The Broken Star!

The towering academy gates loomed ahead, an imposing structure of dark iron and intricate engravings that stretched high into the sky. The thick metal doors bore the insignia of the Principality—an emblem of a soaring eagle clutching a blade in its talons, symbolizing strength and authority. The walls flanking the entrance were built from stone and reinforced with layers of steel, a testament to the academy's age and prestige.

Ren stood at the base of the entrance, his eyes scanning the fine details of the carvings. His black hair was slightly tousled by the gentle breeze, and his dark blue eyes, usually filled with quiet resolve, held a hint of unease. The uniform he had been provided—a standard gray military jacket and fitted trousers—felt foreign against his skin. Despite the proper fit, he couldn't shake the feeling that it didn't quite belong to him.

Beside him, Wolfe adjusted his own uniform, the officer's crisp black attire making him stand out amidst the sea of students in dark gray. His golden epaulets shimmered under the late morning sun, and his sharp features carried an air of authority that was hard to ignore. The subtle creases on his brow suggested he had seen far too much in his years of service.

A figure in full black armor stepped forward from the gatehouse. The man's imposing frame was accentuated by the polished plates covering his body, a dark crimson cape flowing behind him. His helmet, adorned with a silver crest, hid his features, leaving only a pair of piercing eyes visible through the narrow visor slit.

"Halt," the armored man commanded, his voice carrying a weight of authority.

Ren tensed, feeling the heavy scrutiny of the gatekeeper's gaze upon him.

"We're here to register the kid," Wolfe said, his voice steady but casual. He reached into his coat and produced a small identification card, handing it over. The card displayed Ren's name, face, and details in neat script, the picture staring back at him with an unfamiliar sense of finality.

'When did they even take that?' Ren wondered, a slight furrow appearing on his brow.

The armored man studied the card for a moment, then shifted his gaze back to Wolfe. He hesitated before standing straighter, snapping into a salute. "Forgive me, Sir Wolfe," he said, voice laced with newfound respect. "I failed to recognize you."

Wolfe waved him off with a dismissive hand. "Relax, old man. I'm just out for a stroll today. No need for formalities."

The armored man nodded and stepped aside, allowing them entry. As the heavy gates creaked open, the mechanical groan of metal grinding against stone filled the air, followed by the rhythmic echo of their footsteps crossing the threshold.

Inside, the academy grounds sprawled out before them in a grand display of architecture and discipline. Rows of neatly lined buildings stood against the horizon, each structure designed with a blend of classical elegance and modern practicality. Large stone pathways stretched across the grounds, weaving between open courtyards and training fields bustling with activity. Students in black uniforms moved in synchronized patterns, their disciplined strides a stark contrast to Ren's uncertain steps.

He could hear the whispers even before he noticed the stares.

"Is that… a demon?" one student muttered, voice hushed but sharp.

"Why would they let one of them in?" another sneered.

Ren's tail twitched, his grip on the strap of his satchel tightening involuntarily. The same murmurs, the same disgusted glances—nothing had changed. He exhaled sharply, keeping his eyes forward.

"Damned demon," "filth," "monster." The words echoed in his mind, old wounds reopening with each passing comment.

His mother's face flashed before his eyes—kind, gentle, and worn from years of bearing the weight of prejudice. He recalled the time when a shopkeeper had refused to sell them food, the disdain in his voice cutting deeper than any blade.

"She's human, damn it," Ren thought bitterly. "But they never cared. Because of me, she was forced to endure it all."

He glanced down at his tail, its smooth surface reflecting the sunlight filtering through the academy grounds. It was neither too long nor too short, a sleek, flexible reminder of the heritage his mother never spoke of.

His father… Ren barely remembered him. A fleeting image of a man standing tall, his words lingering like an old echo—"Even something small can make a difference." That was all he had left of him, a fragmented memory that he clung to like a lifeline.

Ren's expression hardened. "If you really believed that, then where the hell are you now?" he thought, his fists clenching at his sides. "I'll find you, and when I do, you better have a damn good reason for leaving us."

"Stop spacing out, kid," Wolfe's voice cut through his thoughts.

Ren blinked and looked up. They stood before a towering steel door, far larger than any other on the academy grounds. Wolfe pressed his hand against a scanner embedded in the wall, and with a soft hum, the metallic surface dissolved away in intricate, shifting patterns, revealing a well-lit chamber beyond.

Inside, a man with broad shoulders and a commanding presence waited. His dark brown hair was tied back, his chiseled face marked by years of experience. Dressed in a deep navy uniform adorned with silver insignias, he looked every bit the seasoned instructor.

"Is this the new recruit?" the man asked, his voice low and steady.

Wolfe nodded. "Yeah. Name's Ren. He's fresh, but he's got guts."

The instructor studied Ren with a critical eye before stepping closer. "I heard you managed to take down a rebel all by yourself." His gaze was calculating. "Luck, or skill?"

Ren hesitated for a brief moment. "…Just luck," he finally said, lowering his gaze.

The man chuckled. "Modest, huh? Even if it was luck, most would've frozen in that situation." He stepped forward, extending a calloused hand. "Name's Vance. I'm your combat instructor."

Ren shook his hand, but the moment their palms met, a strange sensation coursed through his arm—a subtle, tingling warmth that made his muscles tense.

Vance's brows furrowed slightly. He turned to Wolfe. "You sure this is the right kid?"

"What do you mean?" Wolfe asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

Vance released Ren's hand, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "He's got no mana flow. Not a single trace."

Ren stiffened. "What?" he muttered under his breath.

Vance crossed his arms, his piercing gaze never leaving Ren. "I thought demons were supposed to be overflowing with mana," he added, eyes narrowing. "What's the deal?"

Ren shifted uncomfortably under their scrutiny, feeling an unfamiliar pressure weighing down on him. He swallowed hard, searching for an explanation that wouldn't raise suspicions. Before he could respond, the man in front of him stepped closer, a sinister smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Let's find out," Vance said, his voice dripping with malice.

Without warning, Vance pressed his palm against Ren's chest, and a sudden surge of mana coursed through him. Ren's eyes widened in shock as the raw energy seeped into his veins, igniting every nerve in his body with searing pain. His muscles tensed, his knees buckling slightly under the sheer intensity of the foreign force invading his core.

He clenched his teeth, a strangled groan escaping his lips as his vision blurred. The pain was unlike anything he'd ever experienced, a burning sensation that felt as though it was tearing him apart from the inside. Just as he thought he couldn't endure it any longer, the tingling in his arm reached its peak.

Suddenly, a blue screen flickered into existence before his eyes.

[Status: Activated]

Name: Ren

Lifespan: 17 yrs (87+)

Race: ???

Class: None

Mana Circle: 0 Star (0.10%)

Strength: 6 | Defense: 5

Stamina: 4 | Agility: 4

Constitution: 6 | Mana: 0.5

Techniques: None

Skills: None

Ren's breath hitched, and his heart pounded in his chest. His vision swam slightly as he stared at the unfamiliar interface, the numbers and words staring back at him in silent mockery. He blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what he saw, but the pain continued to throb through his body, making it hard to focus.

"What... is this?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.