Forged By Falcrest

Atlas woke to the soft sound of knocking on the door. Groggy, he burrowed deeper under the thick blankets, savoring the warmth. This was the first proper sleep he'd had since the incident, and he wasn't ready to give it up.

But the knocking didn't stop. Whoever was outside clearly wasn't going away. With a groan, Atlas swung his legs over the edge of the bed and shuffled toward the door, one heavy step at a time. He pulled it open, blinking against the early morning light.

Standing there was the blonde-haired woman from the previous day. He squinted, trying to recall her name, but it escaped him. Her expression was calm, though there was a faint tinge of red on her cheeks.

Atlas frowned and glanced past her. The sun was barely cresting over the mountains, its golden light just beginning to stretch across the snow-covered fields.

It's way too early for this.

When he turned back to her, he noticed her gaze wasn't quite meeting his. Her eyes flitted down briefly, then back up to his face. That's when he realized, she was blushing.

Confused, he followed her line of sight and looked down at himself. His stomach dropped. He was shirtless, his chest bare and his auburn hair falling messily over his eyes. The only thing he had on was his pair of trousers and bandages covering his wounds.

His face heated instantly, and he quickly slammed the door shut, leaning his forehead against it.

'Man, I'm stupid,' he thought, running a hand through his hair in embarrassment.

"Give me a minute!" he called out, his voice a little higher than usual.

From the other side of the door, he heard her quiet response. "Oh… okay."

Atlas sighed and turned to his small chest. He threw it open and grabbed the academy uniform the office lady had given him the previous day. He pulled it out hurriedly, shaking off the folds as he tried to calm his racing heart.

Atlas opened the door once more, now properly dressed. The uniform fit snugly, made of dark, sturdy fabric with a tailored jacket that bore the academy's crest stitched in silver on the chest. A crisp white shirt peeked out from beneath, paired with black trousers and polished boots. It was simple but elegant, easily the best clothing he had ever worn.

"Sorry about that," he muttered, ruffling his hair awkwardly. "I'm not much of a morning person."

She smiled, seeming much more at ease now. "It's fine. Anyway, I'm here to show you around for your first day and help get you settled in. The new year started just last week, so you'll miss the basic introduction, but we'll catch you up."

Her voice was soft, melodic, but Atlas barely registered her words. He was too busy staring. Something about the way her blonde hair framed her face, or how her smile lit up her features, made it hard to focus. He mentally kicked himself.

"Uh, right," he said, quickly glancing away. "Lead the way."

"Don't worry too much," the girl said as they walked down the housing paths leading back toward the towering main facility.

"The year only started. All the other first years, including me, have just been settling in."

That eased Atlas's nerves slightly. He wasn't usually one to get nervous, but this was different. This was something he had dreamed about for as long as he could remember.

"Really? What's it been like so far?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"It's intense," she replied with a sigh. "We're forced to train constantly, even if we don't want to become Nightblades. Apparently, everyone still needs to learn the basics of combat."

To Atlas, that sounded incredible. Even though the fight that brought him here still haunted him, there was a part of him that couldn't deny how drawn he was to the idea of strength, of power.

She must have noticed something in his expression, because she smirked. "Ah, you're one of those."

Atlas frowned, her words catching him off guard. "'One of those?'" he repeated, scoffing slightly. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know," she said, her smirk widening. "A boy from a lower family with big dreams of rising to the top."

She wasn't wrong, though she had no idea how close she'd hit the mark. Minus the "family" part, of course. Having her peg him so accurately left him uneasy.

"Maybe," he admitted, raising an eyebrow. "But so what? What's wrong with wanting freedom and power?"

Her expression softened, and her gaze drifted to his neck. "What happened there?" she asked, pointing to just below his jawline.

Atlas raised his hand instinctively, running his fingers over the rough skin of his neck. The texture was dry, almost leathery, and a faint twinge of pain shot through him when he pressed too hard. He let his hand drop, brushing off the discomfort.

"I don't know," he said flatly. "I haven't seen it yet. Probably a burn mark. Why?"

"I see," she murmured, her tone quieter now. "Sorry to pry."

"It's fine," he said, waving it off. "And for the record, there's nothing wrong with wanting freedom and power."

She smiled at that, a soft, knowing smile. "No, there isn't," she agreed.

The two fell into a comfortable silence as they continued walking, the sound of their steps echoing lightly off the stone pathways. Soon, they entered the academy's large corridors, their footsteps muffled by the sheer size of the place.

"Where are we going?" Atlas asked after a while.

The blonde girl stopped, glancing back at him. "Sorry, I should have told you the plan," she said. "At first light, everyone meets for breakfast. After that, we go to our classes until midday. Then we train until sundown."

Atlas felt his stomach twist at the mention of food. "Is it free?" he blurted out before he could stop himself.

