The desolate training grounds of the Royal Magic Academy stretched out before Eleanor, the silence broken only by her heavy breathing. Her hair stuck to her sweat-drenched face, and her hands trembled as she steadied the magma sphere that was hovering inches above her palm. The heat radiating from it distorted the air, and the fumes entered her lungs, it felt like it was poisoning her.

  Yet, she couldn’t stop.

  Exhaling, she launched the sphere toward a target. It exploded in a fiery burst, the debris scattering across the ground. However, despite the destructive display, Eleanor felt no satisfaction.

  She had the magma element, royal blood, and was a descendant of the founder of Draac. She could not lose to normal people, yet her powers failed her against Erik Blake, a commoner who flew too high.

  She wiped the sweat off her forehead before preparing another attack, her teeth grinding.

  That peasant had totally beaten her. Even after the past few months she spent training with all she had, he still humiliated her by not accepting the duel. How lowly did he think of her? Was she just a stepping stone?

  It couldn’t be. Not her, not Eleanor of Frosthollow.

  After a couple more magic spells, her knees gave in, caving into the ground. Her stretched hands hugged the dirt, being the sole reason her face didn’t get dirty. Sweat dropped off her, wetting the ground.

  She was at her physical limits.

  Her face contorted as the rage built up within her. Her fingers pressed the ground below, dragging dirt to her palms as she clenched her fist.

  “How could he…?” she muttered, her voice trembling. “How could he forget her so easily?”

  Her mother—a hero, the vice-captain of Draac’s dragon-riding squad—had died protecting their nation. Yet her father seemed content to squander that legacy, associating with those who could never understand their sacrifices. The Blakes. They were the embodiment of that futility, a bunch of peasants who had somehow managed to enter her father’s inner circle.

  From the looks of it, Phillips would even marry Erik’s mother one of these days.

  “Why…”

  Eleanor’s mind was consumed with the vision of her mother’s face—the warmth of her smile, the softness of her voice, the way she had always known how to soothe her when the world felt too heavy.

  But that was before the war. Before the day they had both left for Vyralden, a land across the ocean, where Draac’s war raged on. They said there wouldn’t be fighting, it had to do with diplomacy.

  However, only one of them had returned.

  Her father. And now, that same man, that monster, was mingling with peasants—laughing with them as if he hadn’t shattered everything she’d ever known.

  Eleanor gasped, clutching her hand on her chest as it seemed to tighten. It hurt, not from physical exertion, but from her mind.

  “Aaaaargh!” she screamed, her mana started building up around her, turning into droplets of magma. The air was distorted under her pressure and heat, and the ground trembled with the crackling of the falling magma.

  This wasn’t even close to showing how she felt. If only she had the power to do everything she wanted…

  Eleanor walked through the streets of Auryndale. The clamor of merchants, the chatter of the people, the laughter, it all didn’t matter to her, it all seemed to attack her as she made her way through the crowds.

  She had come here to try and find solace somehow, leave that putrid ambient of the academy—but it didn’t work. Everything, anything, rubbed her off wrong right now. Her breathing became shallower and quicker by the minute, both by the rising anger she felt, but also by her sadness. Her mother’s face wouldn’t leave her mind.

  “Erik Blake…” she muttered, tightening her fist. She had heard he was still at the academy, training like her. “He wants to keep humiliating me…” Eleanor shook her head, ignoring these bad thoughts, and pressed on.

  Soon, the laughter and chatter gave way to silence. The polished cobblestone paths gave way to soiled dirt. The buildings, pristine were now mostly wooden barracks, some seemed close to breaking.

  The shift in the atmosphere was palpable. This area of Auryndale was well known as one of the poorest ones. A place recognized as mostly lawless, where crime was often left with impunity.

  It was a scary place, especially for a young girl to come alone, yet that was the exact reason she had come here. She an apprentice mage now, she wasn’t just a little girl. She had royal blood, she had the strongest element, and she had the dignity to recover.

  This was the perfect place to prove she wasn’t weak. To prove she could uphold her mother’s legacy. To prove to Erik Blake that she wasn’t below him.

