Emerald Academy

Emerald Academy loomed before Haruki like something pulled straight from the pages of a storybook – rather, if the storybook had been written by someone who had seen a kingdom the size of Mt. Everest. There were plenty of stories on Earth about mythical yokai and monsters, exaggerated by tall tales. But this absolutely was not a hyperbole of the imagination.

The spires of the building towered into the sky, piercing the clouds. Each one crowned with banners that rippled lazily in the mountain breeze. Green-glass windows caught the sunlight, scattering it into thousands of glittering beams that danced across the white stone walls. The main gates were carved from a single slab of obsidian, etched with intricate runes that seemed to shimmer faintly when Haruki looked too long.

Haruki had already seen the Academy from afar when he first got here. But actually standing inside its courtyard was a completely different feeling, of which the structure was crawling like layered Rubik’s cubes. Cobblestone pathways wound through lush gardens where strange flowers bloomed in red, white, blue, black, yellow, orange, transparent, crystal, and even diamond.

Floating lanterns drifted lazily through the air, glowing soft gold even in daylight, and here and there were statues of what Haruki thought to be heroes of the distant past. But their faces were not very detailed at all, like blobs that were barely coming together into spheres, seemingly by intention. Which he found peculiar.

Here, all around him – everywhere – were students. Hundreds, maybe thousands, gathered in the academy’s great entrance plaza. Haruki felt like an ant in a field of giants, craning his neck just to take in the endless tide of black robes. Each robe was cut neatly, trimmed with a white sash, and worn over crisp white shirts with long sleeves. It gave everyone a sense of unity – until he finally took a closer look.

He saw the elves, the dwarves, many of which he was already starting to get more familiar with ever since he arrived here. The same applied to the centaurs and tree folk. Several centaur students trotted confidently toward the registration booths, one of them wore extra metal armor pieces on top of the provided uniform. And another was lugging around a hammer the size of a small pillar.

As for the tree people, many he had already seen from walking around the capital city, but only now did he realize how varied their species really was. Of course, there were tall lumbering ones who looked exactly like a thousand-year-old oak, as tall as a two-story building, with their bark-like skin twisting into knots and branches that sprouted leaves. But then there were other leafy looking men and women who looked much more humanoid. One of them even sported an autumn-like complexion that almost mimicked the human skin. Haruki himself had to squint at this one for him to realize he was not human.

Then Haruki started staring in open disbelief at a cluster of merfolk seated near a fountain – their long, finned tails glimmered with luminous scales, and each wore a shimmering water orb around their heads, keeping them afloat and breathing air like it was nothing.

Squinting his eyes even further, he was shocked to see tiny fairies darting above the plaza in flashes of color, no bigger than a couple of centimeters, leaving behind trails of glittering dust that sparkled like falling stars.

And here he was, some guy from a dirt ball nobody had ever heard of, drowning in this sea of a living fantasy.

The exam grounds stretched out beyond the plaza, separated by massive archways carved with more runes that pulsed faintly, like veins of molten emerald running through the stone. Haruki caught glimpses of what awaited them deeper into this massive courtyard. A wide training field where strange magical barriers rose and fell like breathing creatures, towering obstacle courses lined with crystal spires, and floating platforms suspended high above the ground.

The buzz of the crowd was a thunderous hum of excitement. The air smelled faintly of ink, steel, and flowers. Haruki pulled his own robe tighter around him, the stiff new fabric scratching against his skin. Still in disbelief that he would ever wear a school uniform again.

“Welp… I am definitely going to die.”

“Relax,” Kiera muttered, slipping beside him. She summoned forth a construct of a big fan, flapping against Haruki’s sweaty forehead. “We are civilized people here. Don’t fret.”

“You know, on my world, we have this thing called the Geneva Conventions,” Haruki rattled off his trivia, “it’s basically the rules of war, meant to keep people civilized. But people still kill each other anyway.”

Kiera sighed and gave him a light shove on the shoulder.

“You’ll be fine. Just… breathe.”

But Haruki didn’t have time to breathe. A group of older students was heading their way, laughing loudly and shoving each other. They were all taller, broader, and radiated a kind of easy confidence that screamed of experience. One of them – a towering, broad-shouldered young man with spiky hair – stopped in front of Haruki, smirking.

“Well, well, fresh meat. What’s the matter, little guy? Scared of the big bad exam?”

Haruki almost laughed at how cliché the man was. But he couldn’t really bring forth the courage to do so. Kiera instantly stepped in front of him, however, arms crossed, which managed to calm his nerve ever so slightly.

“Move along,” she said. “We’re focusing.”

The young man chuckled and snapped his fingers. A spark of crimson light bloomed in his palm, crackling and swirling until it burst into a miniature firework, exploding into a dazzling spray of gold and blue sparks above his hand. The crowd around them hooted and whistled.

“Not bad, huh? That’s my Echo.” He spun the lights around his hand, shaping them into a fiery crown before snapping them out with a puff of smoke. “Pretty, right? Might wanna watch where you step during the exam. Wouldn’t want the little guy here to get burned.”

As a response, Kiera’s own gigantic fire construct of a hand appeared right behind the man, tapping his shoulder, before instantly flicking him away with the fire finger so hard he was practically bouncing toward the far wall at the speed of sound. The wall-cracking noise was like that of a popped balloon. And the man stood up, dusting himself off before shouting off a bunch of curses.

