Three days passed in the blink of an eye.
Alzer spent most of that time in seclusion, practicing the newly acquired [Void Step] in the privacy of his room. The technique was unlike anything he had ever encountered in his past life. It didn't consume mana in the traditional sense — instead, it devoured spatial energy, drawing from the cracks between dimensions. Each use left him dizzy and disoriented, his mind struggling to process the impossible angles his body had just traversed.
But he was making progress.
Just a few more days, he thought, and I'll be able to use it reliably in combat.
On the morning of the third day, a knock came at his door.
"Young Lord, a letter has arrived from the Royal Academy."
Alzer opened the door and took the envelope from the servant's hands. The paper was thick and expensive, stamped with the academy's emblem — a golden phoenix surrounded by nine stars, each representing one of the Nine Great Elements.
He broke the seal and read.
"Alzer Volheim —
By order of the Royal Academy of Uyzher Kingdom, you are hereby accepted as a formal student. Report to the Southern District within two days for registration, dormitory assignment, and orientation. Failure to appear will result in forfeiture of your admission.
— Vice Headmaster Ferrell Izkard"
Simple. Direct. No flattery, no congratulations.
Good, Alzer thought. I despise unnecessary pleasantries.
He packed lightly — a few changes of clothes, some basic magical supplies, and a small pouch of silver coins. Everything else could be acquired at the academy. There was no point in bringing extra baggage.
The carriage ride to the Southern District took less than an hour. The streets were less crowded than on examination day, but the flow of traffic was still considerable. Other newly accepted students were making their way to the academy as well — some in luxurious carriages escorted by armed guards, others on foot with nothing but the clothes on their backs.
Alzer's carriage stopped at the academy gates.
A massive structure loomed before him, easily ten times the size of the Volheim manor in Snow County. The Royal Academy was not a single building but a sprawling complex of towers, training grounds, libraries, and dormitories. Walls of white stone surrounded it, inscribed with protective arrays that shimmered faintly in the morning light.
I'm back, Alzer thought as he stepped through the gates. After all these years.
In his past life, he had never set foot here as a student. The Volheim family had disowned him before he could enroll, forcing him to find other ways to grow stronger. The irony was not lost on him — now, thanks to his lightning affinity, he was walking through the front gates like he belonged here.
A registration desk had been set up in the main courtyard. Several long lines of students snaked across the paved stone, each line designated by a different color banner.
Alzer joined the shortest line and waited.
When his turn came, a middle-aged woman with spectacles and a permanent frown looked up at him. "Name?"
"Alzer Volheim."
She consulted a thick ledger, running her finger down the page. "Ah, yes. First place in the entrance examination." Her expression softened slightly. "Congratulations. You've been assigned to the Golden Dormitory — that's for students who ranked in the top ten. Take this key and follow the path to the east. Your room number is 407."
She handed him a brass key attached to a small wooden tag.
Alzer took it and nodded. "Thank you."
He walked east, following a paved pathway lined with flowering trees. The Golden Dormitory lived up to its name — a seven-story building with gold-trimmed windows and a grand entrance flanked by two stone lion statues. It was clearly reserved for the elite.
How convenient, Alzer thought dryly. The academy separates its students by rank before they've even attended a single class. Some things never change.
He found room 407 on the fourth floor. The door was solid oak, reinforced with magical wards. He inserted the key, and the wards recognized his mana signature with a soft chime.
The room was modest but comfortable — a single bed, a desk, a wardrobe, and a small window overlooking the training grounds. There was also a private bathroom, which was more than most students could hope for.
Alzer set his bag on the bed and looked around.
It'll do.
He was about to sit down when a voice came from the doorway.
"Well, well, well. So this is the famous Demon who made Prince Charles cry like a little girl."
Alzer turned slowly.
A young man leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smug smile plastered across his face. He was tall, with slicked-back black hair and sharp features. His robes were expensive — silk embroidered with silver thread — and a bronze badge on his chest marked him as a second-year student.
Ah, Alzer thought. Here it comes.
"Who are you?" Alzer's voice was flat.
The young man pushed off the doorframe and sauntered into the room like he owned it. "Me? I'm Marcus Flint. My father is Viscount Flint, a loyal supporter of the Royal Family." He stopped two meters away, looking Alzer up and down with obvious disdain. "I heard what you did to His Highness during the exam. Using a girl as leverage? Tearing open her robes? Tsk tsk tsk. That's not how a noble behaves."
