Orin Alpheratz (15 years old) Location: Solaris  Date: Year 873 / Pegasus Cycle (1) / Emperor's Day (4)

The Solaris Empire, pride of the continent of Theria, had basked in the golden age of peace for two decades. With its shining cities and rich lands, few dared to challenge its might. Yet on its farthest edge, trouble always simmered.

To the west lay the desert of Dhamarr, home to the Duradeen, nomadic warriors and mystics often called the Star Children. Though small in number, they were no mere rabble. And between them and the empire, the wild forests teemed with magical beasts.

In response, Solaris had erected a living wall of steel and iron, guarding its border from every threat. But power alone wasn't enough. To ensure the empire's future, a new kind of strength was needed.

Thus was born the Solaris Academy.

More than a school, it was a crucible. A place where the most promising youths, both soldiers and sorcerers, trained in the sacred art of summoning: forging pacts with divine beings to wield power beyond mortal limits.

But earning a place at Solaris Academy was no small feat.

Which was why Orin Alpheratz sat stiffly in the academy's vast reception hall, heart pounding like a war drum.

He tilted his head back, eyes tracing the towering ceiling above. Grand oil paintings of famed summoners and battle-hardened heroes lined the walls. Every corner of the hall whispered of prestige... and pressure.

This is it, he thought. The place where it all begins.

“Orin Alpheratz, right?” Came a clear voice.

He blinked, snapping out of his trance. Behind the tall reception desk stood a woman in official robes, leafing through a thick file.

“You're Captain Alpheratz's son?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

Orin knew that look all too well. His white hair and crimson eyes were nothing like his father's, but he'd grown used to the stares since he was a child. So, he simply nodded in silence.

“Oh, I see... A direct transfer from the military academy,” she said, her tone tinged with surprise. “That's quite rare nowadays. Your performance must've been exceptional if they placed you straight into the second year here.”

Orin clenched his fists, just a little. Her words stirred a quiet pride in him, but also the weight of expectation.

It was true. Very few had ever made the jump from the Imperial Military Academy to Solaris. Fewer still had skipped the first year entirely. But Orin had trained harder than most could imagine, driven by a dream forged in his earliest memories.

I want to be a knight like Father... No, stronger than him. Strong enough to protect everything I care about.

And then there was the other reason. The one he hadn't told anyone. Not even his father.

“This way. Follow me,” the receptionist said, turning on her heel.

They walked side by side through majestic halls lined with marble floors and golden columns that shimmered softly under floating crystal lights. The air carried a quiet hum of arcane energy, like the heartbeat of the academy itself.

Every archway, every painting, every decorative crest on the walls drew his attention. It was like stepping into a storybook.

“...And this is training room number four,” said the receptionist, gesturing casually toward a large wooden door trimmed in silver.

Orin blinked. Training room... four? Only then did he realize he hadn't heard a word she'd said up until now. His mind had been far away.

“Um, excuse me,” he said, interrupting with a note of hesitation. “Isn't it unusual for someone to transfer in during the second year?”

The receptionist stopped, giving him a slightly puzzled look, as if the answer should have been obvious.

“It is... although I wouldn't say it was something so unusual long ago...” she replied. Then her eyes lit up, her tone turning animated. “Why, take the elven princess, now Queen of Venerae, as an example! She transferred in during her second year too. Oh, what I would’ve given to be at the academy back then! But I was just a kid...”

Orin nodded politely as she rambled, though he was only half-listening. They passed room after room, and through the tall glass panels, he caught glimpses of students mid-swing with practice swords or chanting incantations that lit the air with shimmering light.

“...and even among all the summoners of her generation, she stood out during the Alchemical Wars,” the receptionist went on, clearly caught up in the nostalgia. “If you really want to be someone important, becoming a summoner is practically mandatory. It's just a shame that not everyone has the potential for it. But maybe if I married one—”

Orin wasn't listening anymore.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse through another classroom window. This time of a teacher addressing a small group of first-year students. The room looked ordinary enough. A chalkboard, desks, quiet murmurs from the students... But the man standing at the front, calmly explaining something with a faint smile—

That face. He knew it.

The tired eyes. The sharp jawline. The distinct long brown hair.

Huxley.

Orin stopped walking.

“Excuse me,” he said again, more urgently this time. “What class is this?”

The receptionist followed his gaze, blinking. “That? Just the first-year introductory class. Nothing special. Looks like they've been assigned to Professor Huxley this year.”

Huxley... It's really him.

She continued, “But you're a second-year now, so there's no need for you to attend any introductory courses. You'll be assigned to a different track.”

“I see,” Orin said quietly, suppressing the sudden rush in his chest. A small smile tugged at his lips. So this is where you've been hiding all this time... Five years. But this time, you won't slip away.

They resumed walking. At the end of the hallway, they stopped in front of an enormous golden door, engraved with images of mythical beasts: dragons, phoenixes, and spirits locked in an eternal dance.

Before opening it, the receptionist turned to him again.

“Well, this is it,” she said, flipping through the sheets in her hands. “You'll be under Professor Schedar's care from now on. He oversees the second-year knight's course.”

She paused, offering a faint smile.

“Good luck, Orin Alpheratz.”

After that, the receptionist gave him a polite wave and disappeared down the corridor, leaving Orin alone before the towering golden door.

