Stalefort.

*Fifty years ago, in the year 750 A.S.—known to many as the “Year of Zenith.”

It was the year when the Holy War came to its long-awaited end. A year that saw the founding of Stalefort Academy, the institution that drew the curtain on bloodshed, raised the banner of peace, and opened the gates to a new era—an age of prosperity, progress, and harmony that has continued, uninterrupted, for half a century and counting.*

These were the words etched into the pages of an old book Shiro had once read. A book that spoke of the academy’s origins... and the Great War that had plunged the world into darkness—until Stalefort rose from the ashes, united the kingdoms, and paved the road for an age of guilds, riches, and the rise of countless heroes and famed adventurers.

Now, back to the present.

Shiro stood at the front door of his home, flanked by his father and his younger sister. The little girl’s eyes were filled to the brim with tears as she clung tightly to her brother, refusing to let go.

“Why? Why are you leaving us?”

It was Alia’s voice, trembling with sorrow as she gripped the back of Shiro’s pants like her life depended on it.

“I’m not leaving, I swear. It’s just for a short while... I’ll be back before you even notice I’m gone.”

Half-truth. Maybe Alia wouldn’t catch it—not this time.

“Can’t you study here instead? You promised me! You promised you’d never leave!”

“I know... but—”

Shiro paused. Words failed him. Nothing he could say would make it better. He’d always been the one to make her laugh, the one to keep her company. Whether he was strong or weak didn’t matter—he was her big brother, and she adored him more than anyone else in the world.

Even the coldest hearts have that one person they can’t bear to lose.

And Shiro knew this moment would come. Alia was never going to let him go quietly. It took their father stepping in, gently lifting her up onto his shoulder and speaking in a warm, reassuring tone.

“Alia, sweetheart. Shiro’s going somewhere important so he can grow stronger—so he can protect himself... and us. He’ll be back before you know it. It’s just like going out to pick some fruit and coming back home, right, Shiro?”

*Smooth.*

That’s all Shiro could think as he watched his father work his magic. A masterclass in calming down emotional little sisters. Now it was his turn to follow up with something that wouldn’t ruin the moment.

“Yeah! I’ll be back real soon. And I’ll bring you a ton of gifts, okay?”

Her crying softened... just a little. But even if the tears stopped, the worry in her heart didn’t vanish so easily. To her, Shiro was more than just family. He was her light in lonely days, her teacher, her playmate—her everything. Of course she didn’t want him to go.

But in the end... she accepted it. Because if she really loved her brother, she had to let him go—even if it was only supposedly for a short time.

Suddenly, she went quiet. Huh. Was that whole emotional breakdown just an act?

...Nah, no way. She’s just a *kid.*

“You’ll come back soon, right?”

She wiped her tears with the sleeve of her shirt as she asked.

“You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

“Okay... just be safe, okay?”

Of course, no one had forgotten one crucial fact:

Shiro was weak.

Like, seriously weak.

Don’t go expecting some hidden talent to awaken or some dramatic power-up overnight. This wasn’t that kind of story.

…Or maybe it was?

“Don’t worry,” he said with a grin. “I’ll get stronger and come back.”

That finally did it. Alia calmed down, her waterfall of tears replaced by a wobbly, half-hearted smile.

Shiro slung his bag over his shoulder, just as Alia suddenly hit him with one last question—her voice still trembling from the remnants of her earlier sobbing.

“Are you... walking all the way there? Don’t you need a horse or something?”

“...Eh?”

And with that one innocent question, Shiro’s brain screeched to a halt.

Right.

He hadn’t even thought about how he was going to get there.

Walk? No way. He wouldn’t make it there even if he walked for a whole year. The place was that far. Even on horseback, it’d take months—and that’s not even mentioning the sea he’d have to cross just to reach the academy's territory.

"Uhh... I... maybe...? Eh?"

Shiro scratched his head in confusion, lost in thought—so lost that his bag slipped off his shoulder and landed on the ground with a thud. And just like that, his brain went completely blank.

“Oh my god... You didn’t even think about how you’re getting there, did you?”

Alia's voice cut through the silence like a dagger—sharp, teasing, and dripping with sarcasm. Her brother, who’d been brimming with confidence just moments ago, was now visibly sweating.

He had only four hours to reach the testing grounds. Miss that, and poof—there goes his one shot at making his dream a reality.

“Hehehe, you seriously look ridiculous right now. Chill, chill, don’t hurt yourself thinking too hard,”

their father finally chimed in, chuckling from behind as if he’d been enjoying the show all along.

“…What do you mean?”

Shiro looked back, puzzled.

“Just wait and see for yourself. But before that... I’ve got something for you.”

Cryptic much? Instead of answering the question, Dad just amped up the suspense. He gently set Alia down and disappeared back into the house.

