The uniform tent stood just ahead, marked with a glowing banner that lazily shifted between Fittings and Issued Gear. Unlike the mana stations, this one had actual staff. Robed tailors moved briskly between stations, measuring, floating fabric, occasionally barking at students who dared wrinkle a cuff or step off the marked rune circles.
Kez stepped in and was immediately hit with the sharp scent of enchanted fabric and steam. A magical measuring tape uncoiled the moment he crossed the threshold and whipped around him before he could flinch.
"Hey whoa! Ask first, damn."
A tall woman with a floating clipboard looked up from the side of the tent. Her expression was unreadable, like someone who'd long since stopped caring about complaints.
"Name," she said.
"Kez Jolkev."
She tapped the clipboard once. "Wind affinity. Fire trace. Low mana stability. Hmm." She looked him over like she was evaluating a bent coat hanger.
"Got a problem?" Kez asked, raising a brow.
"No," she replied, "just making sure we don't give you anything flammable."
"Thats...actually pretty smart." he contemplated with a thoughtful expression.
Another measuring rune lit up beneath his feet. The magical tape tightened slightly and then zipped away.
"Size registered. Hold still."
A pair of gloves floated from a nearby shelf, followed by a standard-issue black uniform coat with faint white detailing and the TROP crest stitched into the left sleeve. It landed in his arms with a thump.
The woman handed him a folded undershirt and a belt with a small mana-inscribed buckle. "You will be living in the Orlin wing. Head over there for your room number. Also, do not tamper with the enchantments. Do not lose the badge stitched inside. If this uniform catches fire, explodes, or floats away, return it immediately."
Kez looked at her, deadpan. "That last one happen often?"
She didn't answer.
Instead, she waved the next student forward and turned away, already done with him.
Kez stepped out of the tent a minute later, arms full of gear, and sighed. The crowd had mostly dispersed by now. The chaos he'd stirred up earlier was already being replaced by fresh awkward moments and minor disasters as new students were processed.
He found a bench near the edge of the plaza, dropped the pile onto it, and sat down hard.
So far: no bed, no schedule, two almost-enemies, and one broken mana orb.
He glanced at the ID in his pocket. His picture was one taken from his driver's license. It also looked pretty stupid.
He leaned back and stared up at the enormous glowing crest spinning slowly above the towers.
"Great start," he muttered. "Definitely not cursed."
He closed his eyes for a second and let the wind ruffle his hair a little.
"...Also still better than Water," he added, to no one in particular.
A few nearby students turned at that, but no one said anything. He stayed where he was, half-sprawled, half-aware, watching the plaza churn and thin.
Then—
Something shifted.
The noise didn't die, but it softened. Conversations turned quiet. Movements slowed. Not because anything had been announced. Just because they had arrived.
Kez felt it before he saw them.
And when he did, it hit like a scene from a novel—because it was one.
Cael Sorein. Eva Sol. Dren Talvek. Yla Ferren.
They walked across the plaza like they belonged to a different world stitched into this one. Not floating. Not magical. Just… inevitable.
Cael was in front, sharp as ever, long coat trailing, surgical lines of silver tracing his jaw like static scars. His expression unreadable. His attention razor-thin and aimed nowhere—but somehow slicing everything.
To his right, Eva Sol moved like every step had been rehearsed. Her hair caught the light and played with it. Her dress shifted fluidly between soft golds and metallic hues like it was trying to impress her. She wasn't smiling yet, but she looked like she could, if the moment amused her.
Behind them was Dren, straight-backed, gaze forward. He didn't scan the crowd. He didn't need to. Everyone else adjusted their posture the moment he walked past.
And Yla… She walked just a little behind, silent and balanced, her black coat unmoving even with the breeze. She didn't stare anyone down. She didn't even look around.
But people looked at her.
Kez didn't feel too surprised to see them, but he had unconsciously sat up straighter on the bench. He'd read this scene. He knew this moment. This wasn't their first appearance. This was their establishment shot. The moment the narrative bent to make room for them. But seeing it in real life was kind of funny.
"…Why do they always move like a tetrahedral molecule," he muttered, amused. "Four bonded atoms around one missing central element, zero lone pairs, perfectly balanced and completely untouchable. Hahaha"
They passed by a few feet away.
He expected them to ignore him entirely. But as Cael drew closer, his head turned the smallest amount. Just a flicker of attention, no more than a second—but enough to land.
Kez met his eyes.
It felt like staring into an engine core mid-ignition. Cold and distant and humming with unreadable energy.
Then Eva glanced his way too. She blinked once—slow, precise—and tilted her head ever so slightly, almost amused. She didn't smile. Just looked.