He hesitated for a moment, then slowly reached for the handle, only for the door to swing open from the inside.

Standing there was a man in his early forties, his posture relaxed yet upright, like someone who had lived both on and off the battlefield.

“Ah, you must be Orin. Nice to meet you!” The man said, extending a hand with a welcoming grin. “My name is Asellus Schedar. I'll be your professor this year.”

“Nice to meet you, Professor Schedar,” Orin replied, shaking his hand with a respectful bow.

“But don't just stand there, come on in.”

Schedar stepped aside, and Orin entered the room. It was spacious, lined with desks and shelves stacked with scrolls, crystal-bound tomes, and various strange implements. Several desks seemed assigned to different faculty members, though none had nameplates.

I wonder if one of these belongs to Huxley...

Professor Schedar led him to a desk near the center of the room and began flipping through a pile of papers.

“Welcome to Solaris Academy,” he said, scanning the documents. “I'll be guiding you through the knight's course from here on out. Just a moment while I find today's schedule...”

He trailed off, eyes flicking over the pages.

“If you've got any questions, feel free to ask.”

Orin hesitated. He wasn't sure if now was the right time, but this was a rare opportunity, and he couldn't let it slip.

“On the way here,” he began, “I... saw a familiar face. Professor Huxley. Do you... happen to know him well?”

Schedar paused.

He looked up from the papers with mild surprise, as if expecting a question about classes or facilities, not about one of the professors of the academy.

“That's a strange question,” he said at last. “But I'd say I know him well enough.”

There was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, respect, maybe. Or wariness.

“As for anyone's past or personal matters around here... I've learned it's better not to ask too many questions.”

That only made Orin more curious.

But before he could press further, Schedar gave a small nod of satisfaction and held up a sheet of paper.

“Found it. This is your military academy record,” he said, tapping the page. “Looks like you've had quite the performance. Truly impressive.”

He set the paper down and crossed his arms.

“For today's class, we'll begin with individual combat evaluation. I'd like to see your skills firsthand, as a knight, not just a student.”

Orin straightened his posture.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. We've already wasted enough time with formalities,” Schedar said with a grin. “Class technically started several minutes ago.”

He turned toward the door, his coat fluttering slightly as he moved.

“Time to head out, Orin Alpheratz. Let's see what the son of Captain Alpheratz can really do.”

They left the teachers’lounge and began walking through the winding corridors of the academy. Sunlight streamed in from a tall window, illuminating a lush garden just beyond the glass. For a brief moment, Orin let himself be distracted by the sight of blooming azure lilies, flowers he'd only ever seen in books.

Eventually, they reached a classroom located slightly off the main hallway. As soon as they stepped inside, Orin saw about a dozen students gathered in lively conversation. Laughter echoed across the room, until Professor Schedar entered.

Silence fell like a stone.

“Today, we have a new addition to our ranks,” Schedar announced, his voice calm but firm. “Orin Alpheratz joins us directly from the military academy. I hope you'll make him feel welcome.”

Orin took a step forward and faced the class.

But then, his eyes locked onto an another familiar face, one he hadn't expected to see so soon.

Or rather, one he hoped not to see.

He was a boy about his age, with golden hair that caught the light like fire and sharp green eyes that seemed to scan everything they saw. His presence alone radiated confidence, like a young lion who had never known defeat. His name was Hector, once Orin's childhood friend. Now, they were strangers. Maybe worse.

“...I'm Orin. Nice to meet you,” he said, keeping his voice neutral as he avoided looking directly at Hector.

A few students greeted him in return, while others remained quiet. From the back, Hector clapped slowly, wearing a friendly smile that only made Orin's stomach twist.

What's with that look... acting like nothing happened...

“Very well, very well,” said Professor Schedar, motioning toward the group. “Orin, you may take a seat. And now, let's continue where we left off. This will also help our newcomer understand the difference between a summoner-in-training and a knight from the military academy.”

Schedar walked over to the side of the room and lifted a large steel shield that had been propped against the wall.

“In your first year,” he began, holding the shield aloft, “you've all learned the fundamentals of defense, a knight's foundation. In the Solaris combat style, mastery of the shield always comes before the sword. That's true whether you're training here or at the military academy.”

He set the shield down on the desk with a dull thud, then crossed his arms.

“But here's where things diverge: the art of knight skills.”

Orin knew exactly what was coming next.

Knight skills, specialized physical techniques, weren't magic, even though they required vocal activation like spells. Unlike mana-based casting, knight skills drew on the user's inner power: a mix of willpower, physical conditioning, and discipline. And although knights had their own unique techniques, other guilds, like assassins, archers, and warriors, had similar arts.

Professor Schedar looked directly at him.

“If I'm not mistaken, the military academy begins teaching these skills in the first year too, correct?”

“Yes, Professor,” Orin replied, standing straighter.

“In that case,” Schedar said with a faint smile, “would you be willing to demonstrate the skill you learned?”

Orin gave a small nod and stepped forward. The professor offered him the shield.

“No pressure,” he said gently. “Just relax and show us what you've got.”

Orin accepted the shield, feeling its weight settle naturally into his grip. He inhaled slowly and focused his stance.

It was time to remind himself, and maybe a few others in this room, why he'd made it here in the first place.