The Gudvangen Trench.
The carriage journeyed toward the western edge of the Central District, where the city's heart meets the sky.
Here, one of the main water lines terminates in a massive, thundering waterfall that feeds the Gudvangen Trench. The chasm is a staggering sight—a thousand feet deep and ten miles wide, stretching as far as the eye can see.
At its basin, far below the urban sprawl, lies a pristine wilderness of lakes and ancient forests—a world entirely removed from the hustle and bustle of the capital.
Spanning the misty void beside the waterfall was a colossal stone bridge. Its columns were fashioned from three-millennium-old trees, their trunks as thick as tower foundations.
This bridge served as the grand threshold to a magnificent castle perched upon a high plateau, surrounded by sheer cliffs on all sides: the Mjolnir Academy.
As Rune and his companions crossed, he was mesmerized. The bridge was covered by a natural arch of vibrant leaves, home to exotic animals he had never seen in the woods of Teveden Evergreen.
"Impressive, isn't it?"
Tove noted, smiling at the wonder in his friend's eyes.
"I'm not going to lie,"
Rune whispered, still dazed by the sheer scale of the architecture.
"It's amazing."
"Just wait until we actually get inside,"
Thora added, his voice brimming with excitement.
"You're in for a real surprise."
The Assembly of Ragnar
The group followed the river of students toward the central assembly ground. Recognizing the need to settle Rune's unique situation, the party approached a faculty member.
"Good morning, Teacher Helen,"
the four friends said in unison.
"Oh, good morning to you all!"
replied the jolly instructor with a cheerful beam.
Amery stepped forward to explain.
"Our friend, Rune, was admitted under special enrollment. Even though this is his first year, he's been assigned to the Fourth-Year Special Class."
"How wonderful!" Helen replied, her smile widening.
"He's one of my future students, then. You four head along to your own classes; I'll take charge of him."
After a flurry of farewells, Rune watched his friends depart. Amery headed to the Third-Year wing, while Tove, Thora, and Siggy joined the Second-Years. Rune followed Helen toward the Fourth-Year quad.
"Come along now,"
Helen urged in her high-pitched, excited voice.
"The morning ceremony is about to start. You'll want a good seat to enjoy the show."
The venue was packed with teenagers reuniting after the long break. The air was thick with the excited murmurs and shouts of students seeing old friends. Suddenly, a heavy, resonant pressure enveloped the entire school. It wasn't enough to cause fear, but it was sharp enough to demand instant silence.
A loud, guttural cry echoed from the horizon. A dragon swept toward the assembly, its wings casting a massive shadow over the grounds. Rune's hand instinctively gripped the hilt of his practice sword, his heart hammering against his ribs.
He only relaxed when he noticed the other students remained perfectly calm.
"Good morning, students,"
a voice boomed. An old man stood atop the dragon as it hovered over the school. Rune was astonished; the voice didn't sound like a shout—it felt as if the words were being projected directly into his brain.
"My name is Ragnar, the Principal of this academy. I welcome you all to a new year. May Midgard's blessing be with you throughout your stay. Teachers, you may now direct your students to their dormitories. Classes begin this afternoon."
With that, the dragon and the old man vanished in the blink of an eye.
The Halls of Gates.
Rune was still searching the sky for the beast when Helen tapped his shoulder.
"Time to go, Rune. I need to settle the rest of the fourth year as well."
She led the group to a structure known as the Halls of Gates. She explained that the Fourth-Year wing was accessible only via dimensional gates; the corridors were laced with traps and ether formations designed to prevent the predatory beasts of the Gudvangen Trench from wandering into the academic sectors.
In this elite wing, everything—the dorms, lecture halls, and training arenas—existed on a single, massive floor. As Rune stepped through the gate, a buzzing hum filled his ears, making him momentarily dizzy.
He shook it off and looked around, only to gasp. The "floor" had its own artificial skylight and lush gardens filled with unknown flora. The "rooms" were actually individual buildings. It was an entire world contained within the castle walls.
As Rune stood mesmerized by the magical engineering, a sharp voice cut through the air.
"Tsk... a bunch of half-breed country bumpkins."
Rune turned toward the comment. It was a boy at the head of a small clique. Rune was about to ignore the insult until his eyes caught a figure standing just behind the speaker.
It was Ivar.
It seemed Ivar was also a member of this special class, though here, he appeared to be nothing more than a lackey. He kept his head low, following the lead of the other boy, and hadn't yet noticed Rune's presence.
"Looks like things are about to get interesting," Rune whispered to himself. A familiar fire ignited in his eyes—he was ready to prove that his years of training in the wilds of Teveden Evergreen Forest were worth more than any "pure" bloodline.