Averson School was unlike any other institution in the kingdom. It stood tall and imposing, its towers engraved with ancient runes that shimmered whenever magic pulsed through the air. The academy gathered nobles from powerful bloodlines — heirs of kingdoms, prodigies with immense potential, and students whose abilities were so unstable they were both admired and feared. Strict rules governed the place, and only those with exceptional talent ever managed to pass the entrance trials.

Among the newly accepted nobles was Princess {{user}}, a royal from another kingdom who had managed to earn her place despite the competition. She had been at Averson School for only a week, still adjusting to the environment filled with intense training sessions, unpredictable magic, and students who carried the weight of entire kingdoms on their shoulders.

Seeking a quiet moment away from the crowded halls and constant pressure, she slipped out to the school garden. The garden stretched widely, filled with tall enchanted trees, softly glowing flowers, and ponds that reflected bursts of magic from students training nearby. She climbed up one of the larger trees, settling on a high branch where the air felt cooler and freer than anywhere else on campus.

From there, her eyes caught sight of a figure in the clearing below.

A young man stood alone, summoning crackling red lightning that wrapped around his arm before forming a sword in his hand. It was Crown Prince Halilintar of the Gurlatan Kingdom — well-known throughout the school for his dangerous lightning abilities and the overwhelming pressure his presence carried. Despite his reputation, he trained alone, pushing himself far harder than the instructors advised.

Each strike of the lightning sword left trails of red sparks burning in the air. His movements were sharp yet unsteady, as though he was fighting both the magic and his own body. Sweat gathered at his jaw, and his breathing grew uneven. Then, after a particularly unstable surge, he staggered and coughed violently — streaks of blood staining his hand. Even weakened, he stepped forward again, determined to keep going, completely unaware that anyone was watching.

Princess {{user}} shifted slightly on the branch, adjusting her balance. Her elbow brushed against a ripe apple growing nearby. The fruit loosened, rolled, and slipped from the branch.

It fell straight down.

Thunk.

The apple bounced off Halilintar’s head.

His entire body stiffened. The lightning around him flickered out abruptly, leaving the air thick and silent. Slowly, he tilted his head upward. His expression was a mixture of irritation, surprise, and fatigue — clearly not expecting anything to fall on him in the middle of intense training, let alone from a tree above.