Orin Alpheratz (15 years old) Location: Solaris  Date: Year 873 / Pegasus Cycle (1) / Craftsman's Day (5)

Once they reached the uppermost seats of the dome, Orin could see two new teams descending onto the battlefield. Though he recognized a few students from the knight class, like Kuma, he didn't know anything about them personally.

“Do we really have to watch this?” Sirius yawned, stretching lazily. “I'd rather go celebrate our victory.”

Cor sighed, clearly unimpressed. “Did you even listen to what the professor said? The final result doesn't matter. The only real winner today was Hector's team, they finished without a single casualty.”

“A win is a win,” Sirius shrugged with a smug grin.

Professor Velorum, who was still standing with them and quietly enjoying their banter, gently patted Orin on the back.

“I'll give you some time to speak with your team,” he said calmly. “But once the third match starts, come see me in my seat. There's something I'd like to discuss.”

“All right,” Orin replied with a nod.

With that, Velorum walked off, disappearing among the higher rows of seats.

“What do you think he wants to talk about?” Cor asked, clearly intrigued.

“No idea... probably just about the fight,” Orin answered, though he couldn't help but wonder what Velorum was really thinking.

Cor looked thoughtful, but before she could say more, Gina brought up something that changed the tone completely.

“We should go visit Eridus in the infirmary,” she said, her voice soft but resolute.

“Agreed,” Sirius added quickly. “Anything's better than sitting through this match.”

Cor gave Sirius a glare sharp enough to pierce armor, but instead of arguing, she just sighed and turned to Orin.

“Gina's right. We should check on him,” she said, more composed now. “Will you meet us there after your talk with the professor?”

“Yeah, don't worry,” Orin said with a smile. “I'll catch up as soon as I'm done.”

With that, his team stood and made their way down the steps, disappearing one by one into the crowd. Sirius, unsurprisingly, looked the most thrilled to leave.

Orin watched them go, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. Their time together had been short, but he'd genuinely enjoyed fighting alongside them.

But there was no time to dwell on that now. He made his way toward Professor Velorum's seat, weaving through scattered groups of students. As he walked, Velorum's voice rang out across the dome, officially announcing the final match.

Spotting Orin approaching, the professor gave a friendly wave, and Orin picked up his pace.

“First things first, what did you think of today's exercise?” Velorum asked as soon as he arrived, his expression unreadable but curious.

Orin paused. There was a lot to unpack: adrenaline, doubt, pride, tension. Too many things had happened in such a short time.

“...It was tough,” he finally admitted. “Mentally and physically.”

Velorum nodded, clearly satisfied. “Good answer. If I recall, your father is part of the League of Knights of Solaris?”

“Yes. He's a squadron captain,” Orin replied.

“Mhm. League Knights usually form squadrons made up solely of knights. But back during the Alchemical Wars, mixed-class cooperation was the key to survival. Different kingdoms, different warriors, all working together. That's why we run these exercises, so that even students from different paths learn to fight as one.”

“Wait. Alchemical Wars?” Orin blinked. “You mean you—”

“Yes,” Velorum said, eyes briefly distant with memory. “I fought in the last one. I was in my early twenties back then. But as you can see... I'm not from Solaris originally. I was born in Doselis, the city of eternal tides, under the blessing of Zeona, the elemental goddess of water.”

Doselis. Orin had only heard the name a few times in passing. A distant city across the southern seas on the continent of Maia, home to the Vicentis. He'd never met someone from there before.

Orin studied him with renewed curiosity. What brought him here?

Before he could ask, Velorum gestured to the battlefield.

“Look there,” he said. “Even though you, Hector, and Perseus tried to outthink your opponents, many students still rush in head-on without a plan.”

Sure enough, the two teams below had adopted a textbook formation: knights at the front, spellcasters and warrios behind, slamming into each other with brute force.

“Now,” Velorum said suddenly, narrowing his eyes, “can you see it?”

Orin turned to him, confused. “See... what?”

“The spells. Look closely. Don't you notice anything strange?”

Orin squinted toward the battlefield. He could see a student casting a blast of wind, but... nothing seemed off.

“I see the spells,” he said, “but... is something wrong with them?”

Velorum sighed. “I figured. But during your fight with Draco, you saw something before he cast his spells, didn't you?”

That made Orin pause. Yes... he had seen it. Before each spell, there was a glimmer of light, a line, almost like a warning of the spell's path.

“I did see something. Like a trail of light... but I can't see it now.”

