Avian's POV

The Grand Coliseum was exactly what you'd expect from the Empire's premier Academy—ancient, massive, and designed to make everyone feel appropriately small.

Avian sat in the noble section with Kai and Elira, watching thousands of students file in. The morning was already warm, promising a hot day ahead. Good thing they were in the shaded area. Sometimes noble privilege had its practical benefits.

"Decent turnout this year," Kai observed, lounging against the stone barrier behind them. "Must be close to five thousand."

"Five thousand two hundred and thirty-seven," Elira corrected, because of course she'd already counted. "The Academy expanded enrollment by twelve percent."

"Why?" Avian asked, genuinely curious.

"The official letter mentioned 'changing times requiring exceptional talents,'" she said. "Though that could mean anything from border tensions to simple economics."

Below them, the scholarship students were finding their seats. Some looked terrified, others excited, most just overwhelmed. Avian noticed a few who radiated real power—a girl whose fingers sparked with barely contained lightning, twins who moved with the trained grace of warriors, a thin boy whose eyes tracked everything with unnatural focus.

"Some strong ones in that batch," Kai noted, following his gaze.

"Mmm. Third Circle mage, maybe pushing Fourth, that lightning girl."

"Ten silver says she makes top rankings by midterms."

"No bet. She's holding back—smart move, not painting a target on day one."

The noble section was filling too. Avian spotted Garrett Blackstone and his entourage claiming prime seats, making sure everyone saw them. The Silvermoon delegation took the opposite side, maintaining their traditional rivalry through seating arrangements.

Then Canaline Cloveborn arrived, her ember-red hair impossible to miss even from a distance. She caught his eye, raised an eyebrow that somehow conveyed 'can you believe we have to sit through this?' He shrugged in response. She smirked and turned to speak with her attendants.

"Subtle as always, you two," Kai muttered.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Right. And I'm secretly the Emperor."

"Your majesty," Elira said with a perfectly straight face, offering him an imaginary crown.

"The protagonist has arrived!"

They all turned to see Leontis making his entrance—and it was definitely an entrance. Cape billowing despite the lack of wind, teaching assistant badge polished to blinding brightness, somehow managing to trip up the stairs and make it look intentional.

"How does he do that?" Kai wondered. "The cape thing. There's literally no wind."

"Sound magic probably," Avian said. "He can create micro-pressure waves or something."

"That's the dumbest use of rare magic I've ever heard."

"That's Leontis."

A bell rang through the coliseum—not heard but felt, resonating through the stone itself. Everyone fell silent as Dean Aldrich appeared in the center of the sandy floor. He looked exactly like you'd expect—old, dignified, slightly amused by everything.

"Welcome to the Imperial Academy," he began, his voice carrying perfectly without shouting. "You are here because you have demonstrated exceptional potential. What you do with that potential over the next four years will determine not just your future, but possibly the Empire's."

Standard opening. Avian settled in for what would probably be an hour of rules and expectations.

"The Academy operates on a simple principle," the Dean continued. "Excellence is rewarded, mediocrity is challenged, and failure is... educational. You will be pushed beyond what you think possible. Some will discover hidden strengths. Others will find their limits. Both discoveries have value."

He began pacing, robes barely disturbing the sand.

"Your rankings will be updated weekly based on academic performance, combat trials, and faculty evaluation. These rankings determine everything—housing quality, resource allocation, advanced training opportunities. The system is designed to be competitive but not cruel. Help each other when you can. Excellence shared strengthens the Empire."

"Practical matters," he continued. "Classes begin tomorrow. You should have received your schedules from your floor prefects. If not, see the administrative office. Do not be late. Professors here have creative punishments for tardiness."

A few nervous chuckles from the crowd.

"Combat trials begin in one week. These are supervised, non-lethal tests of martial capability. Participation is mandatory for combat track students, optional for others. Medical staff will be present, but I encourage you to avoid needing them."

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"The Underground is off-limits to first-years without faculty supervision. This is for your safety. Second-years may access levels one through three. Third-years and above have full access at their own risk. And it is a risk—we lose a few overconfident students every year who ignore the warnings."

He paused, gaze sweeping the crowd.

"Social clubs and organizations will hold recruitment events this week. I encourage participation. The connections you make here often matter more than the skills you learn. That said, the Death Cult Appreciation Society is not a real club, despite what the flyers claim. Please stop trying to join it."

That got actual laughter.

"Dining halls are open from dawn until midnight. The food is nutritious, if not always appetizing. Thursday's menu is... unique. Consider it training in poison detection. Yes, Mr. Brightwater, that was a joke. Mostly."