  “You don’t belong here, academy girl,” a voice sneered from the shadows.

  She ignored it, just briefly looking into the alleyway as she passed along. She was wearing the striking blue academy uniform, most people here would recognize it, making her an easy target.

  That was what she wanted.

  As she walked deeper into the labyrinth of dilapidated buildings, her eyes caught a faded poster pinned to the side of a nearby barrack. It was wrinkled, weathered, torn at the edges, but the words on it were still legible.

  WANTED: KAEL THE EXECUTIONER

  For multiple counts of murder, theft, and criminal activity.

  Bounty: 10,000 Crowns

  Warning: Extreme danger, known for ruthlessness and combat skill.

  Last seen in Auryndale.

  Even Eleanor herself could only swallow at seeing that poster. Ten thousand crowns. It wasn’t a bounty a thug would usually earn in this area—most didn’t even have bounties. From the looks of it, this poster was old so hopefully, the situation had already been dealt with.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Then, out of nowhere, a voice broke through her thoughts. “What do you think you’re doing here, princess?” someone mocked.

  Eleanor spun her heel, her gaze falling on a group of men in ragged clothes. They lazily leaned against a crumbling wall, their smiles showing missing teeth, their faces full of scars.

  “Is this a game to you, girl?” one of them said, taking a step forward.

  Eleanor watched every single one of their details. No weapons in sight. Besides, they mostly likely weren’t mages—having an awakened mana core was just too rare for them to be living in such a place.

  “Don’t talk to me like that, peasant,” she confidently said, her voice cold as she glared down at them.

  They laughed at her remark. “Oh, looks like we’ve got a little noble here,” he said getting closer. “Come on, come with us—”

  Before he could even finish, she kicked him in the stomach, her enhanced strike sending him hurling backward.

  Bodily enhancement. It was one of the most basic skills any decent mage should master—after all, it doesn’t matter one can destroy a whole village in one swoop if a knife could still kill them.

  The other men trembled after watching the situation.

  “W-What was that?”

  “It’s magic, you idiot! That academy bitch…”

  The one she kicked hugged his stomach, his face strained from pain as he bent forward. “Urghh,” he threw up on the ground.

  “I warned you, peasants,” Eleanor said, a devilish smile curling up from ear to ear. She raised one hand, and magical pressure turned into magma around her fingers. She would show them who she was.

  “Enough,” someone else said.

  The words were cold and imposing, for the briefest of moments they broke her concentration, dissipating the spell.

  The bandits seemed to freeze, their attention shifting to the dark alley from which the voice had come. Eleanor’s heart skipped a beat as a tall, imposing hooded figure stepped into the light.

  He took off his hood, his white hair swayed in the breeze.

  That face… Eleanor’s eyes widened. That was him.

  Kael the Executioner.

  “Don’t waste your time with her,” Kael said, his voice chillingly calm. “She’s mine.”

  The men hesitated, glancing at each other, but Kael’s unwavering gaze silenced them. They stepped aside, allowing the Executioner to move toward Eleanor.

  “You’re a mage,” he said, his voice full of disdain. “But even mages like you can’t survive against someone like me.”

  He unsheathed his blade, its edge gleaming in the dim light, and the weight of his presence pressed down on her.

  “W-What, do you think you can beat me? I’m a student of the Royal Magic—”

  Before she even had time to finish, he stepped forward, lunging two daggers from beneath his cloak. Eleanor moved out of the way at the last second and stepped back to gain distance.

  He’s fast! Bodily enhancement?

  She raised her hands, summoning a blast of magma toward him. The molten sphere shot through the air. This attack was enough to open stone walls, it was a death sentence to not dodge.

  But to her surprise, he didn’t flinch.

  With a swift motion, he swung his blades, meeting the sphere mid-air.

  Crack.

  The sphere was cut in half, spilling a stream of magma through the street.

  “H-How,” Eleanor’s eyes twitched, she wondered if she even saw this correctly.

  She didn’t even have time to think before Kael moved again, closing the gap between them in a blur of motion.

