Orin Alpheratz (15 years old) Location: Solaris  Date: Year 873 / Pegasus Cycle (1) / Day of Twilight (24)

After the clash with Hector, Orin needed an entire day to recover. His body ached from the bruises, and his pride fared no better. Still, he returned to his classes as usual. Though the academy buzzed with anticipation over the upcoming selection for the Hero's Trial. Orin's mind lingered elsewhere.

All he could think about was the fight. And how he'd lost.

Every spare moment, he replayed it in his head, each clash, each feint, each blow. Searching. Analyzing. Hoping to find a crack in Hector's seemingly flawless defense.

And then, before he realized it, the five days had passed.

It was the Day of Twilight, the final day of the Pegasus Cycle, and the long-awaited date when the Hero's Trial candidates would be announced.

The academy's great hall was unrecognizable. Banners bearing the crest of Solaris hung from the vaulted ceiling. The walls shimmered with details in solid gold. Ice sculptures of past champions stood like silent sentinels along the perimeter. Every table was draped in velvet of deep royal purple, covered in silver dishes and fine crystal glasses filled with drinks Orin couldn't even name.

The entire student body had gathered, from first-years to graduating seniors. It looked less like a school ceremony and more like a royal banquet.

Orin sat among the members of his squad from group tactics class, staring absently into a glass of sweet, amber liquid he hadn't meant to sip.

"Do you think there's any chance Hector won't be nominated?" Cor asked, eyes flicking toward a distant table where Hector sat, surrounded by classmates and even a few instructors. The crowd around him was practically a fan club.

"Not a chance," Sirius said, lifting his drink with exaggerated flair. "If the academy could nominate three Hectors, they would."

Gina burst out laughing, nearly spilling her drink. “Three Hectors? That would be a nightmare!”

"The real question is," Eridus chimed in, "is Hector truly that strong? I've only seen him fight once during the group exercises. Sure, he's well-rounded... but unbeatable? That, I'm not so sure."

"Even if he were to lose," Sirius added, his tone flattening, "the council would probably still choose him. Leo said something like that during the special session... Unless someone completely crushes him in battle, the result is already set."

"He won't be crushed!" Orin cut in sharply, his voice louder than intended.

Everyone turned to look at him.

He hadn't said a word until now, just listening quietly in the corner. But he couldn't stay silent anymore.

"When I fought him a few days ago," he continued, his fists clenched under the table, "I realized something... Hector has never fought seriously. Not in class, not during group tactics, not even in duels. He's always holding back. Always."

The group exchanged curious glances. Though they all knew Orin and Hector had clashed, none of them were privy to the details of that fight. Only Sirius had witnessed Hector carrying an unconscious, bloodied Orin to the infirmary. And yet, even he had remained silent, respecting whatever unspoken weight lingered over that event.

Orin, for his part, had never spoken of what happened.

And now, as the others watched him with quiet anticipation, hesitant to ask anything that might cross a line, Orin noticed the shift in the air, their unspoken questions and their restrained curiosity. He let out a short, dry laugh.

"Don't look so serious," he said, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. 

His tone eased the tension slightly, and he leaned forward, his voice low but firm.

"Truth is... I learned a lot from that fight. I saw where I lacked. What I need to work on. There were moments where, if I'd just been a bit faster... a bit stronger... I could've landed a counterstrike. Hector left small openings, but I just couldn't reach them."

He looked down at the glass in his hand, the reflections dancing across the surface.

"But in a one-on-one match, I don't think any second-year stands a real chance against him."

The others fell quiet, until Orin added, almost as an afterthought:

"Not once... did he use a single Knight Skill during our match. Same during the group tactics class."

Eridus raised an eyebrow. "So you think he's holding back? That he might underestimate his opponents in the Hero's Trial too?"

Orin shook his head.

"It's not underestimation," he said. "Hector isn't careless. If anything, he's... deliberate. I think he reads the flow of the battle so well that he only uses what's necessary. He hasn't needed to show his real strength. Not yet."

The table fell into a contemplative silence. The idea that Hector had more to offer than what they'd already seen was both daunting and exhilarating.

Before anyone at the table could respond, a commotion at the far end of the hall began drawing closer. A small group of first-year students was making their way toward them. At the front were two figures locked in what sounded like a heated argument: a boy and a girl.

The boy, wearing the knight class uniform, had unruly brown hair and carried himself with a lazy, almost carefree confidence. There was something oddly familiar about his presence that tugged at Orin's memory.

The girl beside him, dressed in the robes of the wizard class, had striking light-blue hair and sharp green eyes. Her posture was stiff with annoyance, and yet she, too, sparked a strange sense of familiarity in Orin.

“I told you to stop following me,” the girl snapped, glaring at the boy. “There are more tables on the other side of the hall.”

“You're the one tailing us, busybody,” the boy replied with a smirk that practically radiated mischief. He then gestured toward Orin's table and added with a dramatic flourish, “See that brown-haired idiot with the buffoon face?”

He was pointing directly at Sirius.

Sirius blinked, caught mid-sip, and nearly dropped his glass. His jaw hung open as he stared at the boy in disbelief.

“That's my brother!” the boy announced proudly, as if unveiling some kind of secret weapon.

The girl rolled her eyes with the weight of someone used to this sort of nonsense and crossed her arms with an exasperated huff.

“Well, I'm not here for family reunions,” she said, turning her gaze to Orin. “I came to speak with Orin. My father sent me.”

Orin blinked, completely lost. He turned to his friends for answers, but they looked just as baffled, except for Sirius, who suddenly jolted upright with a dramatic shout.

“Pyon, did you seriously just call me an idiot in front of my friends?! Just wait till I get my hands on you!”

