Chapter 1

A grand and influential kingdom, Auroria Dominion is renowned for its wealth, advanced magic, and unmatched political power. It stands as a beacon of excellence and leadership in the royal world. At its heart lies Solstice City, a magnificent capital with towering spires, lush gardens, and a harmonious blend of ancient and modern architecture. This city is the kingdom's vibrant core, celebrated for its prosperity, cultural achievements, and formidable military. Auroria Dominion attracts the best minds and talents from across the royal world, and it is home to the esteemed Arcanum Royal Institute.

Ruled by the wise and just monarch, Queen/King Aldara, the kingdom thrives on technology, magical innovation, and a rich heritage of ancient knowledge. The royal family is deeply involved in the school's affairs, and their strong leadership ensures the kingdom's continued success. The economy of Auroria Dominion is robust, supported by diverse industries, including enchanted artifacts and rare resources.

On the day before the first day of school, the amethyst and silver halls of Arcanum Royal Institute were empty, save for the class reps and teachers setting up their classrooms. In the gym, seniors, juniors, and sophomores gathered to prepare for introducing the freshmen. Cheerleaders practiced their routines for the school's grand introduction, filling the air with excitement and anticipation.

However, in the headmaster's room, a tense conversation unfolded. King Aldara and his younger brother, Headmaster Thaddeus Aldara, were in the midst of a heated discussion. Thaddeus exhaled in frustration, rubbing his temples. "Percy, I respect your authority and the legacy our parents left us—me with the school and you with the kingdom—but inviting the offspring of that… devil is madness!" he exclaimed.

King Aldara nodded thoughtfully, stroking his chin. "I understand your concerns, Thad, but c'mon, do you honestly think that a child should be raised in captivity? I wanna make a change, he's been in there since he was a baby, who knows what he knows and doesn't know? I need you." He put his hand out.

Headmaster Thaddeus sighed, conceding then shaking his brother's hand with a strong grip. "Alright, but how are we even going to get the kid? He's in Caldara Bastille, in the Ironclad Isles—a prison teeming with the worst monsters and demons. It's practically purgatory. How are we supposed to reach the otherworld?"

As their conversation grew more intense, a freshman girl entered the room. Dressed in an amethyst and silver dress, with sparkly makeup and a tiara, she called out, "Father!" Thaddeus quickly hid the prophecy scroll in a desk drawer. King Aldara smiled nervously at his daughter. "Y-yes, Rue?"

Rue, the princess of Auroria Dominion, crossed her arms and leaned against the doorway. "I don't see why I have to greet these bratty freshmen tomorrow. They're immature, and it's pointless," she pouted.

Thad chuckled. "Aren't you a freshman?"

Rue's pout deepened. "Uncle Thad! That's irrelevant! I've had excellent grades from kindergarten to eighth grade, I'm incredibly good at sky jousting (a sport where students ride magical creatures or flying apparatuses and compete in aerial duels, usually reserved for older students), and I've created incredible cybernetic implants, despite not even having a yellow card!" she declared proudly.

"Yeah, maybe it's because you're a red card and your dad pays for them," Thad teased.

Rue stomped her foot. "Dad! Tell Uncle Thaddeus to stop picking on me!" she whined.

King Aldara and Thaddeus laughed heartily. "Sorry, honey! Thad, leave my daughter alone," King Aldara said between chuckles. He walked up to Rue and gently rubbed her head. "Chin up. You know it's your mother's doing. If it were up to me, I'd let you spend time in Antler Chain Forest taming creatures."

Suddenly, a voice echoed from a mirror nearby. "I heard that, Percival!" They turned to see Queen Aldara in the phone mirror. King Aldara gulped and smiled nervously. "S-sorry, dear!"

The queen was adorned in amethyst and silver, similar to Rue but with more extravagance. "Rue, I need you right this instant, young lady. You've only practiced your introduction for two hours. It must be perfect!" Rue groaned but nodded. "Yes, mother." She gave King Aldara a kiss on the cheek and waved as she exited the room, heading for the castle.

As she left, Thaddeus sighed, then his eyes lit up with an idea. "I know the perfect person to get him."

Percival smirked, catching on. "You mean the dragon hybrid?"

Thaddeus nodded. "It's risky. He only ever helps the school if he's doing something exciting."

Percival rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well, if he's going to subdue the son of the greatest wizard in history—Merlin—then he'll definitely be satisfied."

