Rise Of The Lesser-Blood

The next few days at Blackspear Academy passed in a blur of steady routines and intensive training. With each passing morning, Thomas found himself integrating deeper into the rhythm of the freshman curriculum, memorizing the names and expectations of his core faculty.

The strict, unyielding man who handled their morning theory block was Instructor Sterling, a veteran scholar who treated magical notation like a precise mathematics. Their physical conditioning and tactical movement lectures were led by a towering, heavily scarred warrior named Instructor Barrett, while the complex, dangerous field of beast linguistics and elemental bestiaries fell under the eccentric guidance of Instructor Finch. Finally, there was their lethal, unforgiving combat proctor, Instructor Cross, who spent every practical session pacing the black sand of the subterranean coliseum, watching Thomas like a hawk.

Yet, despite the target painted on his back, the expected retaliation from the High-bloods never came. Julian hadn’t spoken a single word to him since that brief, chilling late-night visit to his dormitory room. Whenever their eyes met in the hallways or during lectures, the handsome noble would simply adjust his silver-rimmed glasses and look away, his expression entirely unreadable. It was a suffocating, tense silence that felt less like peace and more like the heavy calm before a massive storm.

Fortunately, Thomas wasn’t navigating the isolation alone. Over the course of the week, he and Ryan had grown incredibly close with the only two other lesser-bloods in Class 1-A.

Lina, the quiet girl with the Healing Touch support talent, had a gentle, cautious nature born from years of avoiding noble wrath back in her home province. Her roommate, Mina, was her exact polar opposite a fierce, sharp-witted girl whose Scent Tracker utility talent made her highly observant of her surroundings. Together, the four low-born students formed a tight, protective circle. They ate their meals together in the lower mess halls, shared notes from Instructor Sterling’s grueling theory lectures, and helped one another refine their basic mana channeling patterns far away from the mocking eyes of the nobility.

By the afternoon of the fifth day, the weight of the upcoming Inter-Class Tournament pushed Thomas to seek out a quiet sanctuary. Leaving Ryan, Lina, and Mina behind in the training courtyards, he made his way deep into the central spire to the academy’s grand archives a colossal, multi-tiered library filled with thousands of ancient scrolls and leather-bound text-tomes.

Thomas navigated the labyrinthine, shadow-drenched rows of the historical fiction section, searching for any obscure text that might shed light on ancient runes or the legacy of Neher Khepri.

He rounded a heavily dust-covered shelf near the back windows and stopped dead in his tracks.

Curled up comfortably on a plush, velvet window seat was a breathtakingly familiar sight. The pale-skinned senior girl sat with her legs tucked beneath her, her raven-black hair falling out of its signature messy bun as she stared lazily out at the distant, glowing spires of the Holy City. Her ebony eyes blinked slowly through her glasses, a heavy historical ledger resting neglected on her lap.

Thomas blinked in genuine surprise, the sheer coincidence catching him completely off guard. ”Oh... hey there stranger.”

The girl didn’t flinch. She slowly tilted her head back, her sharp, worldly gaze landing on Thomas. A faint, amused smirk played at the edge of her lips as she recognized the freshman she had spent a week using as a medical excuse.

”Well, look who finally decided to wander out of his shell.” she said, her beautiful voice carrying that same familiar, slightly raspy undertone.

Thomas took a step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at the massive stacks of books surrounding her secluded corner. ”What are you doing all the way back here in this part of the archives?”

She let out a soft, lazy sigh, leaning her head back against the stone frame of the window. ”What does it look like? I’m skipping class Thomas.”