“It makes sense,” Velorum said, nodding. “You haven't trained your eyes.”

“My... eyes?”

“Every eye color carries unique traits,” the professor explained. “My green eyes, for example, grant resistance to bright flashes or blinding substances. I could walk through a sandstorm without flinching. I also have a slightly wider field of view.”

Orin stared. Was that really possible?

“You're curious,” Velorum chuckled. “The more you train your eyes, the more their latent powers awaken. You can tell how much someone has trained just by how their eyes gleam.”

That explained it. The shine in Velorum's eyes was unnatural, like emerald glass lit from within.

“What about red eyes?” Orin asked, almost without thinking.

Velorum's face grew more serious.

“Red eyes are exceedingly rare,” he said carefully. “But the stories... They say those who possess them can perceive magic at its source. Trajectories, mana flow, even the nature of the caster. And some... some develop abilities so strange they defy classification. There's a saying: ‘Red-eyed ones invite the unknown.’”

Orin's mind reeled. Why had no one ever told him any of this?

As if reading his thoughts, Velorum added, “It's true the knowledge is out there, but most people don't care. For a knight, vision training is a waste of time compared to sword and shield drills. Each class has their own priorities.”

“But... wouldn't it still be an advantage?” Orin pressed.

“Yes,” Velorum admitted. “But let me ask: would you give up years of knight skills training for better eyesight and resistance to light spells?”

That gave Orin pause. When put like that... it didn't sound like a fair trade.

“...But what about me?” he asked. “Would it be worth it, considering what I have?”

Velorum closed his eyes for a moment, then said softly, “That's a decision only you can make.”

He opened them again, his gaze more intense now.

“But you should be aware, red-eyed individuals... are feared. Especially here in Solaris. Whether you like it or not, that fear will find you. If it hasn't already.”

Orin stiffened.

“What do you mean? I've never had any trouble with anyone.”

"I'm talking about people who see magic not just as dangerous, but as an existential threat," Velorum said, his voice low but intense. "You might not have noticed yet... but across Solaris, there's a growing chorus of voices calling for the Emperor to imprison, and even execute, every mage in the empire."

Orin stiffened. He had always known that sorcerers weren't exactly celebrated in every corner of the empire, but this... this was something else.

Velorum continued, the edge of frustration rising in his voice. “It's not new. Anti-magic sentiment has always lingered at the edges of society, like smoke that never fully clears. But now it's spreading like wildfire. And I fear it's only a matter of time before that fire reaches the academy.”

Orin turned to look at him. His teacher stood with his head bowed, shadows falling over his expression. There was a heaviness in the way he spoke, not just concern, but exhaustion. A man who had seen this storm brewing for years and was finally watching it roll in.

“I worry for my students in the sorcerer class,” Velorum went on quietly, “but I worry for you as well, Orin. Red eyes like yours... to many, they're just another form of sorcery. And in times like these, fear doesn't care about the details.”

Orin opened his mouth, then hesitated. Part of him wanted to dismiss it all as paranoia, but something about Velorum's tone silenced that instinct. Instead, he managed a half-hearted smile.

“I'll be fine,” he said, trying to inject some confidence into his voice. “I'm Captain Alpheratz's son. People won't lay a hand on me.”

But Velorum didn't smile back. His gaze met Orin's, and there was no comfort in it, only solemnity.

“Orin, these people don't care who your father is. They don't care about law, or reason, or loyalty to the Empire. They're zealots. Fanatics,” he said bitterly. “And I'm not convinced they haven't already begun moving within these walls.”

A tense silence followed. Down on the battlefield, the sounds of the match had faded, another fight brought to its end. Yet above it all, the professor's words lingered like an echo.

Velorum's voice softened. “I've been thinking for a while now about leaving Solaris. But I can't. My daughter just enrolled in this academy this year. Just like you. It's all she's ever wanted. I couldn't take that away from her.”

He gave a weary smile, more pain than joy behind it.

“I'm not telling you this to frighten you,” he added. “I'm telling you because I need you to be cautious. I need you to understand that this isn't a distant problem. It's here. And you might be a target.”

Orin studied him for a long moment. The professor's eyes, just one hour before were so analytical and calm, and now held something deeper: fear, yes, but also resolve. This wasn't baseless speculation. Velorum knew something. Something he hadn't said.

“...Then who are they?” Orin asked finally. “How do I recognize them?”

Velorum's expression darkened.

“They call themselves the Church of Luminia. Formed around one man: Nicola Papin.”