Alia turned to face her brother, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in his look—tattered shirt, torn-up pants, and an overall “I-just-survived-a-bar-brawl” vibe.

“You’re not seriously planning to meet nobles dressed like that… are you?”

she asked, deadpan.

“Huh? Nobles?”

Shiro tilted his head, clearly not following.

“Wait—wait a sec. You do know that place isn’t like our village, right? It’s famous. Haven’t you considered the possibility that there might be actual nobles there? High-ranking people?”

“Wait—how do you even know that kind of stuff?”

“That’s what you’re focusing on?!”

The little girl palmed her face. Honestly, how did her brother’s brain even work?

“No—of course I’ve thought about it. I’m probably gonna run into all sorts of important people there. But what can I do about that?”

Shiro shrugged.

“I’m just a village kid. This is all I’ve got to wear. I don’t see the big deal. I’m not going there to show off my wardrobe... heck, I don’t even have the skills to show off in the first place.”

No shame. No panic. Just calm acceptance.

He wasn’t thinking about making a good first impression or dressing to impress.

All he cared about… was learning. Period.

“I seriously can’t believe you sometimes...”

Alia couldn’t help but smile.

Her brother accepted who he was—weak or strong, noble or commoner—it didn’t matter. That quiet confidence?

Weirdly comforting.

And for some reason… she wasn’t so worried about him anymore.

Their father returned, carrying a sheathed sword and a long black cloak.

“Here—take this. It’s a bit old-fashioned, but it’s better than nothing. And wear this cloak too.”

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“This is...”

Shiro stared at the items in silence.

He didn’t reach out for them immediately.

“I... I can’t take these. They’re yours, aren’t they? I don’t need the sword. You should keep it—just in case something happens here. My fists’ll do just fine.”

He couldn’t bring himself to take the only thing his father could use to protect himself—or the village—if something went wrong.

Their world wasn’t exactly a peaceful place. Especially not out here, in the boonies.

Wild monsters were a real threat. No one knew where they came from. Villages like theirs? They were prime targets. This one alone had been attacked *four* times in the past few years.

Sure, attacks were rare. But rare didn’t mean *never.*

And this village… it was full of elderly folks. Not exactly monster-hunting material. And weapons?

They barely had any.

“Don’t be stupid, son.”

His father chuckled.

“You think I’d give this to you without a backup plan? I’ve still got my bow and plenty of arrows. Stop worrying and just take it.”

Now that he knew his dad had another weapon, Shiro hesitated for just a moment before reaching for the sword. He unsheathed it—revealing a pale, battered blade. The edge was chipped, and cracks ran along every inch. It looked like it had seen better centuries.

The sheath, though? Surprisingly fancy—deep red, with the image of a coiled dragon etched into the surface.

Shiro smiled and gave a small bow of thanks before sliding the sword back into its sheath and strapping it to his bag.

Then came the cloak.

“Whoa, I’ve never seen this before. Is it new?”

Alia tilted her head, curious.

“Well... technically no,” their father replied.

“I found it with Shiro, the day I first stumbled on him. It was used to cover him—back when he was just a baby. It was huge on him back then. But now... it fits perfectly. So I figured, why not?”

Yeah… Shiro knew.

This man wasn’t his real father.

And that girl wasn’t his real sister.

All three of them knew. Even little Alia.

One day, years ago, this man had opened his door and found a small wooden box on his doorstep. Inside was a sleeping infant, wrapped in a black cloak.

And next to him? A note.

*“To the one who reads this, I entrust this child to you. Please raise him as your own. One day, his true parents will return to claim him."*

“You slept for three straight days. I was honestly worried. Thought maybe you were cursed or half-dead. I was this close to stuffing you in a box and storing you away—bwahahaha!”

“…A box, huh. Y’know... I’m glad you didn’t toss me in a river instead.”

Not exactly a great joke,

but hey… they laughed anyway

Shiro dropped his bag and slipped into the black cloak. It fit him surprisingly well. Just a plain black cloak… but somehow, it looked good on him.

"How do I look?"

He turned to ask, a bit unsure.

Alia beamed at him, flashing a thumbs-up. Before she could say anything, their father chimed in:

"Yeah, you look like a proper adventurer. Just do your best out there—don’t mess it up, alright?"

"Don’t worry! I’ll be back before you kno—"

He never got to finish. Right then, a massive dragon with wings that could blot out the sun descended from the sky and landed right in front of their house, whipping up a gust of wind that nearly sent them flying. Shiro and Alia froze, trembling. Their father, though? Totally unfazed. The guy looked like this was just Tuesday for him.

Shiro tilted his head up and saw a man in black-and-white formal wear riding the dragon like it was a horse. Apparently, that was normal in their world. Sure. Why not?

