The year is 22088, 32 years after the war, a time when the boundaries of continents and nations had shifted like sand in a storm. From the ruins of World War 3, Eurastra had emerged—a powerful entity forged from the northern and western fragments of the old European continent, the United Kingdom, Iceland, and Greenland. It was a world where magic and technology coexisted in an uneasy alliance, their union heralded by a man whose name had been lost to time but whose discovery had altered the course of humanity.

As the first rays of dawn pierced through the rain-soaked clouds, the sprawling cityscape of New London awoke. Gothic spires and futuristic skyscrapers jutted into the sky, their holographic displays casting an eerie, iridescent glow. The academy stood at the heart of this metropolis, a bastion of learning and power where the future Mages of Eurastra were trained. In this new world order, power was no longer measured by armies or nuclear arms but by the Mages trained within institutions like NovaMyst. It stood as both a testament to humanity's resilience and a reminder of the fragile balance between progress and ruin.

NovaMyst Institute was not just an academy; it was a city within a city. The grand gates opened to a sprawling complex of classical architecture enhanced by glowing blue neon lights. The main building, a towering structure that seemed to touch the sky, was a beacon of prestige and technological advancement. The Mages trained within its halls were not just wielders of power; they were Eurastra's first line of defense, its most valuable resource in a world where borders and alliances shifted with the tides of Aetherium —raw magic, or as others used to call it Mana.

Amid the throng of new students arriving at the academy, two figures stood apart, although for very different reasons. A young woman clutched the strap of her bag, her breath misting in the morning air. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and ozone, a sharpness that mingled with the faint hum of holographic displays. Her dark hair cascaded in loose waves, and the casual elegance of her posture stood in stark contrast to the tension around her. Irina Melnic, radiant and poised, her beauty and grace drawing subtle glances of admiration from the crowd.

Beside her, however, the young man was less welcome. Anton Melnic, his spiky black hair and the brooding intensity in his eyes, was pulling Irina close with a possessive grip. The faint murmur of voices drifted around them, but this time, it was Anton who bore the brunt of the whispers.

"Look who's here," a voice muttered with a smirk. A tall student with the crest of a prominent family that's responsible for building AetherTech transportation pinned to his chest, leaned casually against one of the academy's towering columns. His eyes fixed on Anton."The fucking Melnic twins. Thought Sovitechna would keep their incestuous shit out of Eurastra."

The girl beside him rolled her eyes, her lips curling into a sneer. "Poor Anton. The black sheep of the great Melnic family, always hanging on to his sister's skirts." Her gaze shifted to Irina, softening into admiration. "She could do so much better without him dragging her down."

"Yeah," another boy chimed in with a grin. "He's only here because of Irina. I bet the Melnics would have tossed him years ago if she didn't protect him. She's the real prize—bound to their family's demon, or whatever the fuck keeps them so powerful." He chuckled darkly. "But Anton? Worthless."

The first student laughed bitterly. "Can't blame him for sticking to her like glue. It's the only thing keeping him from getting stomped on in here."

"Or worse," the girl added, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "You've heard the rumors, right? Some people say it's not all an act. Anton's obsessed with her. Wouldn't be surprised if he's got his hands on her behind closed doors." She shuddered dramatically but her eyes gleamed with the scandal. She eyed Irina again, admiring. "But I bet she knows what she's doing. Irina's smart—maybe too smart for her own brother. She's probably the one pulling the strings, letting him think he's safe."

Another boy standing nearby joined the conversation with a sneer. "Whatever. Royals are all fucked up anyway. She probably keeps him around for her own amusement. But everyone knows Anton is weak. The Melnics would rather see him dead than let him drag their name down."

"True," the girl said, her gaze cold as she looked over Anton. "But it makes you wonder, doesn't it? Why keep him around if he's such an embarrassment? Maybe Irina's using him for something. Maybe he's got some hidden potential we don't know about. She always was good at playing the long game."

"Oi, wank stain." A new voice cut through their whispers, sharp and unbothered. The group turned to see a boy approaching, his hands stuffed casually into his pockets. He stood tall, his athletic build radiating a quiet confidence. The young man stood, with a wooden pink katana strapped to his back, eyed the group without a hint of intimidation.

