The grand gates of the Astrails Arcane Academy loomed ahead, twin towers of shimmering, enchanted obsidian rising like dark spears into the cloud-dappled sky. Beneath them, a river of carriages glittered in the afternoon light, each more ornate than the last. Gilded doors swung open to reveal the jeweled scions of Astrails' nobility: sons and daughters of ancient houses, draped in embroidered cloaks and smirking with the ease of inherited confidence.
In Astrails, status came in layers: at the top, the royal family, their power etched in their blood with the hereditary magic called "the Glow." Below them, the high nobility—Dukes, Marquesses, Counts, Viscounts, and Barons—each ruling their slice of land and politics like a personal empire. The gentry—knights and baronets—sat beneath them, still noble but barely. Everyone else? Commoners. Merchants, farmers, soldiers, dreamers. A system carved in stone, reinforced by generations of magic and arrogance.
Ace Dragnell stood at the edge of it all, a solitary figure with a worn leather satchel slung over his shoulder. His family's carriage—plain, wooden, and about as subtle as a tax bill—had already rolled off. No attendants. No fanfare. No family crest glowing with enchantment. Just him, standing at the threshold of a future that wasn't quite sure it wanted him.
The Dragnell name didn't echo in the halls of power. It didn't command fear, or envy, or even curiosity. It was a name barely remembered outside the fog-laced hills of the eastern marches. A low-tier noble house in both reputation and resources, with a seat at the noble table only because someone had left the door open too long.
As Ace stepped forward, the grand courtyard opened like a stage before him. Students clustered in groups already, some forming the tight orbits of future alliances, others standing awkwardly at the periphery. Fountains murmured. Birds sang in the towering white pines that shaded the central lawn. Somewhere nearby, an elemental wind sculpture spun lazily, feeding power to floating lanterns shaped like phoenixes.
Ace didn't get far before trouble found him.
A sharp voice cracked across the air like a spell miscast. "Watch where you're going, commoner."
Ace turned, his brows lifting just a bit.
The speaker was tall, almost annoyingly elegant, with dark hair swept back in a style that probably took three servants and a mirror enchanted for optimal lighting. His robes bore the rich emerald and silver sigil of House Valerius—one of the ducal lines, if Ace remembered right. Elemental heavyweights. Arrogance practically baked into their bloodline.
Behind the boy stood two other nobles, identical in their smugness but clearly orbiting him like moons around a particularly pompous sun.
"My apologies," Ace said smoothly, his tone level. His hands remained at his sides, relaxed, his posture just deferential enough to pass muster—but not by much. His eyes held a glint. Not fear. Not even irritation.
Just calculation.
The Valerius heir—Lysander, Ace was fairly sure—arched a brow at Ace's plain attire, letting his gaze linger just long enough to make the insult land.
"Apologies won't polish a scuffed boot," Lysander said, his voice like silk stretched over a dagger. "Some of us have standards to uphold, unlike... well." He trailed off with a tight little smile, as if the conclusion were self-evident.
His friends snorted. Ace gave a small, patient smile, dipping his head in a manner that walked a razor-thin line between courteous and mocking.
"I'll endeavor to be more mindful," he said lightly.
Lysander narrowed his eyes, as if debating whether to push further. But Ace had given just enough submission to make pressing the issue look petty. And nobles hated looking petty almost as much as they hated losing.
"See that you do," Lysander said coldly. "The Academy has enough riff-raff without you tripping over your own relevance."
He turned on his heel, his entourage flanking him like hounds in formation, their laughter trailing behind them like a bad perfume.
Ace watched them go, expression unreadable. Then, once they were out of earshot, he exhaled, a small, sardonic smile curling at the corner of his mouth.
"Man, I just got here and I'm already dealing with the high pigs," he muttered under his breath. "Bad luck? Or just tradition at this point."
He shook his head, amused in spite of himself, and adjusted the strap of his satchel. That little encounter had been a warning shot—but also an opportunity. Now he had a name. A face. A target.
Let them look down on him now.
He'd make sure they all had to look up later.
Ace continued forward, weaving through the courtyard as the Academy began to stir around him. The scent of old spellbooks, polished stone, and foreign incense drifted on the breeze. Arcane energy shimmered faintly in the air, like static waiting to be triggered.
He glanced at his hand briefly as he walked—no one would notice. No one would see the way his skin briefly shimmered, molecular threads twitching beneath the surface like a living engine.
They didn't know what he was. Not yet.
But they would.
"Let's start the party."
Ace Dragnell - Initial Status
* Name: Ace Dragnell
* Noble Status: Low-Tier Noble
* Age: 16 (First Year Student)
* Strength: D
* Agility: D
* Endurance: C
* Intelligence: S
* Willpower: A
* Charisma: D
* Arcane Power: C
* Abilities:
* Unique Ability: Molecular Disassembly & Regeneration (Untrained - some basic control achieved)
* Description: The innate power to disassemble one's body to a molecular or even atomic level and reassemble it at will. Can regenerate from a single cell or atom. Can reassemble specific body parts, which will possess the same inherent power as the main body. This ability is currently raw and unrefined, its full potential unknown even to Ace, but he has begun to exercise rudimentary control over it. At this stage, it manifests without any apparent drawbacks.
* Elemental Affinities: Fire,Air,Lighting
* Skills:
* Basic Self-Defense (C)
* Survival (Wilderness - from his manor's remote location) (D)
* Weapon forging (B-)
* Reputation: Unknown / Low-Tier Noble (among students)
* Silver Crowns: 300