He turned to Orin with an apologetic shrug and a long-suffering sigh.

“Sorry about the commotion. That menace right there is Pyon Canus, my little brother.”

“First-year in the knight class,” Pyon said with a smug grin, puffing his chest out proudly. “I heard Orin is one of the favorites to be a candidate for this year's Hero's Trial. Naturally, I got curious.”

“Me... a favorite?” Orin asked, clearly caught off guard. This was the first he'd heard of it.

“Obviously,” Pyon replied with a wink. “That's why I brought my friends too.”

He gestured behind him to the two boys flanking him. Both wore the knight class uniform. “The guy with the black bangs covering his eyes is Rick, and the other one with the military haircut is Padus.”

The two stepped forward and gave polite bows. Rick's face was mostly hidden beneath his hair, giving him an aloof vibe, while Padus had the look of someone who took his training very seriously.

Orin was about to respond when Sirius leaned in with a suspicious squint.

“Don't believe a word he says,” Sirius muttered. “He probably tried to go to Hector's table first but gave up when he saw how packed it was. So he came here instead. Typical Pyon... he always goes where the drama is.”

Pyon gasped in mock offense. “Brother, how could you say such a thing? We're all huge Orin fans here!”

Then, flashing a mischievous grin, he added, “Besides, isn't it way more exciting to root for the underdog?”

Underdog? Orin repeated the word in his head. Is that... how most students see me?

“Are you done?” the girl asked flatly, arms crossed and her frown deepening by the second. She had been standing off to the side the entire time, radiating growing impatience. “As I said, I came here to see Orin.”

Orin turned to her, a bit confused. But the moment their eyes met, her expression changed entirely. The irritation melted away in an instant, replaced by a radiant smile so genuine it caught him off guard. It was as if she had been waiting for this exact moment.

“My name is Antilae... Antilae Velorum, first-year student in the wizarding course,” she said brightly, her eyes shimmering with excitement. “So you're Orin! We finally meet! And... oh my stars! Your eyes really are red... how wonderful!!”

Orin blinked, unsure of how to respond to such sudden enthusiasm. But then a detail registered in his mind, Velorum?

“Antilae is Professor Velorum's daughter,” Eridus quietly confirmed, leaning in. “She enrolled this year.”

Professor Velorum's daughter? Orin recalled how the professor had once spoken about his daughter. How he feared for her safety and that of the other young mages, given the shadow cast by the Church of Luminia. That memory sparked a flicker of empathy within him.

“It's nice to meet you. I'm Orin,” he said, offering a polite nod.

Antilae took a step closer, practically glowing as she stared into his eyes with what could only be described as reverence. The intensity of her gaze didn't go unnoticed.

“Well, well,” Sirius chuckled, elbowing him. “Looks like someone just claimed first place in the Orin fan club.”

The others laughed along, but Antilae remained focused, seemingly oblivious to their teasing. After a few long seconds of awe, she blinked rapidly, as if snapping back to reality.

“Oh—right!” she said, turning slightly. “I'm also here with my friend. Lia Zaurak, from the wizarding course as well.”

A girl with green eyes and brown hair tied into neat pigtails stepped forward. Her posture was energetic, though her voice carried a tinge of nervousness as she gave a respectful bow.

“Nice to meet you, everyone!” she said, her smile both warm and a little unsure.

After the introductions, it didn't take long for the first-years and second-years to begin mingling, casual conversations forming in every corner of the table.

On one side, Sirius had launched into a spirited retelling of his squad's confrontation with Perseus during group tactics class. Pyon and his two friends listened in rapt attention, hanging on every word with wide-eyed admiration, though Cor stood close by, occasionally jumping in to fact-check Sirius's increasingly exaggerated narrative.

Meanwhile, Eridus, Gina, and Lia had formed a small circle of their own, discussing the challenges and quirks of the wizarding course and comparing notes on their various instructors.

As the table buzzed with chatter, Antilae quietly approached Orin, who was nursing the last of his drink and observing the lively group with a faint smile. She stopped beside him, and Orin noticed that her vibrant energy from earlier seemed to have dimmed. Her expression was subdued, her shoulders a little tense.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, setting down his glass.

Antilae hesitated, then looked down at her hands.

“You know... for most mages, the dream is to enter the Minoris Magic Academy,” she began softly. “But for me... it was always Solaris. You know... My mother is from Venerae and my father from Doselis. Because of that, I inherited a rare affinity: wind and water magic. I could cast from a young age, even before formal training. That's what got me here.”

She paused, her voice faltering slightly.

“But lately, my dad's been acting... strange. Overprotective. I think he wants us to move back to Doselis. He's always worried about something, always watching over me. I thought... maybe he told you something?”

Orin looked at her, trying to gauge how much she deserved to know, and how much her father would want her to hear. After a long moment, he let out a quiet sigh and turned his gaze back toward the rest of the table, where laughter still echoed.

“Your father has his reasons,” he said carefully. “But you don't need to worry. If something truly dangerous were looming, he'd be the first to act. He wouldn't let harm come to you, or to the Academy. Until then, you should enjoy this place for as long as you can.”

Antilae blinked, her eyes softening as a small smile returned to her face.

“You're right,” she said, her voice regaining its brightness. “Thanks for listening.”

Orin was about to reply when the deep, booming voice of an elder cut through the air like a lightning strike.

“The results of the election of the three contenders will now be announced. All students, take your seats and remain silent.”

Instantly, the festive atmosphere of the hall vanished, replaced by a tense stillness. Chairs scraped against the polished floor as students hurried to their seats, hearts pounding.

The moment had arrived.