The carriage rattled to a stop like it was about to shed its wheels. Ace Dragnell kicked the door open, the worn leather of his boot finding purchase on polished stone slick with rain.
No driver. No attendants. No grand fanfare.
Just him, a faded satchel slung over his shoulder, and the thick, opulent scent of the Academy: damp marble, ancient enchantments, and the undeniable aroma of privilege.
Ace looked up.
The twin towers of Astrails clawed at the clouds, obsidian-black spires humming with arcane power. Charms glinted faintly along their edges—old wards, etched into the stone by generations of highblood families who no doubt believed they were immortal.
Biggest damn building I've seen, Ace thought, tilting his head back. His eyes drifted down to the courtyard gates, wide enough for a siege.
They were doing exactly that—except the army was nobles.
Carriages poured in, sleek things plated with gold and shimmering with sigils. Doors opened, and out stepped the jeweled scions of the Empire's wealthiest houses, all easy, confident smiles and cloaks embroidered with threads that cost more than Ace's entire village.
The nobles clustered fast—packs forming with the predatory ease of wolves, all hushed whispers and sharp side-eyes. Some were already laughing, their voices ringing with the arrogant certainty of ownership. Technically, some of them probably did.
Ace adjusted his satchel. His carriage—if you could call that creaking wooden box a carriage—was already halfway down the street. No family crest emblazoned on its splintered wood. No glowing sigils. Just an old horse that looked as tired as Ace's prospects.
Dragnell. His family name carried a quiet weight back home in the eastern marches, a history of minor lords and pragmatic warriors.
Out here? It might as well be a forgotten joke.
Ace ran a hand through his hair, shrugging off the faint prickle of nerves. One step at a time. This wasn't just about survival; it was about reclaiming something, too.
He took three.
"Watch where you're going, commoner."
Ace's boots stopped mid-step. His eyes flicked sideways, slow, measured.
The kid blocking his path looked exactly like the type that practiced sneering in the mirror. Dark hair swept back from sharp cheekbones, perfectly tailored robes in deep forest green, laced with silver sigils that glimmered like ready coin. The Valerius crest, a rearing griffin, seemed to sneer along with its owner.
House Valerius.
Dukes, Ace thought. Elemental powerhouses. Old money. Even older attitudes.
Two other guys hovered behind him, mirror images of smugness. The kind that never did their own dirty work but laughed the loudest when someone else got knocked down.
Ace sized them up. The Valerius heir—the one with the 'I'm-better-than-you' eyes—let his gaze drag over Ace's worn boots, his plain jacket, and the satchel that had seen better days. His mouth, thin and cruel, barely moved.
"Nice boots," the heir added, voice smooth like oiled steel. "Did your village run out of cobblers, or do you just like looking poor?"
His friends snorted. One of them whispered something about 'mudbloods' under his breath, just loud enough to be heard.
Ace scratched the side of his jaw, his expression unreadable. He felt a familiar, cold calm settle over him, the kind that always preceded a fight.
Arrogance makes people sloppy.
"You done, or still working on the second-grade insults?" Ace asked flatly.
The Valerius heir's practiced smile twitched, a fleeting ripple of annoyance. He stepped forward, taller than Ace by a few inches, trying too hard to loom. The faint scent of lavender and enchanted silver from his robes seemed to press in, a suffocating perfume of wealth.
"Apologies won't polish dirt," Valerius said, his eyes dropping to Ace's boots again with a dismissive flick. A subtle clenching in his jaw, visible only if you were looking closely, betrayed his irritation. "But maybe they'll keep the Academy's standards from plummeting."
Ace smiled. Just enough to show teeth. The same kind of smile he wore when dealing with wild dogs or tax collectors.
"My bad," Ace replied, voice light. "Didn't realize I was standing near the bar for 'standards.' It's… lower than expected."
The lackeys behind Valerius choked on their smirks. One jabbed the other in the ribs, whispering, "He's got teeth."
The Valerius heir's eyes darkened, weighing his next move. A faint shimmer, like heat rising from pavement, briefly outlined his hands—a subtle flex of elemental power.
Ace didn't flinch, his gaze steady, challenging, daring him to go further.
Valerius paused, then straightened his shoulders, smoothing his robes, and pasted that thin, practiced smile back on. Nobles didn't like looking petty, but they hated being humiliated more.
"See that you don't trip over your own insignificance, peasant," he said sharply, spinning on his heel.
His entourage followed, still smirking, one glancing over his shoulder to get one last look at Ace like he was some fascinating roadside carcass.
Ace waited until they were five steps away.
"If insignificance could talk," he muttered under his breath, "it'd sound exactly like that prick."
He shook his head and moved deeper into the courtyard.
Fountains whispered in the background, water twisting through marble channels shaped like phoenix wings. Birds chirped high in the white pines lining the edges, their calls barely audible over the low murmur of students forming groups.
Some were already pairing off—alliances in the making. Others stood awkward and alone, eyes darting, measuring everyone.
Ace's fingers twitched. His skin shimmered faintly for half a second—molecular threads humming under the surface.
No one noticed. Too busy watching themselves in the polished reflections.
They don't know yet, Ace thought, curling his fingers into a fist. Not just about me, but about what I'm here to do for Dragnell.
His ability buzzed under his skin, raw, chaotic, like trying to hold lightning in a paper bag.
Soon, he promised himself. They'll all know.
The shimmer faded. His body settled back to normal.
A student bumped into him, muttering something that sounded like an apology but vanished fast as they hurried off to a group of cloaked heirs in sapphire and gold.
Ace ignored them, his eyes scanning the Academy grounds.
Towers spiraled above like black spires clawing the sky. Ancient sigils gleamed faintly along the walls, layered enchantments whispering to each other across centuries. The air smelled of rain, potent magic, and too much expensive perfume.
Nobles.
Always had to overdo it.
Ace rolled his shoulders, shifting the satchel's weight, the strap digging into his collarbone. His boots scuffed over wet stone as he kept walking.
He passed under the main archway, stepping onto the Academy's central lawn.
Lanterns floated above, shaped like phoenixes, flickering with controlled flame. Intricate elemental wind sculptures spun on platforms nearby, quietly feeding power to the floating lights.
The Academy pulsed with energy. Old. Deep. Alive.
And Ace? He was the crack in the system. The nobody from a family barely scraping the edge of nobility. Forgotten house. Forgotten name.
But not for long.
"Alright," Ace muttered, lips curling at the corner, eyes sharp. "Let's start the party."
Status Window — Ace Dragnell
Name: Ace Dragnell
Age: 16
Noble Status: Low-tier (Technically counts, but barely)
Strength: D
Agility: D
Endurance: C
Intelligence: S (Only thing keeping him alive)
Willpower: A (Won't stay down)
Charisma: D (Blunt, but his wit demands attention)
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 and any long-term costs unknown even to Ace, but he has begun to exercise rudimentary control over it.
Elemental Affinities:
• Fire
• Air
• Lightning
Skills:
• Basic Self-Defense — C
• Wilderness Survival — D
• Weapon Forging — B-
Funds:
• Silver Crowns: 300 (Translation: Broke)
Reputation:
• Unknown. Low-tier noble. Easy target for the rich kids.
Let them laugh now, Ace thought, eyes flicking over the noble packs already forming power plays around him.
Soon enough, they'll be choking on it.
He flexed his fingers, letting the molecular shimmer dance across his palm for just a heartbeat.
No one saw.
Yet.