BEGINNING OF THE PROLOGUE ARC

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A low hum resonated in Elric’s ears, a pulse beating against the inside of his skull. It was as if the very air was thrumming with some energy he couldn’t grasp—a vibration he could feel but not name. A second ago, he’d been in a familiar scene, seated by his bedroom window in the late afternoon, eyes half-closed in a daze brought on by a long day of school. But now, shadows swirled around him like ink in water, an oppressive force squeezing his chest and stealing his breath.

When his eyes finally opened, the world around him was anything but ordinary.

Instead of his small bedroom, he was in a massive hall. The arched ceiling stretched so high above him, he couldn’t make out where it ended, only that chandeliers as large as the school’s gymnasium hung from invisible rafters, casting a dim, eerie light across the room. Rough stone pillars, decorated with intricate runes he instinctively understood yet didn’t recognize, lined the space like silent guardians.

“Elric Cross,” a voice called. Deep and booming, it echoed through the hall like a summons.

Elric blinked, his heart pounding as he looked around for the source. Before him, shadowy figures began to take shape, stepping out from behind the pillars, their forms shifting between human and something far less comprehensible. Hooded cloaks concealed their faces, but Elric felt a primal fear gripping him, a sense that whatever stood before him now wielded power beyond mortal comprehension.

“You have been summoned.”

Summoned? The word rattled in his mind, striking a chord that felt... familiar. Too familiar. Memories surfaced in bits and pieces—fragments of magic spells, a labyrinthine library of arcane knowledge, a city bathed in starlight.

“I’m… Elric Cross,” he said slowly, but the words felt thin on his tongue, as though he were reciting a name that wasn’t truly his. His memories were hazy, but something deeper whispered truths buried beneath the surface.

One of the figures stepped forward, their shadowed hands raised as though in benediction. “Welcome, young one. You were called here not by chance, but by fate. You have the aura of the Archmage, Arian Falken, yet you appear as a common boy.”

Elric felt his heart skip a beat. The Archmage. A name both foreign and intimate, as though etched into his very bones. Flashes of fire, steel, and an ancient city filled his mind, each image stabbing like a needlepoint in his skull.

“What is this place?” Elric demanded, struggling to keep his voice steady. “And… who are you?”

“We are the Council of Shadows,” another figure answered, voice like a whisper of wind over stone. “Sentinels of Boundless Academy. And you, Elric Cross, possess a destiny far beyond your understanding.”

A pulse of energy surged from within him, and Elric staggered, his vision blurring. Fragments of memories—a war, a betrayal, powers he’d once wielded effortlessly—filled him with a fierce longing, a connection to something so profound he could barely contain it. He took a deep breath, steadying himself.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, though part of him did. There was an ache in his chest, a hollowness that wanted to be filled. His words rang with less conviction than he intended, and the council seemed to notice.

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“You have returned to Zephyria, your rightful home,” one of the council members said, gesturing around them. “Though you may not yet recall, your past life calls to you. Here, you shall reclaim what was once yours.”

The weight of their words settled over him, and Elric clenched his fists. The name “Zephyria” resonated, each syllable reverberating through him as if it held all the mysteries he was desperate to uncover.

“How… am I supposed to reclaim anything?” he asked, feeling the vulnerability he hated to show. He was just Elric Cross, an ordinary high school student, struggling to survive tests, friends, and chores. Or, at least, that’s who he thought he was.

As if in response, the council raised their hands in unison, chanting words that flowed like a stream of power through the room. A circle of light formed beneath Elric’s feet, illuminating symbols he’d never seen but instinctively understood. Power hummed within him, and the hollow ache transformed into a burning hunger.

“You are the Archmage reborn,” the council intoned. “Your powers lie dormant within you, waiting to awaken.”

Before he could respond, the light from the floor surged upward, engulfing him in a blinding radiance. Elric’s body felt like it was being torn apart and rebuilt from the inside out, every fiber of his being alive with energy. Memories continued to flash before his eyes—a tower filled with books, a forest lit by starlight, battles he hadn’t fought, and allies he didn’t know.

When the light faded, he found himself standing alone in a vast courtyard. The grand architecture around him was unlike anything he’d ever seen, a sprawling campus of towers, arches, and statues carved from stone so ancient it seemed to whisper secrets to those who dared listen.

“Welcome to Boundless Academy,” a voice said behind him.

Elric turned, meeting the gaze of a woman who stood regally with her arms folded. She wore an intricately decorated robe and a silver circlet on her brow, eyes gleaming with intelligence and a hint of amusement.

“Headmistress Seraphine,” she introduced herself, inclining her head slightly. “You have been granted the rare honor of studying here, though I suspect you will find our methods rather… intense.”

Elric barely heard her, his mind struggling to process the gravity of the situation. An academy? Him? Studying?

“I don’t belong here,” he blurted out. “I mean, I don’t even know how I got here.”

“You were called here,” she replied, her tone calm but firm. “This is where you are meant to be. Your path has always led here, whether you realized it or not.”

She motioned for him to follow, her steps light and assured as they walked deeper into the academy grounds. Other students moved about, some casting curious glances at him, others too engrossed in their tasks to notice. They all wore uniforms embroidered with symbols of rank and specialization—mages, warriors, summoners. Some carried enchanted weapons or familiars that hovered beside them.

As they entered a large hall lined with portraits of past academy heroes, Elric felt a strange connection to one of the paintings. It was an image of a man with fierce eyes and a regal bearing, magic swirling around him in waves. The nameplate read: Archmage Arian Falken.

“It can’t be…” he muttered, the face sparking something deep within him.

“Now you understand,” Seraphine said, her voice barely a whisper. “You are Arian Falken reborn. Though you appear as Elric Cross, your soul remembers its legacy. And here, at Boundless Academy, you will reclaim it.”

Elric felt a surge of defiance. He didn’t want a past life weighing him down, didn’t want to be some ancient legend. He was just… Elric.

But as he looked into the eyes of his former self in that portrait, he felt the pull of destiny, an undeniable force that tethered him to this place. His doubts began to fade, replaced by a growing curiosity. Perhaps this was what he’d been missing all along—a purpose, a path.

“So,” he said slowly, a faint spark of determination igniting within him, “what do I need to do?”

Headmistress Seraphine smiled, a glint of satisfaction in her eyes. “You will train, study, and compete. And when the time comes, you will face trials that will challenge not only your magic but your very soul.”

Her words settled over him, both a promise and a warning.

As they walked through the academy’s ancient halls, Elric felt a strange thrill building within him. This world was unlike anything he’d known, filled with mystery, danger, and power beyond imagining.

Whatever lay ahead, he was ready. Or at least, he would be.

For the first time in his life—or perhaps lives—Elric Cross felt a sense of belonging.