Fin woke to the distant humming of Haven’s cliffs, their song sharp and electric in the pre-dawn chill. The academy dormitory was quiet save for the occasional rustle of bedsheets and soft snores from neighboring rooms. Ren already gone. His bed made neatly. As consciousness fully returned, so did the dull pain in his shoulders, the scar on his neck throbbing from yesterday’s sparring session with Instructor Gavric. His legs felt stiff as wood, muscles protesting the previous day’s exertion.
Equilibrium pulsed within him, dulling the discomfort to a manageable background sensation.
He swung his legs over the edge of the narrow bed and reached for his clothes. The Haven Academy uniform hung from a peg on the wall. After dressing, Fin ran his fingers along the tantō sheathed at his hip, checking its position.
Fin grabbed his leather satchel from the floor, checking that his course scroll was still safely tucked inside. Day 2 at Haven Academy. The schedule was demanding: Dungeon Diving at dawn, Enchanting mid-morning, and Elemental Imprinting late afternoon.
Through the narrow window of his room, he could see the eastern spire of the academy looming against the lightening sky, its tall silhouette crowned with flickering lamps. Already, students were trickling across the grounds, some moving with purpose, others dragging their feet. Fin took a deep breath, centering himself, and stepped into the hallway.
Whispers followed him as he walked, "That's him," "the lightning," "against Gavric," but Equilibrium cooled the heat that might have risen to his face. He could hear them, but he wouldn't let them affect him. Still, his hand unconsciously rose to his neck, where scabs had formed from yesterday's fight. A trophy of sorts, he supposed. Evidence that he belonged here, despite what others might think.
The path to the eastern spire took him across dewy grass and along stone walkways worn smooth by generations of students. The academy stretched wide around him, its architecture a blend of ancient stonework and more modern additions. Some buildings seemed to grow from the very cliffs themselves, while others stood in purposeful, geometric contrast against the natural landscape.
A sign marked "Dungeon Diving, Room 7" led him down a damp corridor that smelled of earth and iron. The air grew cooler as he descended, the walls rougher, less finished than those above ground. The unmistakable tang of concentrated mana grew stronger with each step, not the wild, electric current of the cliffs, but something more contained, deliberate.
The classroom sprawled open before him, a cavernous space with jagged stone walls and a shadowed ceiling so high it was difficult to see. Mana crystals pulsed with steady blue light along rough-hewn benches arranged in a semicircle. Nearly twenty students already sat, some scribbling notes, others fidgeting nervously. At the center of the room stood a massive slab of stone, its surface etched with intricate runes that occasionally sparked with energy. Against it leaned an enormous greataxe, its blade gleaming even in the dim light.
Professor Knox Kael paced before the slab, his broad shoulders and imposing height making him seem as much a part of the stone around them as a man of flesh and blood. Gray hair was pulled back in a tight knot at the nape of his neck, revealing a face weathered by experience. His mana signature, heavy and dense like packed soil, marked him as a Tier Three practitioner.
Fin slipped onto an empty bench, feeling the cool stone beneath him. The professor's eyes, sharp despite their sunken appearance, swept across the room, pausing briefly on Fin before moving on.
"Up late gossiping about yesterday's events?" Knox growled, his voice echoing against the stone walls. Several students shifted uncomfortably. "Then perhaps you missed the point of Dungeon Diving. This class isn't about glory or showing off, it's about survival. Listen or die. Simple as that."
He clapped his hands together, the sound bouncing off the walls with unnatural resonance. Students who had been slouching straightened immediately.
"Dungeons," Knox continued, beginning to pace again, "are scars in reality. Pocket dimensions that exist both within and outside our world. They can be as small as a closet or as vast as an entire realm unto themselves. The permanent ones take root in our reality; the temporary ones blink out after they've served their purpose. The System runs them, cold, precise, unforgiving."
Knox tapped the stone slab with one scarred knuckle, and the runes flared to life, projecting a shimmering tear in the air above it.