The rider, average build and carrying a book in one hand, dismounted with practiced ease. He walked over to Shiro, whose confidence was now shrinking with every step the man took. But then the stranger smiled kindly and spoke in a soft, polite tone.

"Hello there. Sorry about the entrance. My dragon nearly blew your house away, didn’t he?"

"Ah—no, no, it’s fine! Everything’s totally fine!"

Shiro’s dad answered quickly before anyone could panic.

The man gave a small, respectful bow.

"Would you happen to be… Mr. Shiro Leonard?"

He glanced at Shiro as he said it.

The word “Mister” hit Shiro like a brick. Mister? No one had ever called him that before. His dad called him “boy,” Alia called him “idiot,” and the village elders didn’t even bother with his name—they just shouted “hey kid” when they needed him.

Shiro hesitated, mouth half-open, but his father stepped in again.

"Yes, that’s him. Shiro Leonard."

The man gave Shiro a once-over. The cloak covered the rough patches in his clothes, but it didn’t take a genius to guess his background.

Without dropping his polite tone, the man gestured toward the dragon.

"Please come with me. I’ll be taking you to the Academy."

Shiro blinked. The Academy? On a dragon?

This wasn’t just anything—this was a creature known for leveling entire kingdoms. It could probably melt a mountain with one breath. And now he was supposed to ride it?

He didn’t move.

His dad noticed the fear in his eyes and gave him a gentle shove forward. "Go on. He won’t bite."

"...R-right. Let’s hope so."

Shiro looked over his shoulder. Alia was smiling at him… smirking, actually.

*Quit laughing,You were scared too!*

The rider stepped closer and raised his right hand. It glowed faintly green. A gentle wind swirled around Shiro, lifting him—despite his shaky limbs—and placing him carefully into the dragon’s saddle.

"See? He won’t hurt you. I take it this is your first time on a dragon, right?"

Without waiting for an answer, the man leapt effortlessly onto the saddle in front of him.

"Uh… yeah. First time."

"No worries, you’ll get used to it. Riding dragons is pretty common. Just think of it like riding a horse."

*Problem is, I’ve never ridden a horse either…*

And now here he was, sitting on a flying death-lizard. What a glow-up.

A shiver ran down his spine as he turned to see his father and sister waving at him.

"Do your best, kid! Don’t come back empty-handed!"

"Crush them all, big bro!"

Shiro grinned and waved back… then the dragon’s wings snapped open, and suddenly—

WHOOSH.

They were airborne, cutting through the sky like a missile.

"WHOOOOAAAA THIS THING IS FAST!!"

The dragon steadied in the air, gliding smoothly. Shiro stopped screaming, cautiously opening his eyes. Clouds brushed against his cheeks. His village—his home—was already shrinking in the distance.

"Seems like you’ve got a nice family," the rider said, without turning around.

"Yeah… they really are."

---

Back on the ground, Alia was still staring at the rapidly shrinking dot in the sky.

"Dad… when will Shiro be back?"

Her father folded his arms and looked up, his voice low.

"That depends on what he does out there."

She didn’t really get what he meant. But she didn’t press further.

She simply kept her eyes on the sky, silently wishing her brother the best of luck..

---

Far away from the quaint little village, far from the family that had just grown smaller by one—

In the very heart of the Kingdom of Wysperia stood its capital, a city that never truly slept. It buzzed with life—day and night, streets always bustling, noise always present. Only one other city in the world could match its liveliness.

By day, it was a merchant's paradise. Peddlers and traders from across the continent filled the world-famous capital marketplace, where you could find everything from mystical weapons to enchanted cookware.

But by night, the city changed its face. The sun may rest, but the sins of man never did. Slave markets, underground gambling rings, taverns reeking of spirits and regret—they all came to life. There was a saying often passed around Wysperia’s alleys:

“The day belongs to everyone. The night? Only to a few.”

In this world, slavery and the sale of magical beasts weren’t exactly illegal. But they weren’t something people flaunted, either. Most nobles who owned slaves did so not out of necessity, but for... baser reasons. Exotic pleasures. Carnal desires. Nothing noble about it.

Yeah, welcome to Wysperia.

Oh, and let’s not even get started on the social hierarchy. The capital was divided by more than streets and bridges—it was sliced into three massive districts, separated by thick, towering walls that could rival the ramparts of a fortress.

First, the Outer District—right beyond the city’s gates. This was the land of the commoners and merchants. Crowded, chaotic, and full of life. It was the biggest of the three, and the most alive. Markets, inns, travelers, adventurers—you name it, you’d find it here.

Next came the Noble District, sealed off behind the second wall. Commoners didn’t step foot here unless they wore a collar and served a noble house. Lush gardens, elegant homes, carriages polished to a shine—this was where the upper crust lived. Minor lords, military commanders, and high-ranking mages strolled these streets.