The first boy straightened up, scowling. "Who the fuck do you think you are, butting in here and talking to us like that?"

The katana wielding boy flashed a grin, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Oh, please. Don't act like you're anything special." His tone was light, almost mocking. "The only importance you'll have is being a name on the rejected list."

"The fuck you say?" the boy snapped, stepping forward.

The boy with the sword widened his grin, his eyes daring. "Go on, then. Give me a reason."

Before the situation could escalate, a voice rang out from the crowd, cutting through the tension like a knife.

"Excuse me! Excuse me!" A young woman emerged from the sea of students, her blonde hair glinting in the dim light. Elysia Arundel, graceful and composed, moved with an air of authority that demanded attention. Her blue eyes flashed with a quiet intensity as she approached the sword wielding boy and the group, exuding a confidence that silenced any protest.

She smiled apologetically, her voice soft yet commanding. "I am so, so sorry about this. Truly." She bowed slightly, a gesture that seemed more of a formality than a genuine apology. The students, too stunned by her sudden appearance, simply nodded in agreement.

"I hope you can forgive him," Elysia continued, her tone endearing yet firm. "He tends to wander off. It's a bad habit." Without waiting for a response, she took the young man by the arm, her fingers firm yet graceful. "Come on," she whispered harshly as she dragged him away from the crowd. "Can you not run off on me? Honestly, Nate..."

Nate just chuckled as he allowed himself to be led away, casting one last glance at the group. "Catch you later wank stain," he called over his shoulder, still grinning.

As they disappeared into the crowd, the girl who had been mocking Anton whispered excitedly, "Holy shit! That was Elysia Arundel."

"Yeah, I know!" the first boy said, his voice still stunned. "And I fucking spoke to her."

"More like she spoke at you," the girl teased. "But she's one of the Arcons, isn't she? One of the most powerful families in the world. No wonder she walks around like she owns the place."

The boy sighed wistfully. "Yeah. And she probably does."

With the momentary excitement over, the group slowly turned their attention back to the grand main building, looming over the courtyard like a titan. Its wide staircase led up to an imposing entrance, where every new student gathered, hearts racing with anticipation. Here, they would wait for their interviews and entrance exams, the pivotal moments that would determine their future.

The main hall, where the new arrivals enter, boasts grand architecture with high ceilings, ornate fixtures, and an overall air of opulence. Echoes of conversations and footsteps reverberate throughout, hinting at the building's many passages and rooms.

Inside, the main hall branches off into various corridors, each leading to different parts of the academy. To the left, there are rooms designated for initial assessments and screenings, where students are taken after the main entry. These rooms are pristine and equipped with state-of-the-art tools for evaluating the students' capabilities.

To the right, corridors lead to waiting areas, where nervous candidates gather, awaiting their turn. These rooms are more intimate, with seating arrangements that encourage quiet contemplation.

Each room within the academy serves a specific purpose, from interview spaces to testing chambers, all meticulously designed to ensure an efficient and comprehensive evaluation process.

As students move from room to room, they are observed and assessed, their every action contributing to the final decision of their uniform design The divisions are stark:

Marks: Reserved for top performers, those whose magical abilities and performance set them apart. Royals and the elite often find themselves here. The uniforms for students with a black stripe on their shoulder proudly display a symbol of their prestige and excellence.

Blanks: For those whose abilities or performance don't quite meet the academy's rigorous standards, even if they possess significant raw power. Blank students face substantial discrimination, with a slightly altered uniform that lacks the black stripe, marking their lower status.

The air carried a faint metallic scent, likely from the state-of-the-art Aetherium devices that pulsed quietly in the corner of every room. Overhead, soft lights cast a sterile glow, adding to the already tense atmosphere as students shifted nervously in their seats.

Nervous glances were exchanged in the waiting areas, where whispered rumors of past failures weighed heavily on the new arrivals. Every now and then, a door would open, and a student would be called. Those left behind would hold their breath, uncertain if they'd ever see that person again in the same way.

In the assessment chambers, students would be subjected to a battery of tests—magical aptitude screenings, reflex evaluations, and even psychological profiling—all designed to extract their true potential.