That alone was somehow worse.
Behind them, Dren gave him a once-over. His gaze lingered for a second longer than the others. Not critical. Not hostile. Just… analyzing. The way you might glance at a closed book and guess what genre it was.
Yla didn't even glance at him.
Not once.
But somehow, he still felt measured.
Weighed.
Filed away.
He simply smiled back at them.
They passed him in silence. But the moment they did, Kez felt a kind of invisible current dragging behind them, like the space they moved through didn't immediately reset.
He let out a breath.
And then—of course—the air shifted again.
Footsteps. Calm. Even. Confident.
Jack.
He approached from the opposite side of the plaza, cutting across the flagstones at an angle that seemed both deliberate and entirely effortless. He wore the TROP uniform, but not like a uniform. The coat was unbuttoned. His sleeves were rolled up. His shirt was untucked. There was a faint scuff on his boots.
He looked like he hadn't even tried—and still looked better than half the students here. And of course, a massive crowd followed him.
The Core Four turned.
Not sharply. Just enough.
Cael's eyes narrowed. Dren stood a little straighter. Eva actually smiled.
Yla didn't move, but Kez noticed the subtle shift in how she held herself.
Jack slowed to a stop right beside them.
For a second, no one spoke.
Then Eva said, voice light and dry, "So you did show up."
Jack's expression didn't change. "You thought I wouldn't?"
"We took bets," Cael said, almost lazily.
"Who lost?"
"Dren," Eva said, before Dren could answer.
"I didn't bet," Dren replied flatly.
"That's what makes it funny," Eva murmured.
Jack gave a small nod. "Touché."
Then, for the second time in a minute, Jack turned his head—just slightly—and made eye contact with Kez.
Kez stared back, unimpressed.
Jack didn't say anything. Just held the look a moment longer, then turned back to the group.
They were just about to walk again when, from the bench, Kez spoke—casual, but loud enough for it to carry.
"Are you not going to apologize?"
The words sliced clean through the plaza.
The Core stopped.
Cael's head turned first, slow and deliberate. Eva paused mid-step, her gaze sharpening with sudden interest. Dren looked over, still unreadable. Even Yla turned—not sharply, but with clear intent.
Jack glanced back, his brow ticking up.
"…For what?"
Kez was still sprawled out on the bench, one leg half-draped over the armrest like he had nowhere better to be. He stared at Jack without blinking.
"For punching me," he said. "Last night. At the party. After I allegedly got too close to some very, very controversial skewer."
He let the sentence hang for a moment, then added, without blinking, "And for stealing my ID."
The silence that followed was crystalline.
Eva lit up instantly. "Oh, he's that guy."
"I am pretty sure you recognized me already. Why add all this drama? So where is my apology?" Kez asked lazily.
Jack blinked once. "You were trying to eat the dessert table with your face."
"I was appreciating the craftsmanship. Respectfully. Like any invited guest."
"Were you invited?"
"Why else would I be there?"
"You were slurring insults at the caterers."
"They looked judgmental."
"You called me a boot brand."
"Is that a denial?"
A snort of laughter broke from somewhere behind them. One of the students near the center of the plaza quickly covered their mouth.
Cael exhaled quietly through his nose; it was unclear if he was bored or amused.
Eva coughed into her fist, very obviously not a cough.
Dren said nothing, but his stare was focused now. Evaluating.
Yla didn't move at all, but her gaze flicked down.
Jack sighed.
"You said some shitty things about me."
"Aww did you fweeling get hurt? How old are you again, twelve?"
More laughter now. Scattered, hesitant, but growing.
Jack inhaled slowly, trying to not show any reaction. "And now you think I stole your ID?"
Kez pointed lazily. "Let's look at the facts. I had it. You punched me. I woke up without it. Who's the common variable here, Sherlock?"
'Actually, I think I left my ID back home. Well, doesn't hurt to blame it on someone else. I doubt I can get any closer to this guy...I already burned that bridge. Let's just piss him off cause that's fun.'
More murmuring in the crowd. One student muttered, "He's got a point."
Jack stared at Kez for a long second.
Then said, "Fine. I'm sorry."
Kez blinked. "Really?"
Jack's expression didn't change. "Sorry I didn't hit you harder."
The crowd erupted. Quiet at first, then louder. Not mean, not cruel—just stunned.
Kez tilted his head, clearly weighing his next words.
But then he suddenly broke down laughing.
"Your feelings definitely got hurt, bahahaha," he wheezed. "Fucking idiot. You stood there, brooding like a broken heirloom, and that's your comeback?"
The crowd was losing it now. Some students had actually stopped walking entirely. A second-year near the fountain dropped their mana tablet and didn't even notice. One guy muttered, "Oh my god," while another whispered, "He's trying to get killed."
