The dining hall doors swing open.
A hush ripples through the room, subtle but unmistakable—the way wind stills before a storm. Conversations stutter into silence. Even the Fire mages' braziers seem to dim, their flames bowing like subjects before a crown.
Eleven figures stride in, their footsteps echoing with the weight of generational privilege. The noble-born students, each one a scion of houses that have shaped empires.
Their uniforms are different. Not the standard-issue garments of regular students, but tailored masterpieces—silks woven with elemental sigils, hems lined with precious metals that chime softly with every step. I remember each of them clearly.
Belonging to the House of Ignis:
Third Year Duke Alexander Valtor. Coming from the Valtor Household. A sharp-jawed prodigy with molten amber eyes that glow faintly, even in daylight. His crimson robes are embroidered with phoenix feathers that smolder at the edges, on his belt a flame-whip coiled—a family heirloom said to contain a captured wildfire.
First Year Princess Seraphyne Valmont. Coming from the Valmont dynasty, the first of the 3 Great Kingdoms. Her hair is a living flame, a combination of gold, orange and blood-red. Around her neck, a dragon-scale choker that suppresses her volatile magic—without it, she once accidentally burned down a banquet hall during a toast.
Second Year Duke Varian Ambustum, Herining from the Ambustum Household. A hulking figure with scarred arms from forging his own armor in the royal forges. His blade, Hellfang, ignites naturally when drawn. He bears a deep burn across his throat—a self-inflicted "reminder" of his mortality.
Belonging to the House of Goran:
Fourth Year Duchess Irelia Natura. Coming from the Natural Household. She is a gift of mother nature, with skin as smooth as fine soil and a crown of fossilized roots. She possesses plant green hair that pairs perfectly with her xanadu robes.
First Year Lord Marcus Vena Ferrea. Coming from the Vena Ferrea Household. He is tall and gaunt. Simply put, the peak physique of humanity. His fingers tipped with mana reinforced obsidian claws that can carve through stone. A cloak stitched with veins of gold mined from his family's mountains.
Second Year Lady Elira Ashvale. Coming from the Ashvale Household. She is a petite but her voice carries the command of landslides and the gentleness of falling leaves, indescribable. But do not let looks deceive, she is a master tactician that combats both physically and mentally with her spirit taming talent. Her tea parties are infamous for starting political debates
Belonging to the House of Nereza:
Fourth Year Capitaine Caspian Tideborn. Coming form the Tideborn Household. He is a pale and androgynous individual, with irises that shift like tide pools. Adorned on his head. a coral crown embroidered with jewels of the land. His trident on his back, Abyss, grandiose, almost as if whispering the secrets of the ocean.
First Year Princess Lysandra Elenos, Coming from the kingdom at the center of the world. She is the heir to the dynasty of the Elenos's. The only way to describe her is a storm in human form. Her navy-blue hair cascades like crashing waves, streaked with silver to mimic lightning. She wears a cloak of kelp, dried and spun into a cape.
First Year Lord Theron Maris. Coming from the Maris Household. He possesses a lean frame and eyes like a vast sea, one blue and one a darker blue. His hands are tattooed with riptide magical circuits that glow when he channels mana.
And finally, belonging to the House of Sylvas:
First Year Lady Celeste Von Ventus: The undisputed heir of the Ventus Household, with a presence as commanding as a thunderhead. Her platinum-blonde hair cascades in waves. Her eyes are twin tempests—silver irises spiraling into voids of obsidian. Her uniform is crafted from storm spun silk, its edges fraying into ethereal mist.
First Year Princess Leona Aurelthane. The final royal from the 3 Great Kingdoms of magic. Coming from the Aurelthane Dynasty A tempest given human form, Her wind-attuned lineage so pure it's said her ancestors could summon hurricanes with a whisper. Her uniform is silver threads swirling through indigo fabric, the crest of her house—a falcon mid-dive—picked out in sapphires at her collar.
Those in the second year of higher sit at a raised platform that's stood empty until now. Plates placed before them—not the hearty servings we got, but delicate compositions of chilled fruits and meats cut so thin they're translucent.
The enrolling nobles and royalty take their seat with us in the first year section. But I'm sure by their expression that they are dying to sit with the others. Both Lady Celeste Von Ventus and Princess Leona Aurelthane approaches the Sylvas First Years. Their presence causes all to make space for their comfort, bowing respectfully in a measly attempt to gain any form of recognition from them.
But me? I do it out of a means to an end. Why?
Because I know him, the one who will throw open those doors with the weight of destiny behind him. The one who will one day command more authority than every noble in this hall combined, their bloodlines and titles crumbling before his resolve. And I know that his arrival is imminent.
Then—the doors swing open.
The imposing figure I anticipated, the boy who stumbles in, all elbows and apologies.
"S-Sorry! The, uh—the campus was just so big—"
He catches his foot on the threshold, barely saving his dignity from catastrophe with a shameful trip. The nobles sneer; a Goran brute mutters "clod" into his ale. But do not let looks deceive you dear friend. He's no noble. No, he's like me—a random commoner with dirt still clinging to his cheap boots, his uniform hanging loose where the tailor couldn't hide its second hand stitching. His hair is a lost battle against the wind, and his smile is too earnest by half.
But when he lifts his head, there's something in his eyes—a spark even he doesn't recognize yet.
The room exhales in collective dismissal.
Fools.
He stands there—awkward, uncertain, a boy of no particular consequence. The nobles barely spare him a glance, too preoccupied with their own self-importance to recognize the truth that hums beneath his skin like a gathering storm.
This is the future king of kings.
The Unifier of the Three Great Kingdoms.
The Elemental Genius
The boy who will rewrite history.
And yet here he is—flushed with embarrassment, being hastily ushered to his seat like an afterthought, his movements stiff with the self-consciousness of someone who has spent a lifetime being told he doesn't belong. His wide eyes dart across the hall, taking in the sneers, the whispers, the way the firelight glints off gilded cutlery he's never been taught how to use.
He looks like a startled deer.
He looks like a boy.
But it looks fake?
Kael Veldt
A name chosen by the developers—"Veldt," from the Dutch veld, meaning open field. A farmer's name. A commoner's name. A reminder that great things often grow from the most unassuming soil.
There are no grand lineages here, no ancestral swords or crests heavy with legacy. Just a boy with dirt under his nails and a future too vast for any of them to comprehend.
The Main Character. The Protagonist of EAA.