Anton leaned against the wall, his gaze fixed on the pristine floors, as a Mark student brushed past him, their black stripe gleaming under the hall lights. Anton's eyes followed the student, but he said nothing.

Two students walk past Anton and Irina, as one whispered to the other. "I'd rather die than wear that stripeless uniform. You might as well have 'failure' stitched onto yourself."

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

The Master of Ceremonies, a figure cloaked in authority, approached with the precision of a predator. In his hands, he held the holographic display with the names of the students he would call in next.

"Anton Melnic?" He says.

Anton steps forward and lifts his arms slightly.

"Follow me." Says the Master of Ceremonies as he leads him through the halls.

Anton followed the Master of Ceremonies through the halls, his heart a slow, steady beat in his chest. He kept his face neutral, but every step closer to the room felt like stepping deeper into an ocean he might not surface from. Blank. The word echoed in his mind like a curse. Was that his fate? To wear failure like a uniform? I wonder what that would feel like. He thinks before his thoughts are interrupted by the Master.

"I hear you are from the Nortechsphere Union correct? And that you have your sister with you also?"

Anton nods. "That is correct."

"Well, you could have fooled me with the accent and all." Says the Master, surprised at how well Anton is speaking with a New London accent.

"I have been here for a while, so I ended up picking up a thing or two." He smiles.

"Hm. Well, are you familiar with the process you are about to go through now?" The Master asks Anton.

"Not really, but I did hear some people mention classes."

The Master clears his throat. "Yes, well you will be going into a room that will have the faculty body waiting for you inside. This body is composed of the headmaster, the vice headmaster and a few prominent teachers. They will be conducting an interview with you, and then take you outside where you will then be sorted into a group so you can take the practical exam where your ability to activate a Kindling sequence, or in layman's terms, the processing speed at which you can activate your magic." He stops at a door to his right and turns on his heels to face the boy.

"Any questions?"

"No sir." Replies Anton.

"Very well then, best of luck." Says the master bowing to Anton.

Anton takes a slow deep breath and steps inside the room.

"Nate, seriously you need to not do that." Scolded Elysia.

"You know it still surprises me how quickly you adapted to calling me like that."

Elysia raises an eyebrow. "Are you trying to change the subject on me, mister?"

"No no, not at all milady, I genuinely mean it."

"So would you say I am amazing?" Elysia jokingly asks

Nate looks at her deadpan. "Am I allowed to honestly answer that?"

Elysia slaps his shoulder playfully

"That's abuse of power." Nate points out.

"I'll show you abuse in a second if you keep it up." She replies moving past him

"Ohhh is that a promise?" He asks teasingly.

"I am being serious... Look I don't have much time now because I have to do my interviews and practicals but please promise me?"

Nate takes a deep long breath and lets out a sigh. "Fine, fine I promise." Nate sighed, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Whatever the world expected from Lady Arundel, Lysia was different when it was just them. He'd seen the polished veneer drop enough times to know her better than most—maybe too well.

"Yaaay!" She excitedly headpats him "I'll be off, just remember your promise and what we spoke about, oh and remember what I said first Impressions matter" She says and she runs to her appointments.

Nate ends up sitting down on the floor against a wall and after a few minutes the Master of Ceremonies approaches him.

"Nathaniel Davis?" He calls.

"Nathaniel Davis?" The Master calls once more.

Nate looks at him and jumps up almost surprised.

"Oh erm here I am." He says as he makes him way towards the Master.

"Hard of hearing, are we?" The Master asks.

Nate's eye twitches slightly in annoyance.

"Just tired sir." He says, giving him a fake smile, to which the Master does the same.

The Master of Ceremonies led Nathaniel Davis through the winding corridors of NovaMyst. The pristine walls, bathed in the soft glow of Aetherium devices, were nothing more than hollow symbols of human achievement to Nate. He could feel the pulsing hum of magic in the air, a pathetic attempt to control something they didn't fully understand.

"Are you familiar with what you will be doing Mr Davis?"

"Yes. Lysia has seen to it herself that I know these things.