Meanwhile, in Ironclad Isles, Caldara Bastille looms like a dark sentinel on the desolate Ironclad Isles, its formidable presence a testament to its grim purpose. The fortress, built from blackened stone and shrouded in a perpetual mist, stands isolated amidst jagged cliffs and treacherous seas. It is a place where light seems to be swallowed by the eternal gloom, casting an aura of dread over all who approach.

The Bastille's towering spires pierce the overcast sky, their sharp edges silhouetted against the dim light. Massive iron gates, adorned with twisted runes and ancient sigils, guard the entrance. The walls are thick and impregnable, reinforced with enchantments that prevent any escape and keep the monstrous denizens of the realm at bay.

Inside, the atmosphere is oppressive and claustrophobic. Dimly lit corridors, lined with heavy chains and barred cells, echo with the distant sounds of despair and the clinking of metal. The air is thick with a cold, damp chill that seeps into every corner of the fortress. Guards, clad in dark armor and armed with enchanted weaponry, patrol the halls with a vigilant watchfulness.

The heart of the Bastille is its central dungeon, a sprawling network of underground chambers that delve deep into the earth. Here, prisoners are kept in squalid conditions, their only company the ever-present shadows and the occasional flicker of torchlight. The cells are small, barely large enough for a person to lie down, and are reinforced with magical wards to prevent escape.

Despite its forbidding exterior, Caldara Bastille is a place of dark allure for those who dare to seek it out. It is a realm of forgotten magic and hidden secrets, where the most dangerous and enigmatic of prisoners are held. And somewhere within its labyrinthine depths, a lone figure waits—the son of Merlin, unaware of the impending journey that will take him from this bleak prison to the prestigious halls of Auroria Royal Academy.

In the cafeteria of Caldara Bastille, a cacophony of discordant chatter filled the air as creatures of various races mingled. Humans, goblins, gremlins, and werewolves—every kind of entity one might find in a dark fantasy realm—gathered at their tables, each one a potential threat. The werewolves devoured raw meat with ravenous hunger, while goblins huddled over their meager portions, and gremlins skittered about with malicious intent.

One werewolf, his fur matted with blood from his meal, turned to a goblin seated next to him. "Where's Number Zero?" he growled, his voice carrying a hint of concern.

The goblin shrugged, his eyes darting nervously. "He was up all night again. Lately, he's barely slept. Just sleeps on the ceiling, buried in that tiny book of his. I feel for the kid. He's been here his whole life, and the only ones he's known are us—hardly ideal role models."

The werewolf nodded in understanding, resuming his gnawing on a particularly tough piece of meat. Suddenly, he jolted as a gremlin, bristling with annoyance, shoved a human's plate off the table with a sneer.

"Oh great," the werewolf muttered. "It's the new inmate."

The goblin's eyes widened as he noticed the disturbance. "He'd better cut it out. Number Zero hates being disturbed, especially when he's trying to sleep."

The gremlin, relishing the chaos, leaned in close to the human, spitting venomously. "What's the matter? Too scared to fight back?"

The human remained impassive, his expression unshaken. "It's not you I'm afraid of," he said, his gaze shifting to the gremlin with a chill. "It's Number Zero."

A shiver ran through the gremlin as he noticed the sudden silence that had fallen over the cafeteria. The once lively room had grown eerily quiet, with everyone now eating their food in hushed tones. The gremlin's bravado wavered as he glanced around in confusion. "W-who's Number Zero? What's going on?"

Just then, the heavy door to the cafeteria creaked open, and a guard strode in, wielding a large black sword. "Inmate Zero has awoken," the guard announced, his voice carrying an air of solemnity.

At the announcement, the inmates immediately dropped to their knees, their heads bowed in fear and reverence. The gremlin, frozen in place, stared in disbelief.

The guard stepped aside to reveal another guard pushing a wheelchair into the room. Seated in the wheelchair was a boy who appeared to be around fourteen or fifteen years old. His curly hair was unkempt, purple eyes, and he wore a tattered, ragged robe that hung open to reveal his lean but muscular physique. A metal muzzle encased his mouth, and his arms were bound in a straitjacket, restrained further by chains.

The boy was wheeled to an empty table, where a meal was set before him. As he began to eat, the atmosphere in the cafeteria remained tense, the inmates' reverence underscoring the palpable fear of the enigmatic and feared Number Zero.

The gremlin sneered in annoyance and approached Number Zero's table. A guard stepped in his path. "Please, refrain from interrupting him," the guard warned.