Jack didn't move. His posture was the same—still, composed—but the muscle at his jaw twitched once. Just once.
Eva turned her head slightly to look at Jack, eyebrows raised, half-grin forming. Cael was watching Kez now like one might watch a raccoon hijack a nuclear launch console—fascinated, deeply concerned, possibly entertained.
Dren said quietly, "Do we intervene?"
"No," Eva murmured. "He's doing this to himself."
Yla hadn't moved. But her hand had shifted ever so slightly—just enough for her fingers to hover an inch closer to the hilt at her side.
Kez wiped his eyes with the back of his wrist, still grinning like a lunatic. "God, the main character syndrome is insane. What, you gonna hit me again? In broad daylight? You think the second time's gonna magically fix your fragile honor complex?"
Jack's silence stretched long enough to be dangerous.
Then he took a slow, measured step forward.
The crowd instinctively pulled back. A ripple of tension spread like heat off pavement.
Kez didn't budge.
He even leaned forward, elbows on knees, expression pure mockery. "Go on, Mr. Main Character. Give me another lesson. Try it..."
Jack stopped two feet from him.
"What is your problem?" he asked, voice low and even. "Why are you always trying to piss me off?"
Kez didn't flinch.
"Or are you just too easily pissed off?" Kez questioned back with a mocking expression.
Jack exhaled through his nose and turned away.
"I'm done with this." He walked off, rejoining the Core without another word.
Cael smirked. Eva looked over her shoulder one last time with a slight smile. Dren walked as if none of it had happened. Yla didn't look back.
"Are we still going to the hall?", Eva asked.
Cael said, "We should. Before the speech starts."
Kez silently watched them as they moved towards the Orlin wing and sighed.
'Yup. Definitely cursed.'
Half the students burst into gasping, barely-controlled laughter. Others scrambled to repeat the exchange to anyone who had missed it. Someone was already typing a summary into their wrist panel.
One nearby student gawked at him. "Dude, what the hell is wrong with you?"
Kez looked at them sideways. "Well, I need my ID back. What else am I supposed to do?"
A pause.
"…Did he actually steal your ID?"
Kez didn't affirm. He leaned back again, closed his eyes, and let the buzz of attention swirl around him like he didn't have a care in the world—like he hadn't just insulted the most dangerous student on campus in front of everyone.
Truth be told, he didn't really hate Jack, but Jack was a very interesting character in his heart. He had been reading the novel for close to ten years so obviously, the main characters held at least some meaning to him. His favorability of Jack wasn't as simple as good or bad. It was extremely complicated. Even he didn't fully understand it. All he did understand was that it was fun pissing him off.
'Usually that wouldn't be enough of a case for me to actually do it but it's perfect for this route. My character should be somewhat imitating a rabid clown. At least, until the next phase.'
"Looks like you set a bigger record than me, mate."
Kez opened one of his eyes to look at the person. He really didn't need to look at the person to identify him.
"Thanks for showing me how to."
Ley laughed. "I might have misjudged you last night."
"Oh? How so?" Kez asked, finally sitting up and brushing some invisible dust off his coat.
Ley took a few lazy steps closer, hands still in his pockets. "I figured you were a guy who knew how to keep his head down. Brains over brawn type. But now I feel like you are just here for the sake of chaos."
Kez shrugged. "Why limit someone to some static characteristics? People are usually very dynamic."
Ley gave him a long look, head slightly tilted. "Right. Almost forgot some people are just walking volatility equations."
Kez stretched his arms behind his head. "That's still a type of character."
"I guess so." Ley smirked faintly. "The kind that triggers most academy lockdown protocols."
Kez stood, slow and loose, as if he hadn't just been the center of a student-wide spectacle. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
Ley took a step back, keeping his hands in his pockets as they started walking together. "It's a… memorable thing."
They reached the edge of the plaza, where the massive double doors of Orientation Hall A shimmered under layered glyphs. Students were moving inside in twos and threes, most of them glancing back at Kez like he was a creature in a zoo enclosure with a 'Do Not Feed' sign.
Ley slowed just before the entrance. "You know Jack's not going to let this go, right?"
Kez exhaled slowly. "Probably not. Guy doesn't look it, but I bet he is pretty vengeful."
Ley tilted his head, amused. "So, you do know. You know most people try not to make enemies on the first day."
"And most people don't get remembered either."
That earned a slow nod from Ley, as if confirming something he'd suspected. "You are something else, mate. You're definitely playing something. Haven't decided if it's genius or self-destruction."
Kez glanced sideways. "You talk as if you are deciding whether you should invest in me or not."
