Elric followed Headmistress Seraphine through the academy’s grand halls, his mind a whirl of thoughts and emotions. The weight of what she’d told him—of who he might be—felt surreal, as if he were balancing on a tightrope between two realities. He glanced at the portraits lining the walls, each figure seemingly watching him with knowing eyes.

They stopped before a set of enormous doors, carved with symbols that pulsed faintly with magical energy. Elric felt a jolt as he gazed at the inscriptions; somehow, he could almost read them, each line of script teasing at long-buried knowledge.

“Here we are,” Seraphine said, her voice slicing through his thoughts. “This is the Hall of Aspirants. It’s where all new students face their first challenge at Boundless Academy.”

Elric looked at her in confusion. “A… challenge?”

“Yes.” Her lips curved into a slight smile. “At Boundless, we only accept those who show true promise. You may have the soul of the Archmage, Elric, but you still need to prove yourself.”

Before he could respond, she waved a hand, and the doors creaked open, revealing a vast, circular arena. The air inside was thick with tension, the scent of burning magic and charred earth unmistakable. Elric stepped inside, feeling a mix of awe and trepidation as he took in the sight.

The arena was surrounded by stone stands where other students—some young, some already looking battle-worn—watched in anticipation. His gaze shifted to the center, where other aspirants were already facing trials, battling magical constructs that shifted between forms, from winged serpents to flame-clad giants.

“Your task is simple,” Seraphine said, her voice steady. “Defeat the construct assigned to you and demonstrate a level of control over your magic. This is the first test of many.”

Elric swallowed, his hands tightening into fists. “And if I fail?”

“Then you will leave here, stripped of whatever magic you possess,” she replied, her tone uncompromising. “We do not tolerate weakness in this academy.”

He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest. He’d barely adjusted to the fact that he was in this strange world, let alone grappled with the idea that he was once a legendary mage. But deep down, he felt a flicker of excitement—a challenge, a chance to awaken the power he felt stirring within.

“Very well,” he said, forcing confidence into his voice.

Seraphine motioned to the arena floor, where an instructor in dark robes gestured for Elric to step forward. As he walked, he felt the eyes of hundreds of students on him, their gazes a mix of curiosity and skepticism.

“Elric Cross, is it?” the instructor asked, his tone impassive. “Your construct will test your resilience and adaptability. Show us what you’re made of.”

With a wave of the instructor’s hand, the air before Elric shimmered. A form began to materialize—a hulking creature of stone and metal, its eyes glowing with an unnatural red light. It towered over him, its body lined with jagged spikes and ancient runes.

Elric’s heart hammered in his chest as he stared up at the creature. It moved with an unnatural grace, each step sending tremors through the ground. Despite its size, it was agile, shifting its stance as if assessing him.

“Begin!” the instructor shouted.

Without hesitation, the construct lunged, its massive fist crashing down toward him. Elric barely dodged, rolling to the side as dust and debris exploded around him. His mind raced—he didn’t know any spells, didn’t even know if he could summon a basic shield.

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But then, something stirred within him, a flicker of memory and instinct. Images flashed through his mind: sigils, incantations, and the feeling of raw power coursing through him.

The construct swung again, and Elric instinctively raised a hand, willing something—anything—to protect him. A faint, shimmering barrier formed before him, absorbing the impact but shattering instantly under the force. He staggered back, feeling the strain in his body.

“You need to focus,” he muttered to himself, clenching his fists. The fragmentary memories taunted him, snippets of spells he couldn’t fully recall.

The construct charged, moving faster than he anticipated. Elric threw himself sideways, rolling across the ground and narrowly avoiding a deadly strike. He forced himself up, breathing heavily, his mind racing. He couldn’t afford to just dodge forever.

As he rose, he closed his eyes for a brief moment, focusing inward, searching for that wellspring of power he’d felt in the hall. This time, he didn’t try to remember spells or incantations. He simply reached for the power, letting it rise within him like a flame.

When he opened his eyes, a faint glow surrounded his hands.

The construct charged again, and Elric thrust his hand forward. A bolt of energy shot from his palm, striking the creature in the chest. The impact staggered it, cracks spreading across its stone surface. Elric felt a surge of triumph, the thrill of wielding magic coursing through him.

But the construct wasn’t done. It roared, its red eyes blazing as it raised both arms, preparing a devastating strike. Elric’s heart pounded as he raised his hand again, summoning another blast of energy, this one brighter, stronger.

The bolt struck the construct just as it swung down, the force of the magic shattering its arm into fragments. The creature stumbled, its form beginning to crumble, but it wasn’t defeated yet. It lunged one final time, its remaining arm swinging with desperate fury.

Elric focused, the energy in his hand coalescing into a sphere. At the last second, he threw it, the spell detonating in a burst of light and force. The construct shattered, its pieces scattering across the arena floor, and a silence fell over the stands.

He stood there, breathing heavily, his hand tingling with residual energy. He’d done it—somehow, he’d tapped into his power, even if just a fragment of it. The thrill of magic pulsed through him, and for the first time, he felt like he belonged here.

The instructor nodded approvingly. “Impressive, for a first attempt.”

The stands erupted in whispers, students casting him appraising and curious looks. Elric caught a few envious glances, and even the headmistress seemed pleased.

Seraphine approached him, her gaze thoughtful. “It seems the spirit of the Archmage is indeed alive within you,” she said quietly, though there was a hint of a warning in her tone. “But remember, this was just the first step. You have a long path ahead.”

He nodded, a newfound resolve settling in his chest. Whatever mysteries lay in his past, whatever destiny awaited him here, he was ready to face it. He could feel the power lurking within him, waiting to be unlocked. For the first time in his life—or perhaps, lives—he felt the stirrings of purpose.

As Seraphine led him out of the arena, he was approached by several students, each one exuding an aura of authority and intrigue. A tall girl with noble features stepped forward first, her gaze intense and appraising.

“I am Lira Valen,” she said, her voice cool and measured. “I’ve never seen someone wield such raw power without formal training. You intrigue me, Elric Cross.”

Another figure, a girl with an enigmatic smile and a long braid, leaned against a nearby pillar, observing him with a gleam of curiosity. “I’m Kaela,” she said, her voice soft but carrying a playful edge. “That was quite a display. You’ll be interesting to watch.”

Elric felt a flicker of uncertainty under their scrutiny, but he straightened, meeting their gazes. The thrill of his first taste of magic still lingered, giving him a surge of confidence.

“Nice to meet you both,” he replied, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’m… new to all of this, but I’ll do my best.”

Lira’s gaze lingered a moment longer, as if measuring his worth, before she nodded. “Then perhaps I’ll see you in advanced combat practice. You could use some polish.”

She turned and walked away, her steps precise and graceful. Kaela lingered a moment longer, giving him a small smile before sauntering off.

As the crowd dispersed, Elric found himself alone once more, a strange sense of satisfaction settling over him. His mind raced with the possibilities that awaited him—the power, the knowledge, the challenges.

And somewhere, deep within, he felt the faintest echo of his past self, urging him forward.

The journey had only just begun, but he was ready.