Zero

Mysterious Stranger

It was the last day of the season at Verenthia Academy, a place steeped in ancient magic and perilous training, where dreams of glory often clashed with the stark realities of fate. Years had passed since the tragic "Dragon Fight" incident, leaving shadows of grief and loss hanging over the academy's hallowed halls. The once-vibrant laughter of students was now haunted by the specters of their fallen peers—those brave souls who had ventured too close to the flames of ambition, only to be consumed by them. In response to this calamity, the elders devised a new rule: the new recruits were to join guilds, bound to seasoned warriors who wielded experience like a shield against the cruel whims of destiny. Among the throng of eager hopefuls stood Jaylen, the prodigy whose brilliance shone like a beacon amidst the dim echoes of loss. With his striking purple eyes and ethereal elf features, he was the envy of many, a jewel coveted by every guild in the realm. Yet, as he sat in his chair, frustration bubbling within him, Jaylen felt a restless spirit that refused to be tethered by convention.

"UGHHHHHH—" he groaned, spinning in a whirlwind of discontent. "All these guilds suck! I want something cool...dangerous—" His words hung in the air like a challenge, a spark igniting the whispers of adventure that danced in the corners of his mind.

For Jaylen, the allure of danger was not just a thrill; it was a calling. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an enchanting golden glow across the academy's grounds, he envisioned a world beyond the mundane: one filled with enigmatic quests, fierce battles, and the chance to forge his own destiny amidst the ashes of the past. Little did he know, a path wrought with peril and wonder awaited him, ready to test the very limits of his courage and skill.

He leaned back in his chair, an air of arrogance cloaking him like a second skin, as he contemplated his next move. Just as he began to lose himself in thoughts of greatness, a small voice sliced through the silence—a smooth British accent laced with a sharp undertone that belonged to none other than Irillia, the diminutive elf girl. Her blonde hair shimmered, and her petite frame contrasted starkly with the bravado of her words. "Well...you could just choose your classes one—" she chimed, feigning nonchalance.

Jaylen spun around, a dismissive smirk plastered on his face. "Oh shush— I need to find the perfect one for MY skills, not just anyone deserves me," he sneered, a soft laugh escaping him.

With an exasperated roll of her eyes, Lirael turned on her heel, her slender figure disappearing out the door as she muttered, "You're so vain and self-centered, I can't wait for the guild to knock you flat."

Jaylen, undeterred, simply scoffed, folding his hands behind his head as he gazed out the window. A wave of self-satisfaction washed over him. "What does she know?" he mused, his bright purple eyes reflecting the vibrant world outside. "I have a reason to be so 'self-centered'; I'm absolutely amazing." True, he was the pride of his class, a freshly minted dragoon whose skill with a spear was unparalleled. But it was his mystical purple eyes that set him apart, a rare birthright that whispered of a power yet to be fully realized. With a sigh that echoed the weight of his ambition, Jaylen pushed himself to stand, determination igniting within him.

The time had come to choose a guild, the next step in his journey towards greatness. But with so many to choose from, which destiny would he embrace? The thrill of adventure awaited, and with it, the chance to prove he was indeed the magnificent hero he believed himself to be.

As Jaylen stepped outside the bustling academy, he was immediately engulfed by the vibrant chaos of the streets. Merchants hawking their wares, carts clattered by, and guild members strategized animatedly, their voices blending into a lively symphony of ambition and camaraderie.