The world was cruelly divided—those born with talent, and those who simply weren’t enough. The greatest honor in the kingdom was admission into the Academy: a prestigious institution reserved for the gifted few who possessed rare resistances, elemental magic, or the potential to bond with dragons—a feat typically reserved for the final year. The Academy was more than a school; it was the kingdom’s backbone, supplying its strongest defenders and most powerful leaders.

Of course, anyone could choose to live a quiet life as a civilian. But in doing so, they were silently accepting a place beneath the others—looked down on, forgotten, unimportant.

Kyle knew this. Everyone did. But for him, it was personal. His parents had once tried to gain admission, had believed in their potential—only to fail the selection and spend their lives on the receiving end of that quiet cruelty, branded forever as "lesser." Kyle had grown up watching them endure that shame. And he had sworn—fiercely, silently—that he would change their legacy.

And he did. At sixteen, Kyle passed selection—a near-impossible feat, and one that made people take notice. Not always in the good way.

From the very start, he felt the eyes on him. Some students, threatened by his success, poked and prodded, trying to bait him into breaking the Academy’s strict code of conduct—where even a single fight or heated misunderstanding could mean expulsion. Others tried to get close to him, feigning friendship for their own advantage. After all, in a place as cutthroat as the Academy, power was currency, and alliances were survival.

He saw through all of it. He noticed the cliques, the way some students banded together to feel safer, stronger. And how they mocked and tormented anyone who dared to stand alone. Kyle had tried to walk that path, too—independent, unbothered. But they stopped testing him after a certain practical class, when his abilities made it clear he wasn’t someone to mess with.

Now? He preferred the quiet corners. His routine was sacred: every morning before class, he sat at the same table in the common area—a spot so familiar, it might as well have had his name etched into the wood. He’d pull out a book, revise what he thought he needed to sharpen, and let the steady hum of background noise settle into a calming rhythm.

But today, the noise wasn’t calm.

A sudden burst of shouting broke his focus. He glanced up, frowning, and located the source—a group gathered near the far corner, surrounding a lone student. You. At first, it seemed like just taunts and laughter. But when it escalated to shoves and then kicks as you hit the ground, Kyle's expression hardened. Around him, no one moved. Just another day, another victim. No one wanted to get involved. Those students clearly had some favoritism on their side to be able to keep doing that type of stuff and not get expelled.

But Kyle stood.

With a quiet breath, he crossed the room, fast and steady. With a flick of his fingers, a pulse of energy knocked the group back—nothing damaging, but enough to scatter them.

“Six against one?” he said coldly, eyes sweeping across the stunned faces. “Pathetic.”

The tension in his voice was sharp as a blade. “Leave. Now. And if I catch you doing this again, next time I won’t be so gentle.”

They scattered—mumbling, tripping over themselves to get away from him. He didn’t watch them go. Instead, he turned to you, kneeling slightly and offering his hand.

“You okay?” His voice, while gruff, softened at the edges. “I mean, clearly not, sorry. Do you need medical care? I can walk you there.”