To everyone's surprise, the boy raised a single finger, signaling the guard to stand down. Reluctantly, the guard allowed the gremlin to pass. The gremlin plopped himself onto Zero's table, eyes narrowing as he noticed the array of exquisite dishes before the boy. Moonberry tarts, enchanted truffles, and other delicacies adorned the platter, a stark contrast to the usual prison fare.

Anger flared in the gremlin. "Why do you get this while we get slop?!" he growled, swiping the food off the table. He smirked, expecting to see the boy's reaction, but to his astonishment, the food reappeared instantly in front of Inmate Zero.

The gremlin's eyes widened in disbelief. "How'd he do that?! You can't use magic in Ironclad! I didn't sense any from him anyway. Was that real speed?!" He thought, perplexed.

From behind his muzzle, the boy's muffled voice came. "Don't waste food that the lunch staff cooked for us," he murmured, his tone calm yet firm.

Infuriated, the gremlin leaned in closer. "Who the hell do you think you are?!" he shouted, launching a punch at the boy.

But before his fist could connect, the boy lifted his head, revealing his eyes—purple and soulless. The gremlin froze, paralyzed by the void staring back at him. 

The boy stood up from his seat and grabbed the gremlin by the neck. "On my birthday, you decide to interrupt me? And you bullied one of the few people who cared for me during my childhood?" He slammed the gremlin into the ground with a force that shook the floor. "You're despicable!" Disgust twisted his features. "And on top of that, you disrespected the guards. I hate villains like you."

Immediately, the guards rushed forward, grabbing Inmate Zero and holding him down. "Melanthius!" one guard shouted, chaining the boy up again and preparing to remove him from the cafeteria.

The gremlin, coughing and clutching his neck, stammered, "I-Inmate Zero, w-who are you?!"

Melanthius nodded, his eyes piercing through the room. "Melanthius, the son of the evil overlord and the world's most powerful wizard, Merlin. Call me Mel." He fixed the gremlin with a stern look. "And remember this: bullying is for the weak. If you use strength to hurt people, you might as well kill yourself right now."

As Mel was dragged back to his cell, the freezing cold air and minimal furnishings starkly contrasted with the chaotic cafeteria. The guards threw him in and pulled a lever, activating golden binding chains that hooked his arms and legs. These allowed him some movement but ensured he couldn't leave the cell. Mel wiped the dust from his body, then effortlessly walked up the wall and laid down on the ceiling.

The guard at his door sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Melanthius, you can't just do stuff like that," he admonished.

Mel nodded but remained silent, prompting the guard to continue. "You always act on that moral compass that the renaissance goldman taught you: 'Bullying is for the weak, killing is disgraceful, only use violence when you're forced, real men never hit women unless in self defense,' etc. That's all not gonna work out there in the real world."

Mel jumped down from the ceiling and walked up to the gates. "You want to talk about the real world as if I'm ever leaving? That's rich and a low blow. I've been raised here for 15 years now. I don't know anything beyond these walls besides what they taught me. Magic, dressing myself, potions, hexes, ect. You want to talk about the people who raised me? Let's talk about the ones who didn't." He paused, and the guard looked down in shame.

"The higher-ups who could've raised me, the guards who could've taught me how to groom myself better, my father... my father who's the reason I'm in here because he was an incredibly powerful and evil king that your former king Arthur killed. I was found in a basement of a castle as a baby and immediately put in prison like I was nothing. Like I don't matter in life." His voice cracked, and he took a moment to compose himself. "So maybe put yourself in my shoes before you say that my morals aren't correct."

 he climbed back on the ceiling, this time in a sleeping position. 

"Happy birthday," the guard muttered as another guard wheeled a cake to the cell. They opened the gate just enough to place the cake a few feet away from Mel before stepping back and locking the gate. With a sigh, they walked away, leaving Mel alone.

A few hours later, Mel woke up, yawning and stretching as he jumped down from the ceiling. He glanced outside, gauging the time by the position of the clouds. "Looks to be about four o'clock," he muttered. Turning to the cake the guards had brought him, he walked over and opened the box. "I should be able to enjoy my birthday; after all, you only turn fifteen once."

He cut a slice and took a bite, savoring the rich chocolate flavor. "Hm, they used fairy bread? Seems like they went all out," he noted while chewing. Suddenly, he winced, biting into something hard. "Ow!" he exclaimed, spitting the object into his hand. It was an amethyst diamond. Raising an eyebrow, he noticed an envelope sticking out of the cake. "What's this?"

Curious, he pulled out the envelope, which was decorated with amethyst and silver glitter. He ripped it open and began to read the contents inside.