  He thrust one of his daggers, coming down in a swift strike aimed at her torso. Eleanor twisted to the side, her fingers crackling mana as she prepared another spell. But before she could release it, Kael stuck an elbow on her face, sending her backward.

  “So weak…” he said with a dead fish expression.

  Eleanor held her bruised cheek, feeling the rising heat and pain. He was too fast, and by his nonchalant look it seemed like he wasn’t even trying—she was completely outclassed.

  Her heart pounded, threatening to open her chest. Her fingers trembled, however, her feet were frozen.

  She was scared. She was nothing to him. Eleanor’s breath caught on her throat. This couldn’t be how she would die, right?

  Once again, he swung his weapons.

  “[M-Molten Barrier],” she said just in time to stop the sword.

  Crack.

  In a fraction of a second, the shield broke, and remnants of magma energy flew everywhere. Her eyes widened. This couldn’t be. Eleanor barely had time to react before one of Kael’s blades pierced her thigh, driving deep into the muscle. She gasped but before anything else, he thrust the other one in her arm.

  Her scream echoed through the alley, sharp and raw, as the searing pain burned through her leg. Her body trembled as she fell to the ground, clutching her wounds. He was playing with her, a slash to the throat was enough to kill, no need to create non-lethal wounds.

  Fear. Raw, unrelenting fear gripped her chest. She would certainly die in here if she did nothing.

  Mother… That image never left her mind. She wondered how her mother had died. Was she happy? Did she have regrets?

  Well, it didn’t matter. Eleanor would meet her soon.

  Then, her father’s face came to mind. A kind man, too kind for his own good, she had hoped he would have listened to her, not betrayed their family in that way.

  Yet, despite all this, a small smile appeared on her face as tears ran down her cheeks. She loved him in the end.

  Then, she thought of Erik. Deep down, she envied him. Someone who struggled to be a commoner managed to become a more powerful mage than her. Could he have survived this battle? He probably would have laughed at the thought of her dying here…

  No… I can’t die yet.

  Eleanor gritted her teeth, ignoring the agony in her leg. She couldn’t die like this, in some slums, at the hands of a killer. Not when she had to prove herself.

  Summoning every ounce of willpower, she gathered the remnants of her strength and chanted a spell under her breath. The air crackled with energy, and an explosion of force surged through her, sending a blast of lava magic directly at Kael’s feet.

  He didn’t even flinch. With a simple step to the side, he dodged the attack effortlessly, but the explosion sent a booming shockwave that shook the ground, sending up a cloud of dust and smoke.

  Coughing through the haze, Eleanor stumbled to her feet, barely able to stand on her injured leg. Her vision blurred, but she knew she had to move, had to run. She pushed herself, limping in the direction of the wealthy areas. She had the will to live, nothing would stop her now.

  That’s when she saw it.

  One of the earlier thugs—the one who had mocked her earlier—emerged from the smoke. His face twisted with a malicious look, and he raised a rusted knife, ready to finish what Kael had started.

  Eleanor could feel her eyes getting heavy, her movements slowing, but she still raised her hand. She would blast him from this world.

  But just before she could strike, a loud voice rang out, followed by the sound of a woosh.

  "[Water Limbs]!"

  A large, water-like tentacle shot out from the smoke, slamming into the thug with crushing force. He was thrown into a nearby building, it was an attack he certainly wouldn’t come back from.

  Eleanor blinked in shock. Who else was here? Another threat? An ally?

  Luckily, she would know soon enough.

  Through the dissipating smoke, she saw her saviors.

  Veronica’s deep blue eyes pierced through the mental darkness Eleanor felt with fierce determination, her presence was a relief. She extended her hands, and in a fluid motion, water began to gather and writhe, forming into long tentacles that seemed to move with their own mind.

  Eleanor had crossed paths with Veronica a few times—both of them from the same house—but never had she seen her like this. Amidst the tension, a small smile flickered on her lips, breaking through the intensity of the moment.

  She could see life.

  “Vero—” as she went to shout her name, her gaze met another person, the very one she was mad at just earlier.

  Erik Blake.