Days blurred into weeks. Seasons shifted like changing colors on a massive tapestry. Time passed too quickly—and in just three more weeks,The Grand Academy of Arcanthia would open its gates.
And yet… Froy remained uncertain.
He had lived in Zolon for nearly two years now, and not once—not once—had he laid eyes on the Academy.No towers. No gates. Not even a shadow.
Only the rumors from tavern guests at Midnight Tavern, whispering of its overwhelming grandeur.
He supposed it made sense.The capital of Solmira was vast—7,777 square kilometers of winding districts, towering architecture, and streets that could swallow kingdoms whole.Calling Zolon a city was generous. In truth, it was a nation wearing the skin of a metropolis.
But even in such an endless sprawl, travel was surprisingly efficient—thanks to the forgotten genius of a legend.
Arcane.
The Grand Magus.
The Timeless Scholar.
No one knew their face, gender, or race.But the magic they left behind reshaped the world.
Across every 3.5 kilometers of Zolon stood an arcane landmark—a Warp Rune Node, perfectly etched and eternally humming.These runes consumed no mana, and yet allowed instantaneous teleportation throughout the entire city.Thousands of mages had tried replicating the system.None had succeeded.
This morning, like any other, Froy was back at work in Midnight Tavern—serving plates with a polite smile that masked far too much.Tips flowed easily. Customers adored him.Owen and Emily worked hard in the kitchen as always, filling the air with the scent of roasted meats and fresh bread.
Amie wasn't home.She only returned during school breaks.Still, Froy didn't mind.The noise of the city, the bustle of the tavern, and the careless conversations of travelers—
They gave him all the information he needed.
Curiosity tugged at Froy like a whisper in the wind.It was rare—so rare—for anything to stir his emotions anymore.But this… this question had been gnawing at him.
Why had he never seen the Academy?
During a lull between orders, he quietly approached one of the regulars—a weathered adventurer with a kind face and scars that told a thousand stories.
"Sir," Froy asked, tilting his head with innocent charm, "do you mind if I ask you something?"
The adventurer glanced at him and chuckled."Sure, lad. What's on your mind?"
"Well…" Froy's eyes shimmered with a rare sparkle.That soft blue—like the clearest morning sky—glinted with childlike wonder."I've been living in Zolon for almost two years now, and I've never seen The Grand Academy of Arcanthia. Not even once. But I keep hearing how big and important it is…"
The adventurer leaned back, raising a brow in amusement."Hah! You wouldn't believe it even if you saw it yourself, kid."
Froy leaned forward, hands clasped like a hopeful student."Try me!" he said, grinning. "Pleaseee?"
The adventurer laughed, clearly charmed.
"Alright, alright. Listen close now, boy."He gestured toward the ceiling, as if pointing to something far beyond the tavern's roof."The Grand Academy of Arcanthia… isn't part of the city. Not technically, anyway. It floats."
"Floats?" Froy blinked.
"Above the clouds," the adventurer said proudly. "3,000square kilometers of pure arcane brilliance—an entire flying domain hidden from view with illusion spells, divine enchantments, and barriers thick enough to stop a dragon mid-flight."
Froy's jaw dropped slightly. "That's… amazing! But how do you know that?"
The adventurer winked.
"I take it you're new to Zolon, huh? Well, here's the thing—every now and then, the Academy opens its gates to the public for special events. Locals get to go in, cheer for their kids, watch duels, or attend the Festivals of Light. They announce it city-wide, but it hasn't happened lately."
"Why not?" Froy asked, wide-eyed.
"Because," the adventurer said with a grin, "they're busy preparing the campus. A new generation of students is coming."
Froy's heart thumped—once. Stronger than usual.
He smiled.
"Wow…"
The adventurer chuckled and ruffled Froy's hair gently.
"You've got that look in your eye," he said. "You thinking of taking the test?"
Froy straightened, brushing his hair back with a small, composed smile."Maybe," he replied. "I hear it's open to everyone… if they pass."
"That's right."The adventurer nodded, lifting his mug for a sip."But it's no easy thing. They don't just test magic or swordplay. It's everything. Who you are. What you're capable of. What you're not."
Froy said nothing.
He just watched the foam swirl in the adventurer's mug, the reflection of lanternlight rippling like the thoughts in his mind.
Outside, the night was growing deeper.The stars, though hidden by the lights of Zolon, still glimmered faintly beyond the haze.
Froy excused himself politely and stepped outside.
The streets were quieter now.The usual bustle of the market had faded into soft laughter and flickering lanterns.He looked up.
There was nothing there—just clouds and sky.
But now he knew.
Somewhere above that sky…a city of wonders floated, waiting.
He took a deep breath.The air tasted different now.
His thoughts turned to Amie, to Owen and Emily, to the tavern, the coins he'd saved, the secrets he kept.Then to the names he'd memorized. The techniques he'd overheard. The questions he'd practiced in silence.
He placed a hand over his chest.
"Soon," he whispered.
"Soon… I'll rise, too."
He looked up once more, toward the clouds.
The stars had begun to fade behind the early breath of dawn.
Somewhere above them… the Academy waited.
And beyond that, perhaps, his future.
A world this vast—a hundred times larger than the Earths of old—
required time to understand. Time to master. Time to move.
But time, in this world, was different.
Humans lived well past 150 years.
Those of noble blood—kings, lords, and blessed lineages—could live beyond 250.
Beastkin shared the same span as man.
Dwarves aged slow and steady, many seeing 800 winters before they slept.
Elves? A thousand. Sometimes two.
Orcs, short-lived yet unstoppable, rarely saw past ninety… but bred faster than any race alive.
And beyond them—there were others.
Races yet unnamed. Powers yet awakened.
Mysteries that even time dared not touch.
Froy was only twelve.
But he didn't need centuries.
Just a moment.
The right moment.
And when it came…
He'd rise high enough to make even the immortals look up.
He turned away from the sky, stepping back into the tavern.
The stars did not follow.
But the silence did.
He was not chosen by the stars.
He would rise without them.
And the world would never be the same.