let his blood seep into the cracks between stones. It spread like roots, thin threads reaching through the maze.
And he felt them.
Heartbeats.
Four other students. Their hearts pounding. Their blood flowing through their veins. He could sense them like points of heat in darkness.
One was close. Too close.
Aerin rolled left. A blood spear stabbed into the ground where he'd been.
The boy with burns. Gaping wounds in both hands oozed blood. His eyes were wild.
"Stay down!" he shouted. "I'm not going to kill you, but I have to win-"
Aerin's leg swept out, catching the boy's ankle; he crashed down hard.
Before he could recover, Aerin pressed his bloodied palm against the boy's chest. Let his blood seep through the shirt fabric.
The boy's eyes went wide. "What are you—
"Stay down," Aerin said quietly. "I'll let you go when this is finished."
The blood connection held him like invisible chains. The boy couldn't move.
Aerin stood and kept going.
Two more heartbeats ahead. Fighting each other. He heard the clash, grunts of pain.
One heartbeat stopped fighting. Started running.
The others chased.
Aerin followed and found the pale girl collapsed against a wall, blood dripping from her shoulder.
A short-haired girl arrived, blood blade in hand. Cold eyes. "Nothing personal. But I'm not losing."
She raised the blade toward the pale girl's throat.
Aerin caught her wrist.
The short-haired girl spun, tried to stab him with her other hand.
His blood armor caught the strike. He twisted her wrist. The blade dissolved.
"She's already down," said Aerin.
"So? This is combat."
"She's not an enemy, she is a student."
"Then you're an idiot."
Instead, she lunged at him.
He didn't want to hurt her, but she wasn't leaving him with a choice.
He allowed his armor to extend into claws. Caught her next blade. Twisted. It shattered.
Before she could form another, he pressed his palm to her forehead.
The blood relation glued her tight.
"Stay down," he said. "Please."
She glared but ceased the struggle.
One heartbeat left.
Aerin followed it through the maze. His vision was blurring now. He'd lost too much blood. Used too much energy. His legs felt like lead.
Just a bit more. Hang on.
Another student remained in the center.
A boy. Older. Blood armor covered most of his body—thicker than Aerin's, better formed.
"You're the Arclight," the boy said. "The one with the cursed sword. Everyone's talking about you."
Aerin raised his hands. Ready.
"I waited. Let the others weaken each other." The boy smiled. "Smart, right? Now I'm fresh and you're half-dead already."
He accused.
Fast. His armored fist slammed into Aerin's guard. The impact sent pain shooting up both arms.
Another punch. Another. Each one hit like a hammer. Aerin's weak armor was cracking. Breaking.
I'm going to lose.
The boy's fist came right at his face.
Aerin made a split-second decision. He dissolved all his armor. Let every drop of blood flow back into his body.
Then he redirected everything—all of it—into his right fist. Compressed it. Hardened it.
The boy's fist connected squarely with Aerin's jaw. Stars exploded. His head snapped back.
But Aerin's blood-coated fist crashed into the boy's armor. The impact shattered the construct completely.
They both fell.
Aerin's vision was fading. He tasted blood. His body wouldn't respond.
Get up. You can't lose. Not on the first day. He muttered to himself
His arms did not hold the weight. He fell back again.
Opposite of him, the bigger boy wasn't moving, either.
And the lights flickered back on.
Master Thorne stood over them. "Sufficient."
The stone walls sank back into the floor. The other students were scattered around—some unconscious, others barely sitting up.
Thorne gestured. The red wards flared. Warmth flooded through Aerin—not healing, but stabilizing. Keeping him alive.
"Lesson complete," Thorne announced. "You survived. Congratulations. Last year, three students died in the first lesson."
He trod around, observing every child. Stopped in front of Aerin.
"You held back. You could have killed them. But you chose restraint." Thorne's expression didn't change. "Why?"
Aerin coughed. There was blood on his lips. "They're. students. Not enemies."
"Mercy is weakness."
"Maybe. But I won't kill classmates."
Thorne stared at him. Then nodded once. "We'll see if that survives the semester. Dismissed. Those who can't walk may crawl to the infirmary."
He walked out.
---
Aerin made it to his second class twenty minutes late, covered in dried blood, barely standing.
