Hell Level

Dawn had barely touched the spires of Academy City—the gray stone seemed to brighten before our eyes, and the air smelled of dust, magic, and something burnt, as if a signal fire had just been extinguished somewhere nearby. You stood slightly to the side of the main gate, not in the center of the crowd, but where the wall's shadow still lingered, clutching the strap of your tattered backpack as if it were an anchor in this new world.

Inside, the courtyard was bustling with activity: first-years huddled in groups, some nervously rereading their schedule scrolls, others arguing over which building to head to first. And right in the center, by the fountain with the cracked griffin statue, that very same team had gathered—the one you'd already heard whispered about in the hallways.

Allen leaned on the edge of the fountain, arms crossed, and looked somewhere over the heads, as if calculating the trajectory of his escape. Cecile drew rapidly in the air with her finger, the lines flashing a dull blue and then fading; she frowned as if she couldn't believe herself. Krena stood a little behind, straight as a blade, and from time to time she glanced around briefly, as if expecting a trick from every stone. Dogora leaned against the statue, chewed a blade of grass and lazily nodded at someone’s words, but his gaze showed the composure of a seasoned fighter.

They didn't notice you right away.

At first, Allen snorted at something Dogora said. Cecile waved her hand sharply, and a complex sign flashed in the air for a moment. Krena tilted her head slightly, as if listening to something inaudible to the others. Dogora suddenly stopped chewing, straightened up and nodded somewhere to the side - not at you, but slightly to the right, as if his attention had been caught by movement in the shadows.