Alzer's expression didn't change. "And?"
"And?" Marcus's smile widened. "I think someone needs to teach you some manners. The Royal Family has been very good to my family. It's only right that I return the favor by dealing with those who embarrass them."
So that's it, Alzer realized. He wants to curry favor with the Dawnlights by bullying me. Pathetic.
"You're a second-year," Alzer said slowly. "I'm a first-year. The academy has rules against upperclassmen harassing new students."
"Rules?" Marcus laughed. "Rules are for commoners, boy. My father sits on the Capital Council. The Vice Headmaster owes him favors. Who do you think they'll believe if there's a... disagreement?"
He stepped closer, invading Alzer's personal space. His mana flared — the third level of the Mortal Stage. Not insignificant.
"How about this?" Marcus said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Transfer all your academy credits to me for the first semester, and I'll forget this little conversation ever happened. Refuse, and I'll make your life here a living hell."
Alzer stared at him.
For a long, uncomfortable moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Alzer did something unexpected.
He smiled.
"You want my credits?" Alzer's voice was soft, almost gentle. "Then take them."
Marcus blinked. "What?"
"I said — take them." Alzer spread his arms wide, leaving his chest completely exposed. "Go ahead. I won't resist."
Marcus's expression flickered with uncertainty. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. The first-year was supposed to cower, to beg, to offer bribes. Not this... whatever this was.
"You think I'm joking?" Marcus snarled. He raised his hand, and a fireball materialized in his palm — not large enough to kill, but certainly large enough to cause third-degree burns. "I'll give you one last chance."
Alzer's smile didn't waver. "Do it."
Marcus's eyes narrowed.
And then he attacked.
The fireball shot forward —
And passed through empty air.
"What—?!"
Alzer was no longer standing in front of him. He was behind Marcus. Close. Too close. His breath was warm against the back of the senior's neck.
"Did you feel that?" Alzer whispered. "That moment when you thought you had won?"
Marcus spun around, his heart pounding. "How did you—?!"
Crack.
A hairline fracture appeared in the air between them. Through the gap, Marcus could see something gray and endless — a void that made his soul shiver with primal fear.
"What... what is that?!" His voice cracked.
Alzer raised one finger and touched the fracture. It sealed itself instantly, disappearing as if it had never existed.
"That," Alzer said calmly, "is the last thing you'll ever see if you ever threaten me again."
Marcus stumbled backward, his face pale. His fireball had dissipated. His confidence had evaporated. All that remained was the cold realization that he had bitten off far more than he could chew.
"You... you can't do this," Marcus stammered. "The academy rules—"
"You just told me rules are for commoners." Alzer took a step forward. "Or did you forget your own words?"
Marcus opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
Alzer sighed. The amusement was gone, replaced by something colder. "Listen carefully, Viscount's son. I don't care about your father. I don't care about the Royal Family. And I certainly don't care about you." He tilted his head. "If you want to curry favor with Prince Charles, go ahead. But use someone else as your stepping stone. Because if you come near me again..."
He didn't finish the sentence.
He didn't need to.
Marcus turned and fled, his footsteps echoing down the hallway until they faded into silence.
Alzer closed the door and sat on the edge of his bed.
The first of many, he thought. Now that I've humiliated the prince, every bootlicker in the academy will want a piece of me.
He wasn't worried. The Void Step alone made him untouchable against anyone below the fourth level of the Mortal Stage. And with his lightning magic as backup, even a fifth-level opponent would have trouble catching him.
But there was something else — something more troubling.
That fracture, he thought. The one I showed him. It appeared too easily. Too smoothly.
In his room, when he had first learned Void Step, opening a spatial fracture had required intense concentration. Now, in the heat of the moment, it had happened almost instinctively.
Is the technique evolving? Or am I simply adapting to it faster than expected?
He didn't have an answer.
But one thing was certain — the Book of Chaos was changing him in ways he didn't fully understand.
And not all of those changes might be for the better.
Alzer lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
Outside his window, the sun climbed higher over the Royal Academy, casting long shadows across the training grounds.
Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled.
The first day of the rest of his life had begun.