The morning mist hadn't cleared yet, but the academy gates were already open.
Sam stood just beyond them, staring out at the distant curve of City A—the sprawling urban district tied to Nova Sanctum like a shadow trailing light. It pulsed with color and sound, a stark contrast to the cold, cracked stone of Dorm Nullis behind him.
He tightened his scarf, more out of habit than need. The chill wasn't biting—it was just familiar. Like the quiet weight of being forgotten.
Classes wouldn't begin for another week. They'd been given "recovery time"—a polite way of saying: go rest, or disappear, your choice. Most students from higher dorms had vanished into private training halls or social mixers. But Sam? He had no such invitations.
So he walked.
Not toward a training field or a sparring ring—but toward the unknown. Toward the city.
Sam had never seen a city like this.
City A—the outer sector of Nova Sanctum—stretched out beyond the academy gates like a dream gone rogue. Towering stone buildings leaned into the narrow streets, their windows glowing faintly with enchantments. Neon glyph-signs floated mid-air, flickering between languages. Markets buzzed with energy, and airships drifted lazily overhead like metal clouds.
It was chaotic, alive... and just slightly off.
Sam wandered through the winding streets with his hands in his pockets, the chill of the dorm still clinging to his skin. He was supposed to be shopping for basics—robes, spell materials, notebooks—but the city had other plans.
Every corner he turned pulled him deeper. Alleyways curved into tunnels. Signs pointed nowhere. Eventually, the polished paths of upper City A gave way to older bricks, dirtier lights, and shadows that stretched too far.
He didn't even realize he'd crossed into Lower Sector D until he saw the change in faces. No more student uniforms. Just cloaks, tattoos, and half-hidden weapons.
Sam stopped in front of an alley where a group of kids stood around a broken fountain, whispering fast. A symbol was painted on the cracked stone behind them—a flame curling into an eye. Something about it stirred discomfort in his gut.
"You lost, academy boy?" one of them asked, smirking.
Sam didn't answer. He turned away.
But before he could leave, a sudden crash echoed from deeper inside the alley. A shout followed. Then silence.
Something told him to walk away. Keep moving.
But he didn't.
He followed the sound, carefully.
Behind an old butcher's shop, he found a door—iron-barred and guarded by a rune that shimmered faintly. Voices drifted up through the cracks.
Then a loudspeaker crackled.
"Next up! The Ghost of Nullis versus The Broken Chain! Let's see if our little academy mutts still have bite!"
Sam's heart skipped.
Nullis?
He moved fast. Found a back entrance, slipped in with a group of cloaked figures. The moment he stepped inside, the atmosphere changed. The scent of blood, sweat, and spell-fire hung thick in the air. A crowd surrounded a circular pit below—a glowing, rune-lined cage of stone and enchantment. The air pulsed with violence.
And in the center of the pit, bleeding from his lip and barely on his feet, stood someone Sam recognized.
Ren. The quiet boy from Dorm Nullis. The one who rarely spoke and always wore gloves, even to bed.
Now he was stripped to the waist, bruised, and breathing hard. His opponent—a brute of a man with black sigils burning across his chest—closed in.
Sam gripped the railing.
What the hell was this?
The announcer's voice boomed again. "Special bet tonight—will the Ghost collapse in one more hit, or will he finally show that academy's fire?"
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
Ren didn't look at them. His eyes stared straight ahead, focused only on surviving.
Sam scanned the room. Organizers in red sashes stood near the gates. A woman with silver hair took notes beside a pile of coins. And near the back—Sam's breath caught—was another Nullis student, Ava, standing with arms crossed, eyes narrowed.
She wasn't watching the fight.
She was watching the crowd. Watching him.
Their eyes met, and she mouthed a word.
"Don't."
But it was already too late. Sam had seen enough.
Ren blocked a hit, barely, and stumbled back, foot slipping on blood.
Sam clenched his fists.
This wasn't training. This wasn't even punishment.
This was exploitation.
---
Back in Dorm Nullis that night, Ren limped through the hallway with a busted arm. He didn't meet anyone's gaze. No one asked questions.
But Sam stood at the door.
"What the hell was that?"
Ren froze.
Ava stepped in from the hall, voice low. "Drop it, Sam. You don't understand what this place does to people."
"I understand enough," Sam replied. "They're using us."
Ren looked up. "I volunteered."
Sam's jaw clenched. "Why?"
Ren's lips twisted in a tired, bitter smile. "Because in the ring… I'm not a failure. I'm not rank 200. I'm something."
The silence stretched.
Sam didn't argue. He couldn't.
But as he lay in bed that night, staring at the cracked ceiling, the truth gnawed at him.
Nullis was supposed to be a second chance. But for some, it was a trap dressed as a dorm.
And somewhere out there, someone was making money off that trap.
Sam didn't know what he could do yet. But he knew one thing for sure:
This academy had shadows deeper than any illusion.
And he had just stepped into them.
***Preview***
An unknown new hero joins the ring...will be be able to defeat the bad guys and come on top?? And is it an act of dominance or an act of....kindness.