She frowned, looking confused. "Is what free?"

"The food," he clarified, his voice quieter this time.

Her expression shifted to one of shock. "Of course it's free!" she said, almost offended at the question.

Atlas couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. This might be better than he'd ever imagined.

***

The room was massive, far bigger than any Atlas had ever stood in. Towering stone walls stretched on either side, rising high up to the ceiling.

He looked around for a few seconds, taking it all in, before the blonde girl spoke up. "Come on, let's get some food and then find the others."

Atlas nodded and followed her forward. They joined the line, and the girl handed him a tray.

All around the hall, kids were laughing, shouting, and talking loudly over their meals. The noise was almost overwhelming, but it reminded him of the orphanage back in Midtown. Except this place was brighter, louder, and filled with an energy he wasn't used to.

Soon, they had their trays full of porridge, and Atlas followed the girl as she wove her way through the crowded tables. He spotted a few familiar faces and immediately recognized them—it was the two boys he'd met yesterday.

"Atlas! Nice of you to join us," Seth greeted with a bright smile as they approached.

Beside him was Aaron, who glanced up, his gaze shifting between Atlas and the blonde girl. His scowl deepened.

'Oh great,' Atlas thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. 'Honestly, what the hell is his problem?'

"Morning," Atlas said, keeping his tone neutral.

Aaron's eyes flicked toward the girl. "Why are you with him, Rea?"

'That's right… Rea is her name. Thanks for reminding me, buddy.'

Rea didn't seem bothered by Aaron's sharp tone. She casually dropped her tray onto the table, the sound drawing attention, before sitting down. She gestured for Atlas to do the same.

"It's got nothing to do with you," she said firmly, "but if you must know, Atlas and I will be spending a lot of time together."

She didn't elaborate further, but her words hit their mark. Aaron's fists clenched, and his face turned a noticeable shade of red.

Atlas wasn't used to girls and hadn't really spoken to any his age before. But he wasn't stupid either—growing up on the streets didn't leave room for stupidity. He quickly noticed how Rea's comment affected Aaron.

What have you done, woman?

Aaron's hands were balled into fists, and his stare was sharp enough to cut through steel. Meanwhile, Rea looked smug, clearly enjoying herself.

Before things could spiral out of control, Atlas decided to intervene. Thinking quickly, he said, "She's showing me around. That's all."

Aaron scoffed, clearly unimpressed. "I didn't ask you, Remalion."

What the hell is he talking about?

The tension inside him began to build. He was getting fed up with this boy's attitude. Normally, he tried to avoid conflict, but something about Aaron's tone made it hard to keep his temper in check.

"Okay, what's your problem?" Atlas said, his voice sharper than he intended. "Your stupid face hasn't stopped glaring at me since you saw me. Do we know each other?"

Aaron stood abruptly, the screech of his chair scraping against the stone floor drawing attention. His imposing posture loomed over the table, casting a shadow over Atlas.

"Don't talk to me like that," Aaron snarled. "You and your kind aren't welcome here. Piss off before I make you."

'My kind?' Atlas thought, his annoyance flaring into anger. 'So he's just another scummy Uppertown boy who looks down on everyone.'

"What's my kind, you ugly bastard?" Atlas shot back, his voice laced with venom. He could feel his core beginning to hum with power. His body grew warm as his mana responded to the anger boiling inside him.

Aaron's scowl deepened, his tone dripping with disdain as he sneered, "Remalion scum."

With that, he grabbed his tray and hurled it at Atlas. The action caught Atlas off guard. He raised his arms to block the tray from hitting his face, but the porridge splattered everywhere, soaking into his new uniform and dripping onto the floor.

He heard Rea shout for Aaron to stop, but her voice was drowned out by the blood pounding in his ears. His anger reached a tipping point.

"You piece of shit," Atlas growled, lunging across the table before he could stop himself.

The students around them scrambled back, gasps and shouts echoing through the hall. The noise quickly turned into a chant: "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

Atlas crashed into Aaron, sending both of them tumbling to the floor. He landed on top, his mana flaring instinctively as he drew strength from his core. His first punch connected with Aaron's jaw, the impact sending a jolt up his arm.

Aaron didn't crumble like Atlas had hoped. Instead, he gritted his teeth and retaliated with surprising force, shoving Atlas off him and rolling to his feet.

Atlas stumbled backward, caught off guard by the boy's strength. The chanting crowd only grew louder, their voices fueling the chaotic energy of the room.

Atlas wiped a streak of porridge off his face, his chest heaving as his anger burned brighter. His core hummed like a drumbeat in his veins, urging him forward.

Aaron smirked, his confidence unshaken. "You're gonna regret that, Remalion."

Atlas clenched his fists, his muscles tense and ready. "Bring it," he muttered under his breath, his voice low enough that only Aaron could hear.