I will become the greatest demon queen

The rhythmic hiss of my katana cutting through the crisp morning air was the only sound in the garden. Dew clung to the edges of vibrant red chrysanthemums lining the path, glittering like shards of glass in the sun's early rays. Each swing, each precise movement, was a balm to my restless mind.

This blade, sleek and unyielding, had become an extension of myself a reminder of the strength I fought to hold onto.

My muscles burned, a welcome sensation, as I practiced the same technique over and over. Perfect form, perfect control, perfect focus.

It was better than thinking.

The garden had been my sanctuary for years, a patch of serenity in a world that pulsed with technology and chaos.

Tall steel skyscrapers loomed just beyond the ivy-covered walls, their mirrored surfaces reflecting the modern pulse of my city. Hover-cars zipped overhead in orderly streams, their engines humming faintly.

Beyond them, trains shot through elevated tracks, sleek and silver, connecting districts at breakneck speed. Yet here, amidst the blossoms and the whisper of bamboo swaying in the breeze, the world's noise softened.

I moved into a low stance, drawing the katana back as if preparing to strike an invisible enemy. A flicker of red light shimmered across the blade my magic, faint but undeniably present.

It always came at the edge of exhaustion, as if reminding me it was there, though stubbornly quiet most of the time.

A sharp trill broke through my focus.

My phone.

I let out a frustrated exhale, sheathing the katana and stepping over to the bench where I'd tossed my things. The screen lit up with a name I didn't recognize probably another notification. But then I saw the time, and my heart lurched.

The results.

My fifth attempt to join the Hero Academy.

I shoved the phone into my pocket and headed toward the house, the weight of what lay ahead pressing down on me.

My hand lingered on the wooden doorframe as I stepped inside, the comforting scent of home, fresh bread and lavender flooding my senses.

The kitchen was alive with sunlight pouring through the wide windows, bouncing off the simple, hand-me-down appliances that hummed quietly in the background.

"Seraphina Dreadthorn!" My mother's voice cut through the calm. "Have you eaten anything today? Or are you out there trying to kill yourself again with that sword?"

She emerged from the hallway, her hands on her hips and her dark hair pulled into a no-nonsense bun.

Despite the annoyance etched on her face, there was warmth in her eyes the kind only a mother could have.

"I was training," I replied, keeping my tone light, though my stomach betrayed me with a loud growl. "I'll eat later, I promise."

"Training," she huffed, moving to the counter to pour herself a cup of tea. "You're always training. It's not healthy. You can't build strength on an empty stomach, you know."

"I'll grab something after my shower," I said, dodging her sharp look as I darted toward the stairs.

I climbed quickly, two steps at a time, the conversation lingering in my mind. My parents meant well. They always had, even when I discovered something they couldn't understand.

Magic.

Most kids showed signs of it before they turned ten. For me, it hadn't surfaced until I was fifteen so faint at first that I thought I was imagining things.

But when I conjured a tiny flicker of flame in the palm of my hand one late summer night, there was no denying it.

My parents had stared at me in stunned silence before plastering on encouraging smiles. Magic was rare enough in our lineage, considering they were both non-magical merchants, but it didn't take long for them to rally behind me.

"You're destined for something great," my father had told me countless times. "We don't know what it is yet, but we'll support you every step of the way."

And they had, through all four of my Hero Academy applications, each rejection cutting deeper than the last.

I stepped into my room and grabbed a towel, heading for the bathroom. The hot water loosened the knots in my shoulders as I washed away the sweat from training, my mind drifting toward the list that awaited me. Four times rejected. Four times told I was "too kind." What did that even mean?

When I emerged, steam trailing me, I paused in front of the mirror. My reflection stared back, fierce and defiant.

My red hair fell in damp strands around my face, and my gray eyes glinted with determination.

I traced the outline of one of the tattoos on my arm a serpent weaving through symbols of strength and transformation. They'd become part of me, each design inked after moments of personal growth.

"You've got this," I said aloud, holding my own gaze. "No matter what happens."

I pulled on a fresh outfit—loose pants, my favorite leather jacket, and boots and grabbed my car keys.

The city outside was already bustling as I stepped into the driveway. My sleek black car was waiting, a gift me and my parent had payed when I graduated high school. As I slid into the driver's seat, I took a moment to take in the world around me.

This city was alive in every sense. Dragons soared lazily above the skyscrapers, their glittering scales catching the sunlight.

A pair of elves walked hand in hand along the sidewalk, their delicate features framed by glowing halos of golden hair.

Across the street, a demon with crimson skin and curling horns was helping a goblin fix a vending machine. Technology and magic coexisted in perfect harmony, a delicate balance that defined our world.

The engine purred as I started the car, merging into the flow of traffic. The closer I got to the Hero Academy, the more my nerves bubbled to the surface.

The school loomed ahead, its towering spires and intricate architecture a testament to its grandeur.

Steel and glass twisted together in seamless design, runes glowing faintly along its edges. The main courtyard was already packed with people, all eager to see the list that would determine their futures.

I parked a few blocks away and walked the rest of the distance, the hum of conversations growing louder with each step. When I reached the crowd, it was easy to see who had been accepted.

Their faces lit up with joy, their cheers echoing through the courtyard as they embraced their friends and families.

I wove through the throng, my heart pounding in my chest. The list was posted on a giant holographic screen near the entrance.

My eyes scanned it once, then twice.

My name wasn't there.

"Failed," I whispered, the word falling from my lips like a stone.