Auroria Dominion

Arcanum Royal Institute

Solstice City

Dear Melanthius,

We are pleased to extend to you a formal invitation to join the esteemed academy of Arcanum Royal Institute, located in the heart of Solstice City, within the Auroria Dominion. Our institution is renowned for cultivating the finest minds and talents from across the royal world.

Your royal blood and potential have come to our attention, and we believe that your presence at Arcanum Royal Institute will be invaluable. Here, you will have the opportunity to refine your skills, expand your knowledge, and forge bonds with the brightest and most influential students from royal families.

As a student with a unique and powerful background, you will be granted the highest rank within our institution, symbolized by the Black Card. This card not only represents your immense power but also grants you access to exclusive resources, advanced magical training, and unparalleled opportunities for growth.

The new school term begins on the 1st day of the Autumn Equinox. A royal escort will arrive at Caldara Bastille to accompany you to the Institute. Please be prepared for departure at dawn.

We look forward to welcoming you to Arcanum Royal Institute and witnessing the extraordinary contributions you will undoubtedly make to our illustrious academy.

With highest regards,

Thaddeus Aldara

Headmaster of Arcanum Royal Institute

Mel read the letter, his eyes widening with a mix of surprise and curiosity. This was the chance he had never expected—a chance to step beyond the prison walls and into a world of limitless possibilities. "Yes!" he exclaimed, breathing heavily. "I-I'll finally be able to get out of these walls!" He couldn't believe it, but suddenly, the air grew cold, and the wall behind him shattered into pieces. Mel shielded his face from flying debris, coughing to clear the dust from his lungs.

As the dust settled, he saw a towering man with blue dragon scales descend in front of him. The man had a muscular physique, dragon wings, yellow eyes, and fanged teeth. "Melanthius Shadowbane, I am Draven Stormclaw. I am here to escort you to Auroria Dominion, where we'll get your supplies from Solstice City. You will attend the Arcanum Royal Institute, where only the children of kings and queens from across the world attend. We've already informed the prison of your departure, so you must leave immediately."

Mel paused, processing the information. "I have to leave without saying goodbye to my people?" he asked. Draven nodded. "That's just how it is. Chin up; it's not like you won't see them again when you're an amazing wizard in the future."

Mel looked around his cell, a hint of nostalgia on his face. He clenched his fists and nodded. "Yes, I would be honored!"

Draven approached Mel, cutting the binding chains that held him. Without warning, Draven punched Mel in the cheek, sending him flying out of the prison. Mel groaned as he flew through the air, and Draven came behind him, kicking him into the ground. "See, I'm meant to escort the black cards into the school. The black cards are the ones with powerful parents.

The rankings at the Arcanum Royal Institute are as follows:

White Card: Intelligence

Meaning: Awarded to students who excel in intellectual pursuits, including academics, strategy, and problem-solving. These students are known for their sharp minds and are often seen as future advisors or scholars.

Yellow Card: Technology

Meaning: Given to students who demonstrate exceptional skill and innovation in the fields of science and technology. These students are the inventors and engineers of the future, often working on advanced magical and technological projects.

Red Card: Higher-Up Royal Students

Meaning: Reserved for students who are directly in line for significant royal titles or positions. These students are groomed for leadership and governance, receiving specialized training in diplomacy, politics, and leadership.

Black Card: Power

Meaning: The highest rank, awarded to students who possess extraordinary magical or physical power. These students are recognized for their unmatched abilities and potential to become powerful figures in the kingdom." 

Draven explained with a grin as he descended, placing his foot firmly on Mel's neck. "See, I love a good fight. When I heard I'd get the honor of escorting the son of Merlin, my fighting spirit soared. Here's the deal: if you can get me on the ground, you're free to go. And don't think you're the only one I've tested like this."

Mel struggled, gasping for breath as he tried to dislodge Draven's foot. Desperation sparked a plan in his mind. He lifted his leg and aimed a sharp kick at Draven's groin. Draven recoiled, clutching himself. "That was a low blow! You've got some guts, White Card level!" He grimaced as Mel scrambled to his feet, catching his breath.

Mel remembered his teachings: "Only use violence when absolutely necessary." Fueled by that resolve, he launched a powerful kick to Draven's face, sending him crashing into a nearby rock. Draven lay motionless for a moment, then stirred as the scales on his body shifted, transforming into a sleek, high-tech suit of armor.