More laughter. The tension in the coliseum was easing.

"Finally," the Dean said, "remember why you're here. Not just for personal glory or family honor, but to become capable of serving the Empire when needed. The world is changing. Old powers stir. New threats emerge. We need heroes, scholars, warriors, and leaders. We need you to become the best version of yourselves."

He clapped once, the sound echoing like thunder.

"Welcome to the Academy. Try not to die. Dismissed."

And then he was gone—not disappeared, just walking away like a normal person, which was somehow more unsettling.

The coliseum erupted in conversation as students began filing out.

"Well, that was refreshingly normal," Kai said.

"Suspiciously normal," Avian corrected. "No surprise tests, no hidden trials, no dramatic demonstrations."

"Maybe they're saving that for later?"

"Definitely saving it for later."

They joined the crowd heading for the exits. The scholarship students moved in tight groups, safety in numbers. The nobles strutted and peacocked, making sure everyone knew their names and ranks. Most people gave Avian a wide berth—not exactly scared, but definitely cautious. The rumors had done their work.

Lux padded beside him in her physical form, drawing her own share of stares. A spirit wolf was rare enough, but one made of living lightning was something most had only read about. She seemed to enjoy the attention, occasionally letting sparks dance across her fur just to watch people jump.

Wonder what Seren's up to, Avian thought as they navigated the crowd. Probably buried in some archive, finding more dangerous truths. Hopefully being careful about it.

As they reached the North Tower, Avian noticed three scholarship students hovering near the entrance, clearly working up courage for something. They kept glancing at him, then away, then back again.

"Just get it over with," Avian called out, tired of the nervous dance.

They jumped, then approached hesitantly. The one in front, a girl with ink-stained fingers, seemed to be their designated speaker.

"Lord Veritas, we're... we're assigned to your floor. The housing secretary said we had to check in with the noble students. Make sure there's no... conflicts."

Translation: make sure the nobles know who they can torment without consequences.

"Names?"

"I'm Mira. These are Edgar and Thomas. We're in room 4-F."

No last names. Commoners rarely had them unless they earned them through achievement.

"Fine. Stay out of my way, I'll stay out of yours."

They nodded quickly and practically ran into the building.

"Friendly as always," Kai commented.

"They'll appreciate it more than false kindness."

The North Tower loomed above them, black stone and implied violence. Their home for the next four years—or less, if Avian had his way.

"Fourth floor," Elira announced, checking her notes. "Corner suite for you, young master. Mr. Kai has the adjacent room."

They climbed the stairs, Lux bounding ahead and leaving small scorch marks on the stone. The fourth floor was quiet—most students were still exploring campus or unpacking.

"Three commoners in a single room," Kai observed once they reached their hallway. "While you get a suite."

"The faster I climb the rankings, the faster I can skip required classes and get out of here," Avian said, already calculating. "No point hiding anything. Let them see exactly how outmatched they are."

"Going for the number one spot?"

"Going for graduating in two years instead of four. The mountains of Calfont aren't getting any closer while I sit through Basic Sword Theory."

Lux barked agreement, sending a small shower of sparks across the floor.

Kai headed for his room to check security, his new paranoia serving him well. Elira followed Avian into his suite, already planning optimal furniture arrangement.

Avian's suite was exactly what he'd expected—luxurious, practical, and slightly ridiculous for a single student. The living area alone was larger than most family homes.

Through the window, he could see other students exploring the campus. Normal first day activities. Normal orientation.

Almost too normal.

"Young master," Elira said, already organizing his belongings with practiced efficiency. "Shall I arrange for some spare furniture to be 'accidentally' delivered to the wrong room? Say, room 4-F?"

"I don't care what you do with spare furniture."

"Of course not." She continued unpacking, a small smile on her face. "It would be terrible if some delivery person made such a mistake. Three beds and desks instead of one."

Lux jumped onto the oversized couch, claiming it immediately. Her weight made the expensive fabric spark and smoke slightly, but the enchantments held. Academy furniture was apparently wolf-proof.

Should probably write to Seren, Avian thought, watching Lux make herself comfortable. Let her know I made it to the Academy without burning anything down. Yet.

Maybe it would stay normal. Maybe this would just be a regular school year without world-ending threats or ancient conspiracies.

He looked at Fargrim where he'd set it against the wall, the demon blade humming softly.

Yeah, probably not.

But for now, orientation was done. Tomorrow would bring classes, rankings, and the beginning of his accelerated path through the Academy. Two years to get strong enough for Calfont. Two years to find answers about Vaerin.

He could play the Academy's games for that long.

Probably.

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