Chapter 16: The Cairo
*Cairo, home to the Luciel Academy of Light and the Holy Cathedral*
The flying car, a sleek black model, landed smoothly in the central square, its mana-powered engines humming beneath my feet. I pushed open the door and stepped out, my boots clicking against the polished cobblestones. The landscape stretched before me, and I paused, mouth agape. "It’s way more impressive than it looked on screen," I said, unable to tear my eyes away.
*Cairo, an artificial city at the crossroads of continents.*
Towers of glass and steel soared into the sky, their facades etched with runes. Suspended bridges, supported by mana-infused cables, connected the districts, where flying carriages and propulsion-driven cars crisscrossed the air. In the distance, the Luciel Academy of Light dominated the skyline—a complex of golden domes and white towers, surrounded by gardens with shimmering fountains. Farther still, the Holy Cathedral rose like a monolith, its golden stained-glass windows visible for miles. Statues of saintly virtues lined its forecourt, their lances pointing skyward.
I wore the academy uniform: a black jacket trimmed with gold, a white shirt, a red tie, and tailored trousers. On my jacket pocket, two embroidered stars marked me as a second-year student. Students spent three years here, after which they could become adventurers, royal knights, serve one of the four grand dukes, or, for the most talented, teach magic—like Luxia von Arcadia, a legend of the academy.
The Academy was divided into sections. Mages manipulated mana; aura users and martial artists trained alongside druids, blacksmiths, and aspiring paladins who studied theology and combat, swearing loyalty to the Cathedral. Scrutators, archaeologists of this world, analyzed ancient artifacts in libraries, deciphering runes. All gained advanced knowledge in history, alchemy, and strategy.
I decided to enter the academy. The main courtyard, lined with statues of heroes, bustled with an estimated thousand students. First-years, recognizable by their lack of uniforms, huddled in nervous groups. Second and third-years, more confident, headed to their dormitories or classrooms.
I walked through the inner courtyard, a grand space paved with white marble, surrounded by colonnades and fountains. Floating panels indicated directions, but none mentioned the auditorium, where the welcome ceremony would take place. I wandered, hoping to spot a professor for guidance.
As I crossed an art-lined corridor, I noticed a commotion. An Alfuman, of the Neko race, was cornered against a wall by three human students.