"Let's see how you handle advanced technology," Draven declared confidently, his armor gleaming. "The Arcanum Royal Institute excels because we blend magic with cutting-edge tech." With a sudden burst of speed, Draven lunged at Mel, delivering a rapid series of metallic strikes.

Draven's strikes came in a blur of metallic swiftness, each blow forcing Mel back. The armor-clad dragon hybrid moved with a precision that seemed almost inhuman, his every hit finding its mark. Mel tried to counter with quick kicks and blocks, but Draven's agility and the technology-enhanced armor outmatched him.

Draven's armored gauntlets glinted as they struck Mel's sides and shoulders. Each impact sent jolts of pain through Mel's body, the force of the blows driving him further back. Mel's breath grew ragged as he struggled to keep up, his earlier confidence beginning to wane under the relentless assault.

Mel ducked and dodged as best as he could, but Draven's attacks were relentless. The dragon hybrid's movements were a perfect blend of speed and power, making it nearly impossible for Mel to land a solid counter. Every time Mel attempted to retaliate, Draven was already a step ahead, his armored limbs moving with calculated efficiency.

In a moment of sheer brutality, Draven unleashed a spinning kick that sent Mel crashing into the wall of the prison. The impact rattled through his bones, and he slid to the ground, gasping for air. Draven stood over him, his eyes glowing with an eerie mix of pride and cold determination.

"You're good, kid," Draven said, breathing heavily but maintaining a fierce edge in his voice. "But you've got a lot to learn if you're going to make it at the Arcanum Royal Institute. This is just the beginning."

Draven lunged at Mel with a knee aimed directly at his face. Mel, recalling his teachings, muttered, "Everything has a weakness. And suits of armor have their joint locks!" Just as Draven's knee was about to connect, Mel twisted out of the way, deftly capturing Draven's arm in a flying arm bar. The metal joints of the suit groaned under the strain, and with a sudden, sharp crack, the arm broke free from its socket.

Draven staggered back, his eyes wide with shock. "You know the weaknesses of armor?" he gasped. "You're now at yellow card level!" His face twisted into a malicious grin as he suddenly surged forward, slamming Mel to the ground with a brutal force. Draven's armored boot scraped against Mel's skin as he dragged him through the dirt, every movement an expression of his dark pleasure. "For the red card, you need a special kind of training. And as I said, I love to fight."

Struggling to rise, Mel shook off the dirt and prepared for the next onslaught. Draven's grin widened as he readied himself for another attack. The two clashed with renewed intensity. Draven's strikes were relentless, powered by the suit's advanced technology, but Mel's resolve was unwavering.

As they clashed, Mel's eyes locked onto Draven's movements, keenly searching for any vulnerabilities in his advanced armor. With every attack, Mel deftly dodged and parried, his mind racing to anticipate and counter Draven's relentless onslaught. The air around them crackled with the raw energy of their battle, a dramatic interplay of strategy and sheer force.

Draven, grinning maniacally, continued his assault, his powerful strikes meeting Mel's determined defenses. "What's your strategy for this?!" he taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance. Mel, undeterred, matched Draven's punches with unwavering resolve. Despite the impressive armor Draven wore, the fight remained evenly matched.

"There's no grand strategy," Mel replied, his voice steady and confident. With a swift move, he deflected Draven's fist and used his momentum to execute a precise pivot kick. The impact sent Draven reeling, the force of the kick striking him squarely in the face. "I just know how to fight!" Mel declared, his eyes burning with fierce determination.

As Draven staggered, the battle's intensity heightened, with Mel's unyielding spirit and raw skill pushing him to press the advantage.

Draven slowly rose to his feet, rubbing his chin with a bemused smile. "You pass!" he declared with a hearty chuckle. But Mel, still riding the high of adrenaline, didn't let up. He pressed on with his attacks, each strike a blur of motion that Draven deftly evaded.

"Hey! I said you passed!" Draven shouted, exasperation creeping into his voice. Mel, eyes gleaming with determination, reached into his pocket and pulled out his small book. He tossed it to Draven, who caught it with a puzzled expression. Instantly, the book's immense weight exerted its full force, yanking Draven to the ground.

Draven's eyes widened in disbelief as he struggled to rise. "This thing weighs 10 trillion tons! It's dragging my hand underground!" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with both awe and frustration.

With measured calm, Mel approached, his breathing steady and controlled. He knelt beside Draven and effortlessly lifted the book from the ground. "Now I've passed," Mel said with a quiet confidence, his gaze steady as he met Draven's astonished eyes.