Ley didn't answer immediately.
They stepped through the threshold together, glyphs humming quietly above them, and into the cool, high-ceilinged space of the orientation hall.
Inside, the hall was enormous — built like a spell-forged amphitheater. Rows of elevated seating climbed the sides of a circular chamber, all angled toward a wide platform at the center. Magical runes pulsed in the walls. The ceiling stretched high overhead, dark and endless.
Students were filing in, calling to each other, checking lists. Kez spotted the Orlin section and nodded toward it. A few students followed behind him, hoping to get first row seats to whatever he does next.
Kez stuffed his hands into his pockets. "You know, if you're still deciding whether I'm worth the gamble, now's a good time to walk away. No shame in self-preservation."
Ley didn't even slow. "If I were that cautious, I wouldn't have said hi."
"So, you already put money in."
Ley's eyes flicked toward him. "Not quite. But I'm curious."
"About me?"
"No," Ley said dryly. "About what it looks like when someone derails an entire institution in the first week."
"Ah so you were after the VIP seat."
They reached the Orlin section, a row of mostly empty seats near the back. A few cadets were already seated, pretending not to glance at Kez, though their eyes kept shifting toward him every few seconds like he might combust again at any moment.
Kez sat first.
Ley dropped into the seat next to him with a dramatic sigh, arms stretched out across the backs of the chairs. "This feel like the start of something big to you?"
"It feels like the start of detention," Kez muttered.
Ley glanced at him. "You planning to behave during this?"
Kez gave him a serene look. "I plan to listen."
Ley narrowed his eyes. "You didn't say quietly."
"Remember," Ley said as he followed, "there are other routes besides chaos."
"Hmm," Kez replied, not letting Ley's choice of word go unnoticed.
The lights overhead dimmed slightly — not into darkness, but into focus. The glow of the ceiling runes intensified, shifting hue as lines of script restructured themselves across the chamber's high stone walls. A faint pressure settled over the room, like the air itself was holding its breath.
A deep tone resonated once. Not loud, not sharp — just undeniable.
The room quieted.
A soft ripple of movement passed through the amphitheater as the final stragglers slipped into their seats, and the center platform flared to life with a slow, rising ring of golden light. Mana constructs shimmered outward, forming a flat disc above the stage — a projection screen suspended in air, its surface smooth as glass.
Kez leaned back in his seat, hands laced behind his head. "Here comes the mandatory motivational speech. Can't wait to be told I'm the future."
"I doubt they wrote this one with you in mind," Ley murmured.
A figure stepped onto the platform.
She wore the formal uniform of a high-ranking faculty member — long coat lined with silver, shoulder crests subtly engraved with enchantment circles. Her presence was sharp, controlled. Not stern. Just… settled. Like someone who had nothing to prove, and knew that was power enough.
The projection disc flickered, casting her face in magnified detail high above the hall.
"Welcome, cadets," she said.
Her voice echoed without force, perfectly balanced by magic — crisp, rich, and undeniably precise. It cut through the chamber without raising itself, like it was being spoken directly into the minds of every student present.
"You stand at the threshold of TROP — the place where theory and impact collides. You were selected not just for potential, but for momentum. For what follows when power meets direction."
Kez snorted softly under his breath. "Well, that rules me out."
Ley snickered.
The speaker continued. "Some of you will rise. Some of you will falter. Many of you will change. That is not a threat. It is a promise. This institution does not bend to accommodate you — it demands you reshape yourself to survive it."
Murmurs rippled across the seating levels. A few students shifted in their chairs. Others sat up straighter.
Ley leaned forward again, resting his chin on one hand. "That wasn't too bad."
"She's not here to impress you," Kez said.
The projection disc shifted again — images flickering across it now. Scenes of training fields, of students casting spells mid-air, of duels sparking against layered wards. A campus that didn't just teach magic, but sharpened it into something weaponized.
"This is the place where legends begin," the speaker said. "But legends are not born whole. They are carved. Tested. Broken and reforged."
The speech continued for another few minutes — high, ceremonial, tightly measured. There were no jokes. No moments of levity. Just a steady sense that everything from here on out would be very, very real.
And then, just as the tension reached a near-perfect strain, the speaker gave a crisp nod and said,
"Orientation squads will be posted shortly. Your paths begin now. Welcome to TROP."
The light flared once, then faded.
Silence hung for a heartbeat.
Then students began moving again — talking, checking their ID panels, murmuring to each other in tones both excited and uneasy.
The two of them started moving with the rest of the crowd, swallowed by the buzz of shifting conversations and new beginnings.
Outside, the glyph-lit sky was just starting to dim.
TROP had officially begun.