The training ground was quiet except for the sound of clashing wooden swords. Ansel moved cautiously, sweat trailing down his brow as he faced Reena, their sparring session well into its second hour. The gleam of her blade reflected the faint sunlight filtering through the high windows of the dome-shaped training hall, a place designed with intricate elven runes and glowing stone pillars that hummed with residual magic.
"Focus, Ansel!" Reena's voice snapped him out of his trance.
Ansel hesitated for a moment, his mind clouded by the memory of last night's dream—a dark room, a massive throne, and a distant voice whispering words he couldn't decipher. That dream had returned, and it gnawed at the edge of his thoughts.
He faltered.
In a split second, Reena disarmed him and he stumbled backward, landing hard on the floor.
"What are you thinking, Ansel?" Reena frowned, walking over to him.
"I'm sorry," he muttered, rubbing his temple. "I was… thinking about something."
Mistress Leona, standing a few paces away, sheathed her twin swords and approached. Her dark armor shimmered faintly with silver lines, her gaze stern. "That's enough for today. Ansel, are you alright?"
"Yes, Mistress," he replied, pulling himself up.
"Good. Don't let your thoughts dull your edge," she said, then turned and left without another word.
Reena brushed off her sleeves. "Wanna go have lunch together?"
Ansel nodded. "Okay."
They walked side by side through the academy's west corridor. The stone walls were tall and adorned with paintings of past heroes—mages and warriors alike—etched in golden borders. As they stepped into the canteen building, the air shifted. It was a large hall with two separate sections—one for nobles, extravagant and colorful with crystal chandeliers and velvet seats, and another plainer side with wooden benches for the commoners.
The nobles' section served luxury meals—roast meats, delicacies from across the empire, Meanwhile the commoners were given basic fare: dry bread, a bowl of beans, and thin soup.
Reena and Ansel arrived and quietly took their place on the commoner side.
"Heey, hey! Look, the cursed child is here again," someone sneered.
"Get away from us!" another voice shouted.
"Who's that with him? Is she cursed too?"
"Damn devil. Purple-eyed freak."
Ansel clenched his fists but remained silent, his eyes burning with the need to suppress his emotions.
He turned to Reena, his voice low. "Reena, get away from me."
"What?" she looked at him, startled.
"If you hang out with me, no one else will come near you. You'll be mocked too. Just… go."
Reena frowned, clearly hurt. "What are you saying? I'm not going anywhere."
"But…"
"I don't care what they say. I'm not leaving you alone, Ansel."
They sat together at a small corner table. No other students came close.
Moments later, Vulcan Ashwood entered the canteen. The golden embroidery of his Class A uniform gleamed as he strolled confidently to the nobles' section, receiving respectful nods from other students. But as he looked toward Ansel and Reena, he changed course.
With his tray of luxury food, he walked directly to their table.
"Hey, Ansel! What are you doing?" Vulcan grinned, pulling a chair beside him.
Whispers exploded across the room.
"Is that Vulcan Ashwood?"
"He's sitting with the cursed boy!"
"He even brought his food over!"
"Try this, Ansel," Vulcan said cheerfully, placing a thick cut of roast meat on his tray. "It's delicious."
He then turned to Reena. "Is she your friend?"
"Yes," Ansel said. "Her name is Reena."
"Nice to meet you, Reena. I'm Vulcan."
Reena narrowed her eyes. "Why are you hanging around with Ansel? Are you mocking him or using him for something?"
Vulcan raised his brows. "No, you've got the wrong idea."
"Then tell me," Reena demanded. "Why are you helping Ansel?"
Vulcan looked at her seriously. "Because he's my friend."
Reena stood up suddenly. "Friends, huh? I have to go. The princess is looking for me."
Ansel looked up. "Reena, why are you leaving?"
She offered a small smile. "See you tomorrow, Ansel."
As she left, Vulcan let out a sigh. "I'm sorry. If I hadn't come over, she might not have gone."
"It's not your fault," Ansel said. "She just misunderstood. People have been bullying me a lot, so she's protective."
There was a pause.
"Let's go to the library," Ansel said.
"The library?" Vulcan groaned. "That's so boring."
"But we have to study," Ansel replied with a faint smile.
"Alright, alright," Vulcan laughed. "Let's go."
The rumors of Vulcan, heir of the powerful Asura Clan, sitting with the 'cursed boy' Ansel Nighthawk, spread like wildfire across the academy. Whispers and gossip followed them wherever they went—but for the first time, Ansel didn't feel entirely alone.
A friendship was beginning. And in the shadows, that mysterious dream still lingered, waiting to return.