The trip to the academy stretched on in silence.
The steady rhythm of hooves striking dirt was the only sound filling the endless road, a dull clop, clop, clop that drilled into Avin’s skull until he thought he might go mad. Hours bled into each other, broken only by the creak of leather saddles, the occasional flap of a bird overhead, and the rustle of wind through the dense canopy above.
His body ached from riding. His thighs were stiff, his spine sore, and his hands clutched the rope reins so tightly that his palms throbbed. It wasn’t just fatigue—it was the weight of everything he’d been through, pressed into each step of the horse beneath him.
When they stopped by a lake, Avin slid off his horse with stiff, clumsy legs. He crouched at the edge of the water and splashed cold handfuls against his face, scrubbing away the dried blood spattered there from the bandit fight. His reflection stared back at him, warped in the rippling surface—dark hair sticking to his forehead, crimson eyes faint even without focus, lips pressed tight.
He muttered to himself, "Still me... but not really."
Then he shook the thought away, grabbed the rope reins again, and climbed back onto the horse.
They pressed onward, deeper into the forest.
The world narrowed to trees. No villages. No roads branching off. Just endless green, trunks stretching high, branches thick enough to blot out patches of sunlight. Civilization felt like a memory.
Avin’s mind churned with questions.
Why can’t we wait for another carriage? Why not flag down one of those merchants we passed? Why the hell is the academy in the middle of nowhere?
The silence weighed heavier with every unanswered question.
Leo pulled his horse to a stop.
Avin’s mount followed, halting obediently as though it had read the same command. The sudden stillness made Avin straighten. He scanned the woods ahead, but saw only more trees, tall grass, and the same monotonous forest floor.
Leo’s voice cut through the quiet.
Avin blinked. He looked around again, then back at Leo, who sat rigid and calm on his horse.
Leo turned his head just enough to let his green eyes fall on Avin, his expression narrowed and neutral.
Avin stared at him. Then back at the forest. Nothing. Just bark and leaves and shadows.
"What?... But there’s nothing here."
Leo sighed, dragging a hand down his face in open exasperation. He pressed his fingers against his forehead, massaging as though Avin’s ignorance were a physical migraine.
"Use those fucking eyes of yours," he muttered, sharp and tired. "Please."
"My eyes?" Avin repeated, confused. He blinked. "...But—"
The words stuck as the meaning clicked. Leo’s emphasis. His tone. The obviousness.
He inhaled slowly, steeling himself. He imagined the blood rushing to his nerves, energy flooding toward his vision. His body obeyed. His heart pulsed faster.
The forest wavered. The shapes of trees blurred, bending like smoke. Slowly, steadily, the false scenery peeled away.
In its place rose a colossal wall.
White and gold paint gleamed under sunlight, etched into ornate patterns. Its sheer size dwarfed anything Avin had ever seen—more fortress than school, stretching endlessly in both directions. The top bristled with guards in shining armor, spears angled downward, their posture rigid, attention constant.
Avin’s breath caught. His eyes widened at the craftsmanship.
"It’s like... a cathedral married a fortress," he whispered. The thought sparked another. "Wait—this armor... I’ve seen it before."
A memory flashed—Miranda, the church, her gentle hand brushing his hair. The thought twisted his chest, heavy and bitter.
"I wonder what she’s doing right now," he murmured, his mood darkening. But he shook it off, jaw tightening.
"...Dammit. Look at this view."
Because despite everything, it was breathtaking. Even the sky seemed different here—clear, impossibly blue, sunlight shining like polished glass. It contrasted so sharply with the gloomy weather they’d traveled through that it felt unreal, as though the place made its own rules.
There were two suns now. He could feel one burning on his back and see another overhead bathing the academy.
"What the hell is this?" The words slipped out loud before he could stop them.
Leo’s voice slid in smoothly.
"It’s beautiful, right?"
Avin glanced at him. Leo’s grin was sharp, but his eyes gleamed with something heavier—knowledge, possession.
"They call it the ecosystem," Leo explained. "The hero was so powerful that he could bend space itself. Manipulate it. Mold it to his will. This barrier not only cloaks the academy from sight—it filters who may enter. Those with evil intent cannot see it. Cannot pass."
"Ecosystem?" Avin repeated. The word felt alien here.
"Yes," Leo continued. "A sanctuary crafted by one man’s authority. Because of him, this place has survived for generations."
Avin nodded slowly, eyes flicking toward the barrier itself. His gaze caught movement.
Five people. Standing at the invisible edge. Their fists pounded against nothing, palms smearing sweat on the unseen wall. They screamed silently, mouths opening and closing in rage.
Then another figure walked calmly forward and slipped through with no resistance, vanishing inside.
Avin’s throat went dry. "...I see."
Leo’s eyes followed the same scene. His smile thinned.
"Yes. But remember—authority does not last forever. Not even divine authority. His barrier is weakening."
As if to prove his point, one of the desperate men broke through unexpectedly. His face lit with savage triumph—
An arrow shrieked from the wall, piercing his back before he could take two steps. His body slammed into the dirt, pinned. Blood spread like a halo beneath him.
Avin flinched, heart hammering.
Leo’s voice was smooth. "So... drastic measures are used."
Avin averted his eyes, jaw clenched.
Leo turned to him, smile curling again. "So make sure to keep your intentions pure, okay?"
Avin looked at him, narrowing his eyes. You’re one to talk.
They pressed forward. The source of this content ɪs N0velFire.ɴet
The closer they came, the louder Avin’s heart beat.
What if I can’t enter? The thought poisoned him. I’m not from here. Will the barrier see that as evil? Will it spit me out?
Sweat pricked his temple. His mind raced. I’m not pure. Not really. On Earth, I was selfish, useless. What if that counts? What if—
His head jerked around, stunned. They had passed the barrier without resistance. He hadn’t even felt it.
"Please identify yourselves."
The voice barked sharply. A guard stepped forward, armored in ornate silver, spear in hand. He stood tall, intimidating, easily eye-level with Avin despite the horse beneath him.
Leo smiled at once, voice smooth as silk. He pointed lazily toward Avin.
"This is the youngest son of the Chrono Duke of the North, Young Master Avin Nulla-Chrono. And I am his escort."
The guard’s eyes narrowed. He glanced from Leo to Avin, his frown carved deep.
"The barrier lets everyone in now," the guard said coldly. His hand dropped to the hilt of the massive sword at his waist. "You think I’m going to believe you?"
Leo’s smile vanished. His voice dropped low, raspy, dangerous.
"...What did you say?"
Avin turned his head slowly, dread clawing at his spine. Leo’s veins bulged against his neck, his green eyes blazing with that deadly glow.
"Oh no," Avin thought, stomach twisting. This is bad. Really bad.
The guard gripped his sword tighter, half-drawn already. The air crackled.
A voice rang out from behind the gates. All eyes turned as an older man sprinted toward them, waving his arms. His white beard and hair caught the sun, his tuxedo flapping as he stumbled to a halt.
He bent double, hands braced on his knees, wheezing. "Sto—" He gasped for air. "Sto—" Another breath. "Please... he is allowed entry."
Leo relaxed slightly, smile curling back. The guard hesitated, then slowly sheathed his sword, the steel sliding with a sharp shhhk.
Avin’s pulse thundered in his ears.