Haruki was in awe with the durability of this guy. If that strong flick was basically just to push him along instead of doing serious damage, then what on earth were these people capable of?

“Welp, that takes care of that,” Kiera smiled, getting into a heroic pose.

But before Haruki could respond or even process the moment, the atmosphere shifted.

It was subtle at first, conversations dipped, and laughter softened. But then a ripple of silence spread across the courtyard like a wave. One by one, heads turned toward the massive stone archway leading into the exam grounds.

The Elders had arrived.

A procession of robed figures stepped forward, their garments trimmed in silver and gold, their movements gave off an air of contemplation. The air itself seemed to grow heavier as they passed. Even the rowdy students lowered their voices, bowing their heads slightly in respect.

But all of that paled in comparison to the moment he appeared.

The Overseer.

Whispers erupted around Haruki, hissing like wind through leaves.

The figure strode out with a calm, unhurried grace. His robe was darker than the others, deep emerald lined with a silver so bright it might as well be a white torch. His hood cast his face in shadow until, with one fluid motion, he reached up and pulled it back.

Gasps echoed through the plaza.

A dragon.

Not a half-dragon. Not a dragonborn. A true dragon, standing in humanoid form, towering over the Elders beside him.

His skin shimmered with scales, all formed into a thick layer of red that resembled that of chainmail, catching the sunlight and converting it into a glow of fire. Two sweeping horns curved elegantly from his head, almost like that of a ram, curling down and almost into a spiral. And then there was his eyes – reptilian, golden, cold, ancient, and yet somehow bursting of a quiet ember, waiting to ignite.

Haruki then leaned closer to Kiera, whispering:

“There’s no way. Is that really a dragon?”

Kiera didn’t look away toward the Overseer who was approaching the front podium. Her voice murmured back:

“That’s Overseer Balthazar.”

The name lingered in Haruki’s ears, heavy as iron.

“There aren’t many dragons left,” she continued, her tone hushed, reverent. “Maybe a handful on this entire continent. Most of them keep to themselves. Some say they’re nearly extinct. But Balthazar is different. The strongest dragon of them all. They say that the older the dragon is, the more powerful they are. With Balthazar – we don’t even know how old he really is.”

Haruki swallowed hard, his palms sweating. He had seen these fantasy monsters of this world. And even experienced their cruelty. But this was different. There was no malice in Balthazar’s gaze, but there was no warmth either. Only an ancient smoldering wisdom that pressed down on him like a physical weight.

When Balthazar’s eyes passed over him, Haruki felt a shiver crawl up his spine. He couldn’t shake the feeling that those golden eyes had seen him, and in return, he had seen Balthazar, somehow. Emanating from those scales, those eyes, that tail as some kind of transcendent universal form of an idea that was so familiar to him, and it was on the tip of his tongue. He just couldn’t place it no matter how hard he tried.

Beside him, Kiera shifted uncomfortably, her arms folded tightly. She whispered:

“You know, he’s always given me the shivers. And I can’t understand why.”

And neither of them could look away.

The whispers around the courtyard were faint. Even among hundreds of aspiring students, and even the older experienced ones, Haruki could still hear the fear in their voices.

Finally stepping onto the podium, he existed far above everyone on this courtyard. Glancing down and about with an expression that was impossible to decipher. Not angry, nor happy. Only mystery.

Balthazar raised one of his claws, and the murmurs in the courtyard died instantly. His voice, when it came, was deep and steady.

“Children of Sunpeak. You gather here seeking strength, knowledge, and purpose. Some of you come with pride, others with fear, and many with hunger. We are all united against the shadows of the unknown, however. That, we may all rest within. May this place refine you as flame refines steel. May you rise not as mere Hunters, but as guardians of salt, purifying the soil.”

His voice was monotonous, but somehow by some strange power was still exerting gravity. Like there was an invisible string somewhere.

He closed his eyes briefly, his hands folding together in front of him.

“Let us pray.”

An ancient language rumbled from his lips, too low and deep for Haruki to make out. It wasn’t menacing; if anything, it felt warm, washing over the gathered students like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. For a moment, Haruki felt lighter, his nerves strangely soothed. When Balthazar opened his eyes again – he was as sturdy as stone.

At the end now, he called out to every student:

“Today is your first step. You will face the exam with courage, and you will not leave hungry. Come now. Receive your ration.”

With a flick of his hand, attendants emerged carrying trays of… bread?

At first glance, Haruki wasn’t even sure it was bread. From a distance, it seemed faint, like smooth crystal rippling in the air. At certain angles, the ‘bread’ even seemed invisible. But when a piece was placed in his hands, it had weight, texture, even a light scent. It was warm, firm, yet somehow lighter than air. Tiny motes of gold shimmered inside it, like starlight suspended in glass.

“What’s this supposed to be?” Haruki asked Kiera.

She, on the other hand, was cradling her own ration with surprising care.

“This is no normal bread. It’s Hunter’s bread. It’s strong. One loaf will keep you full for a week, even through battle.”

Haruki turned it over in his palms. The loaf shifted subtly, catching the light like crystal. It didn’t smell like bread either; its scent was clean, sharp, almost floral, like mountain air after a storm.

“Try keeping it in its pouch. It doesn’t taste very nice when cold.”