"These are entrances," he explained, gesturing to the hovering scar. "Touch one, and the System pings you: 'Enter?' Say yes, and it spits out a Clear Goal. Dungeons are tiered, One being the lowest, like us here at Haven." He jabbed a finger toward a wiry girl sitting in the front row. "Your Tier?"
"One," she said, shifting under his gaze.
"Then a Tier One dungeon would be appropriate for you," Knox nodded. "You can enter a higher Tier dungeon if you wish. I strongly advise that you don't. And those of higher Tiers cannot enter dungeons below their rank. The System prevents it." A boy near the back smirked, raising his hand. "What's inside these dungeons, Professor?"
Knox leaned back against the slab, arms crossed over his chest. "Types vary. Puzzle dungeons, solve them or die trying. Labyrinths, navigate or get lost until your bones bleach. Wave dungeons, fight swarms of increasing difficulty. Survival dungeons, endure the environment long enough to escape. Arena dungeons, duel a boss or series of champions." He waved his hand through the projection, and the scar morphed from a maze-like structure to an open arena. "Your Clear Goal is your map, solve the puzzle, escape the maze, kill the target. Complete the objective, and you can leave."
He traced a finger along the edge of the projection. "Permanent dungeons reset, Tier One, every few hours; Tier Five, possibly months between resets. You want to catch them when they're active.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
A lanky boy with spectacles spoke up from the middle row. "And the rewards, Professor?"
"The System pays for completion," Knox said with a slight curl of his lip. "Clear the dungeon, win the prize. No random drops, no scavenging, the goal is all that matters. Weapons, mana gems, skill enhancements, all tied to slots and upgrades within your personal registry with the System."
The professor hefted his greataxe, its surface catching the blue light of the mana crystals. "But there's risk beyond just your life. Permanent dungeons can Break if ignored too long. Reality cracks, monsters flood into our world. A Tier Three Break? Fifteen-mile alert minimum. Pure chaos."
Fin remembered joining his brother’s team to take out the ant dungeon that broke.
The wiry girl from before frowned, her hand half-raised. "How does it all start?"
"A scar shows in reality," Knox said, gesturing to the projection. "You touch it, you decide. In a few days, we'll be running a Tier One Wave dungeon as an introduction. Your job is simple, survive, don't die." He grinned, scarred hands flexing around the haft of his axe. "Any questions?" When silence met him, he barked, "Out!"
Students scrambled to their feet, gathering notebooks and bags. Fin rose more slowly, mind already ticking through what he'd learned. The System created traps and used rewards as bait. Classic conditioning.
The corridor felt less claustrophobic on the return journey. He made his way back to the surface, blinking as the mid-morning sun bathed the academy grounds in golden light.

The southern spire that housed the Enchanting classroom stood in stark contrast to the rough-hewn chamber of Dungeon Diving. Where Knox's domain had been primal and raw, this room gleamed with polished stone floors and walls lined with shelves of crystals and shards that caught the light streaming through tall windows. A forge sat dim in the corner, its embers banked but ready.
Fifteen students had already taken their places at individual worktables, empty save for a neat stack of parchment at each station. Instructor Briel Vurg stood at the center of the room, her petite frame belying the power that radiated from her. A braid hung down her back, swaying slightly as she turned to observe the entering students. Her mana signature felt like a honed edge, precise, dangerous, refined. Tier Four, Fin assessed, even more powerful than Knox, though she wore her power differently, like a well-fitted glove rather than a battle hammer.
A thin wand rested in her hand, its tip glowing faintly with stored energy. As Fin took his place at an empty worktable, he noted how still the room had become, each student watching Briel with careful attention.