"Lysia?" The Master of Ceremonies asks.

"Elysia." Nate replies nonchalantly.

"Lady Arundel?" The Master's eyes flicked over Nate, assessing. "It is just... unusual to hear an Arcon referred to with such... frivolity."

Nate shrugged, unfazed. "What can I say? We're close like that." The Master's lips thinned.

"Be that as it may, this is not a place for such familiarity."

"Be that as it may, I am aware of things, yes." Nate replies with a thin smile, though his voice carried an undercurrent of disinterest. In truth, he could barely tolerate the man's presence. People like him and their pompous self-importance. This entire academy was built on a foundation they had no right to claim.

"In that case I shall not keep you any longer. Best of luck." The Master says as he opens a door eyeing Nate as he steps through the door.

As Nathaniel stepped into the room, his eyes flicked to the faculty seated at the table. Their expressions gave nothing away, but he could feel the weight of their judgment, cold and clinical. It was as if they already knew his fate.

Facing a semi-circle of faculty members. The headmaster, Vice Headmaster, and several distinguished professors sat behind a polished table, each with an air of authority.

"Mr. Davis," the headmaster said, gesturing toward the center of the room. " I am Headmaster Blackwood. Please, step forward."

Nate walked to the centre of the room; his movements calm but purposeful. He could feel the weight of their stares, the judgment in their eyes. To them, he was nothing more than Elysia's hand-picked protector—an enigma, perhaps, but nothing extraordinary.

The Vice Headmaster leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "You've come to NovaMyst under... unusual circumstances, haven't you, Mr. Davis?"

Nate didn't flinch. "Depends on what you mean by 'unusual.'"

"You're not exactly a traditional knight," the Vice Headmaster said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Most knights who attend this academy have trained for years. Yet, from what we've gathered, you have no formal background."

Nate's lips twitched into a smirk. "I'm well-equipped for the job. Let's leave it at that."

A few of the faculty members exchanged curious glances, but the headmaster didn't seem to appreciate Nate's flippant tone. "NovaMyst expects its students—and its knights—to uphold the highest standards of discipline and decorum."

Nate's smile faded, his patience wearing thin. "I'm aware of your standards."

The headmaster's gaze hardened. "You understand that your abilities will be tested, just as the students' are. NovaMyst doesn't make exceptions. Regardless of your connection to Lady Arundel, you will need to prove yourself."

At that, Nate's eyes darkened, a flicker of his true self rising to the surface for just a heartbeat. Me? prove myself to you? That's laughable.

"I don't think that will be a problem," Nate said, his voice carrying an unsettling calm.

The Vice Headmaster frowned. "We've heard rumours about your... capabilities, Mr. Davis. But as of now, they're just that—rumours. What exactly qualifies you to serve as Lady Arundel's knight? After all, even with all these rumours there is virtually nothing that is known about you. The only reason we even accepted your application was at the request of the Arundel's family head."

Nate's gaze turned icy, but his voice remained level. "Lady Arundel trusts me to protect her. That's all the qualification I need."

"Trust alone won't suffice in this academy," the headmaster said, his tone sharp. "You will be required to demonstrate your combat proficiency, your ability to channel Aetherium, and your adaptability to the challenges we present."

Nate's eyes flickered with a dangerous intensity. He had to remind himself that these were just the gatekeepers of a system far beneath him, but even then, he had his limits.

"It is as you said, you will be judging me on MY ability what is MINE as nothing to do with Lady Arundel whatsoever so can you stop this fucking nonsense and just tell me what I am required to do?" Nate said, his voice dropping to a near-growl.

For a split second everyone is stunned.

You'll watch your tone here, Mr. Davis," the headmaster said, trying to regain control of the situation, his voice tight with controlled anger. But Nate caught the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

A younger professor, his eyes gleaming with curiosity rather than fear, leaned forward. "The practical assessment will take place after your interview. We will observe your Kindling sequence, reaction speed, and spell proficiency. It'll be interesting to see how you perform."

Nate's smirk returned, though it was colder than before 'm sure I will," Nate replied, his tone laced with confidence that bordered on arrogance.