The Combat Theory professor took one look and pointed to a seat. "Umbra Occulta?"
"Yes, sir."
"Sit. Don't bleed on my floor."
Aerin collapsed and tried to focus. The lecture washed over him. Something about tactical positioning. Terrain advantage. None of it stuck.
All he did was think about the lesson.
The pain. The fear. The moment he almost killed someone.
And beneath, that still small voice: *I restrained myself. Was that right? Or was it weakness?
By lunch, Aerin felt like he'd been trampled. His entire body ached. Moving hurt. Breathing hurt.
Kael found him in the courtyard and whistled. "Okay so Thorne actually tried to kill you. Got it."
"He made us fight with each other."
"With magic?"
"With our blood."
"That's insane." Kael grabbed his arm. "Come on. Food. You look half-dead."
The dining hall was packed. Hundreds of students. The smell made Aerin's stomach clench with hunger.
Kael got them food and dragged him to a back table. "Eat. Now."
Aerin ate. The food tasted like heaven. Real meat. Fresh bread. He finished the first plate in minutes.
Kael pushed his own plate over. "Take it. You need it more."
"You don't have to—"
"Shut up and eat."
As Aerin worked through the second plate, Kael talked about his morning classes. The stuck-up nobles. The professor who set his own desk on fire by accident.
Then he stopped mid-sentence.
His eyes locked on something across the hall.
Aerin followed his gaze.
A girl had just entered.
Silver-white hair that caught the light. Pale skin. She wore the standard uniform but somehow made it look elegant. Her eyes—sapphire blue—swept across the room like she was cataloging every person, every detail.
Those eyes landed on Aerin.
The world seemed to stop.
Aerin felt something twist in his chest. Not painful. Just. there. Like recognition. Like seeing something familiar he couldn't quite place.
The girl's expression didn't change. But her eyes stayed on him for three heartbeats too long.
Then she looked away and walked to a table on the opposite side of the hall. Sat alone. Didn't talk to anyone.
"Who is that?" Aerin asked quietly.
"Seren Moonveil." Kael had recovered from his staring. "Heir to the Moonveil family. Passed her trial without getting hit once. Everyone thinks she'll be ranked first in our year."
"Moonveil." The name stirred something in the original Aerin's memories. Something important. But he couldn't grasp it.
"Old noble family. Like, ancient bloodline going back centuries." Kael leaned in. "Rumor is she's here looking for someone. Some kind of family mission."
Aerin watched her eat alone. Noticed how no one approached her table. How she seemed perfectly content in her isolation.
Then she glanced at him again.
This time he looked away first.
Under his jacket, Sangreal's heartbeat quickened. Just for a moment.
The sword recognized something.
"She's been watching you all day, by the way," Kael said casually. "Every time you're in the same courtyard. Either she likes you or she's planning murder. Hard to tell with nobles."
Aerin's grimoire pulsed once against his chest.
Whatever Sangreal sensed about that silver-haired girl, it wasn't good.
Or maybe it was too good.
He couldn't tell which possibility scared him more.
---
That night, back in his room, Aerin opened his grimoire.
New text had appeared on previously blank pages. Faint, like it was slowly bleeding through:
Crimson Edge- Coat blade in hardened blood for enhanced cutting power. Cost: Minor blood loss.
Crimson Threads - Manipulate your blood externally. Form basic constructs. Cost: Continuous drain on life force.
Blood Binding - Create connections to restrain targets. Cost: Must maintain contact through blood.
Three techniques. That was all he had.
Meanwhile students like Seren probably had dozens of spells already.
Aerin lay back on his bed, exhausted.
One day down. Countless more to go.
And somehow he had to survive long enough to figure out what any of this meant.
Outside his window, the moon rose full and bright.
In another room across campus, a silver-haired girl stood by her window and stared at that same moon.
Her hand touched the moon-shaped earrings her mother had given her. They were warm. They only did that near danger.
"Who are you, Aerin Arclight?" she whispered.
Beneath her bed, wrapped in cloth and hidden from sight, a spear pulsed with faint moonlight. Eclipsa. The weapon that had once fought the Crimson Emperor. Tonight, for the first time in seventy years, it had stirred. And Seren knew exactly what that meant. Her search was over. She'd found him. The one she was supposed to to kill.