And lastly, nestled behind the third and most imposing wall—the Royal District. This place didn’t even pretend to welcome outsiders. Not even high nobles could enter unless they held a direct invitation from the royal family.

The Royal District itself was oddly divided in two. The Upper Royal Quarter housed the main royal bloodline—the king, the queen, their children, and their ancestors’ lineage. The Lower Royal Quarter belonged to the extended royal family—siblings of the king and queen, their spouses, and their offspring.

Yes, it was a ridiculous amount of bureaucracy and division. Just to breathe the same air as the king, you’d need three generations of noble blood, a royal decree, and maybe a small miracle.

Now, inside the innermost sanctum of this over-divided city, deep within the royal castle patrolled by dozens of elite guards—sat the man himself.

Oliver Wyfer, second monarch of Wysperia since the war ended, reclined lazily on his jeweled throne. Golden crown on his head, robes threaded with pure gold draped over his frame, and an expression of mild, but refined boredom in his blue eyes.

He shifted in his seat slightly, adjusting his posture before sighing lightly and raising a hand at the servant kneeling before him.

“Stand. And speak.”

The servant quickly obeyed, rising to his feet and delivering his message without delay.

“Your Majesty, the admission trials for Stalefort Academy are about to commence. The headmaster has extended an invitation for you to witness the opening ceremony of the forty-seventh enrollment.”

Forty-seven years. Forty-seven classes. Fifty years since the founding of the academy.

Every year, without fail, the king of Wysperia attended the trials. And not just him. The kings of Lutheria and Linderia also sent representatives—if not came themselves. That was how much prestige this academy held.

“Hmm... Stalefort,” the king muttered, tapping the arm of his throne. “Remind me—who are the standout candidates this year?”

"Your Majesty, it is expected that each of the six famed clans across the kingdoms will be sending members to participate in the examination. Furthermore, the King of Linderia is said to be sending his daughter as a candidate. And let us not forget the Kingdom of Luthiria, which has dispatched fourteen participants—each of whom has already reached a respectable level of magical proficiency."

Of course. Every year, the children of nobility and power flocked to the academy. Sons of generals, daughters of ancient clans, apprentices of famed heroes. Even just qualifying for the entrance exam was enough to raise a family's status.

The king chuckled and glanced up at the painted ceiling above—murals of history, bloodshed, and victory. Then he looked back down at his attendant with a wry smile.

“Sounds like a promising batch,” he said with a yawn. “Unfortunately, I’ll have to decline this time. I’ve got better things to do than watch a group of overhyped children get their dreams crushed in an exam no sane person would volunteer for.”

With that, he rested his head back in his hand, eyes drifting elsewhere as his thoughts returned to whatever burdens a king carried—silent, secret, and hidden behind a smile no one could ever read.

---

Back on the dragon’s back, Shiro found himself lost in thought. He couldn’t stop wondering about that infamous entrance exam—what kind of test it was, and why it was said to be nearly impossible to pass. In the previous intake, out of 300 applicants, only 80 had been accepted. The rest had returned home empty-handed. Maybe it required some sort of special talent... or maybe just a ridiculous amount of luck—more than anyone could possibly hope to have.

As Shiro’s mind spiraled deeper into speculation, the clouds above suddenly parted, revealing a vast, walled land below. At its center stood a massive building, in side of which stretched a giant free space—easily the size of his entire village, if not larger. Beside the main structure was a large, circular arena surrounded by tiered spectator stands. And just behind that towering building loomed a dense, tangled forest, so dark and ominous that even from up here, he could feel the aura of terrifying creatures lurking within. Enclosing it all was a colossal stone wall, encircling the entire region like a fortress.

There was only one obvious way in—a gigantic gate that opened directly onto the plaza before the academy.

But that wasn’t all. In front of the gate was a bustling village, alive with activity and energy. It was clear this wasn’t just some academy tucked away in the middle of nowhere—this was an entire territory, purpose-built for it. It looked more like a small, independent kingdom sitting at the heart of the world.

Shiro was still in awe, his eyes darting around to take in every detail of the breathtaking scene, when the dragon suddenly began its descent. With a powerful flap of its wings, it landed before the enormous gate leading into the academy’s plaza.

“We’ve arrived,” the man said simply.

Dismounting his dragon, he summoned the same gust of wind as before to gently lower Shiro to the ground. As his feet touched the earth, Shiro looked up at the titanic wall—so tall its top was completely hidden from sight.

“Don’t just stand there.”

Snapped from his thoughts, Shiro glanced at the man before nodding and walking toward the massive gate. Two guards stood by, wearing uniforms identical to the man’s. They gave him a quick glance, then placed their hands on the gate. A smaller door embedded in the center slowly creaked oope.

“Go on. This is as far as I go. Beyond this gate is where the entrance exam will take place. Do your best, alright?”

Shiro gave a determined nod and stepped through the gate.