"Enchanting," she said, her voice crisp and clear, carrying easily without needing to be raised. "The art of binding mana into matter. Today we begin with step one, the basics." She tapped the wand against her palm, and a spark flared briefly before fading away. "Runes are how we channel our intent, and they come in two categories: Core and Structural. Core runes represent elemental energies, Ignis for fire, Aqua for water, Terra for earth, Ventus for air, Lux for light, Umbra for shadow, Vita for life, Mortem for death, and Arkan for force. Structural runes shape these energies, Sigil to bind, Foci to direct, Amplis to boost. We'll discuss more complex structures later."
She lifted her wand and traced it through the air, leaving a glowing red symbol that Fin recognized as Ignis before it dissipated into nothing. The precision of her movement was hypnotic, each line drawn with absolute certainty.
"Today's exercise is simple, feel the energy. Ignis represents heat and combustion. When etched properly, it sparks flame. Your task is to use your wand to channel enough mana to ignite the parchment before you." She moved to a nearby shelf, retrieving a bundle of slim, metal wands that seemed to shimmer with contained energy. She tossed one to each student with surprising accuracy, each landing perfectly within reach.
Fin caught his, feeling the weight of it, the subtle warmth of stored mana. It was clearly a training tool, not nearly as refined as Briel's own wand, but functional nonetheless. The parchment on his table held its own kind of potential, raw material, waiting to be transformed.
"Hold the wand properly," Briel instructed, beginning to pace between the tables. "Channel your mana, small, steady amounts, and trace the Ignis rune. Your goal is to light the paper with enough control that it burns slowly rather than erupting into flames. Too much power, and you'll be left with nothing but ash; too little, and nothing happens at all."
A stocky boy at the table next to Fin's frowned, raising his hand. "Aren't we going to practice etching the runes first?"
"Not on Day One," she snapped, her eyes narrowing. "Learn control of your power, then you earn the right to permanently carve runes into materials. Now, try."
She leaned against the forge, arms crossed, watching as students picked up their wands with varying degrees of confidence. Fin gripped his wand carefully, allowing Equilibrium to settle his mind and calm the flow of his mana. He pictured the Ignis rune as Briel had drawn it, sharp, angular lines that somehow captured the essence of heat and transformation.
Mana trickled from his core, down his arm, into the wand, a faint buzz of energy that made his fingertips tingle. The tip of the wand began to glow a dull red, responding to his intent. Slowly, carefully, he pressed the tip to the parchment and began to trace, following the mental image of Ignis.
A spark flared where the wand touched paper, a thin trail of smoke curling upward. The parchment singed, blackened, and then a small flame appeared, steady and controlled. Fin pulled the wand back, satisfied, and the flame died away, leaving only a charred edge on the parchment.
Briel passed by his table, glancing down at his work. A small smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Controlled, good. Most students overdo it their first time." She gestured around the room, where at least half the class was cursing quietly over papers that had either burned to ash or failed to light at all. Nearby, a girl with braided hair had created a flame that flared too high, Briel doused it with a casual flick of her wand.
"This is why we start with basics," the instructor continued, addressing the entire class now. "Mana is a tool, not a toy. It responds to precision and intent far more readily than brute force. Practice until the next class meeting. I expect everyone to demonstrate basic control by then."
The remainder of the class passed with students attempting to master the simple exercise. Some improved gradually; others grew more frustrated. Fin practiced methodically, testing different levels of mana flow, observing how the parchment responded. By the time class ended, he had developed a consistent technique that produced a small, manageable flame each time.
Briel dismissed them with a wave, allowing students to keep their practice wands. "Remember," she called as they filed out, "control first, complexity later."
Fin tucked his wand into his satchel, mind turning over what he'd learned. Ignis, simple in form, but scalable in application. Combined with the right structural runes, what might be possible? The scientific part of his mind was already cataloging variables, considering experiments.
As he stepped into the corridor, the smell of singed paper lingering in his nostrils, Fin felt a tension in his shoulders that had nothing to do with yesterday's sparring wounds. Two classes down, one to go. Elemental Imprinting awaited in the afternoon, and he’d finally start his journey to Tier 2.