"Let us start the interview then shall we." Says the headmaster

"Good morning, Nathaniel. Let's begin. Can you start by telling us a bit about yourself and why you've chosen to join NovaMyst Institute?"

Nate shifted slightly in his seat, keeping his posture relaxed but respectful. "Good morning. There's not much to tell, really. I've always admired the reputation of NovaMyst and the opportunities it offers. I've been traveling with Lady Arundel for a while now, and when she decided to attend, it just made sense for me to follow. I wanted to be in an environment where I could learn and develop, even if my role here is a bit... unconventional.

"We've seen many students from various backgrounds. What unique skills or qualities do you believe you bring to our institution?"

He paused, glancing briefly at the people in front of him before speaking again. "I wouldn't say I'm unique. My main focus has always been protecting those I'm assigned to. I'm reliable, and I'm good at staying calm under pressure. I wouldn't call that a special skill, but I think it's valuable in an environment as intense as NovaMyst."

"Considering your background with the Arundel family, how do you think your experiences there have prepared you for our rigorous environment?"

Nate nodded, keeping his voice steady and measured. "The Arundel has a strong focus on discipline and efficiency, which I think has prepared me for the structured environment here. I'm used to following protocols and staying on task, no matter the challenge. I've learned to adapt quickly, which I think will be helpful when things get demanding at NovaMyst."

"At NovaMyst, collaboration is key. Can you provide an example of a time when you successfully worked within a team to achieve a difficult goal?"

His expression remained neutral, though inside, he hated questions like these. Still, he kept his tone respectful. "Seeing as how I just got my chip implanted a few months ago I haven't had a chance to collaborate with anyone in the context of achieving a difficult goal."

"There will be times when you face significant challenges or setbacks. Can you tell us about a time you encountered a major obstacle and how you overcame it?"

Nate shifted slightly, his gaze flicking briefly toward the ceiling as though he were thinking back.

"Securing my place with the Arundel family was not easy, especially when it came to becoming a knight to Lady Arundel. There were a lot of people out to dismiss me or flat out get rid of me. The key was staying calm and adapting quickly. I focused on getting myself so far ahead of everyone else on every single field I could control, which I managed to do. It wasn't easy, but sometimes the best way to overcome obstacles is to stay focused and not let panic take over."

"Our students often engage in research and projects that push the boundaries of what we know. Do you have any particular areas of interest or projects in mind that you would like to pursue here?"

Nate offered a small shrug, trying to keep his response modest. "I wouldn't say I have any specific research projects in mind. I'm more focused on improving my skills in protection and combat proficiency. I'm sure there are plenty of opportunities here at NovaMyst for me to learn and grow, but I haven't given much thought to anything beyond that."

how do you plan to leverage the resources and training at NovaMyst to achieve your personal and professional goals?"

Nate smiled faintly, though there was a hint of something darker behind it. "I plan to take advantage of whatever training is offered to me to become more capable in my role as Lady Arundel's protector. Beyond that, my goal is simple—to make sure she's safe and that I'm prepared for anything that might come our way. If NovaMyst's resources help me achieve that, then I'll consider it a success."

The younger professor leans forward once more.

"In your opinion, what is the relationship between magic and technology in our world, and how do you see yourself contributing to this evolving dynamic? Do you agree with the status quo of things or would you like to see anything changed and if so what, and how?"

"There you go again with your incessant questions Lillian" The Viceheadmaster says, annoyed. Lillian just ignores him and looks at Nate expectantly.

Nate took a moment, choosing his words carefully. "Magic and technology are becoming more intertwined every day. I think that balance is what keeps things advancing. Personally, I don't see myself contributing much to that dynamic—my focus is more on protection and staying ready for whatever comes next. But I know the work being done here at NovaMyst is shaping that future, and I'm glad to be part of it, even in a small way."

"So you are content with things as they are?" Lillian asks once more.

"Things?" Nate probes

"The system." Lillian responds

The Vice headmaster leans forward in an attempt to interrupt the conversation but Lillian stops him, gesturing for him to not move, which he obeys.

"Nate shrugs. I don't really care."

Lillian smiles coldly. "Well." He says "Let us hope your mind changes." Nate just smiles at the professor.