Rival Heirs and a Clumsy First Encounter
Anyone could tell this was an ability user story, but Lumine’s reaction—“The Empire’s third prince is enrolling? Oh my gosh!”—made it clear this was news to her.
Abel nodded at his sister’s question and spilled the details he’d heard at the palace.
“It’s not just the prince, sis. You know who Akin Phoenix is, right?”
“The top pyrokinesis user on the continent, yeah.”
“His son’s a freshman just like me.”
“Oh my.”
“And that’s not all. Jecob Sparrow’s son is coming too.”
Lumine Rothschild, the eldest daughter of the Rothschild family, suddenly let out a sigh as she listened to her brother. “Hold on, Abel. You mean the heirs to the continent’s top pyrokinesis and hydrokinesis users are both enrolling at the Continental Academy at the same time?”
“That’s right.”
“Just like the fire and water ability users at the top of the continent can never get along, those two won’t either?”
“Probably n—”
He’d been too tense in front of the king to think that far ahead. A creeping headache spread through Abel’s skull, and he clutched his forehead.
It was always like this in ability user stories. Rival attributes were at each other’s throats, desperate to devour one another. They’d fight during breaks, at meals, even greet each other with punches. And these two? They were sons of the men called the continent’s best in their fields. The mix of awe for a field’s top dog and the pressure of it being your dad didn’t need explaining.
If that’s all it was, I’d count my blessings. The real problem comes next.
Those from great backgrounds were usually brimming with confidence. But what if one—or both—of them harbored an inferiority complex? What if their soul rival, with an opposing attribute, showed talent and growth that surpassed them?
“Talk about a perfect villain setup…”
“Huh? What’d you say, Abel?”
“Nothing, sis.”
If only he knew the exact plot of this ability user tale. Or even who the protagonist was. But he knew nothing—just the genre of this world.
Remembering that filled Abel with immense relief at having undergone his Ability Awakening. In ability user stories, lives vanished in a blink if you weren’t careful. Especially non-ability users, tossed into every danger: collateral from ability user brawls, or radicals screaming they were obsolete and needed extermination. Disaster lurked in every form.
That’s why he’d pushed so hard. In this brutal world, this ability user storm that could sweep away countless lives, he’d gain the power to protect his family—at least.
He’d succeeded first in awakening. Next: head to the academy, hone this power, prepare for the worst.
“Well, sis, time for me to head out soon.”
“Already? Vacation doesn’t end for a week.”
“Club activities. You’ll get it once you enroll, Abel. They’re more useful than you’d think. The connections last way beyond graduation.”
Oh ho, advice from a veteran! Two years ahead as an academy senior—pure gold. Abel mentally noted it: Academy clubs essential. Seems like a spot for combat experience, split-second insights, networking.
“Gonna be a lot on your plate, little bro.”
“Sis?”
“Empire prince. Sons of the top elemental authorities. And unmentioned geniuses too, probably. Meanwhile, our Ascal Kingdom’s freshman rep is you, Abel.”
“Freshman rep? Me? Since when?”
Abel blinked in shock, but Lumine laughed like it was obvious. Meeting the king was proof enough, she added.
Even after she left with a “see you at the academy,” Abel sat dazed in the training ground corner.
Kingdom representative, just like that. Mind-blowing. Freshman level only, sure, but still representing a nation. No small deal.
I’d only thought about our family… This is nerve-wracking.
He stood, drew the sword at his waist. A burden he’d never expected swelled within. His breath shook; the blade tip wavered off-target.
Focus.
Inhale. Exhale. Clear the mind—only the path ahead remained. Forget the rep duty. Just this sword in his hand, its potential—that alone.
The evaluators mentioned swordsmanship and Physical Enhancement. Obviously, he hadn’t shown everything.
Ability user rule one: Never reveal your trump card.
Blood surged through his veins. Heat built in his body, but his sword grip chilled sharper.
Who am I? What do I want? What’s my best path there?
Empire prince or daddy’s boys—protagonists or not—this life’s hero was him. His world was where his loved ones were. He’d awakened for that, and he’d march on.
“…!”
Aim at the sky, the moon—slash with all his might.
No flashy forms yet. He was an ability user with a sword, not a true swordsman. But his will to cut through matched anyone’s.
This was his life’s path—he’d walk it, cleaving obstacles.
Swoosh—whoosh.
A pleasant breeze followed. He slowly sheathed the blade.
Wait for me, Continental Academy. And all you ability users. I’m coming. To write my story.
Anticipating the enrollment ceremony, Abel headed for his last family meal. The moon he’d slashed at still gleamed softly. Nothing had changed from before the swing to after.
Maybe even the moon hadn’t noticed. The clouds gathering around it had neatly split in two, drifting across the night sky.
Three days later.
“We’ll be off, Young Master Abel.”
“Thanks for everything.”
The royal coachman bowed politely at Abel’s greeting, waving off concerns.
Heading to the Continental Academy wasn’t personal—it was for the nation. Pride and power on the line. Royals supported all enrollees regardless of status: luxurious coaches like this included.
“The other freshmen left already?”
“Yes. You’re the last… well, not quite. Near the end, anyway.”
“Got it. Let’s go.”
The king’s special request: that girl, Seria Frijian. Not the nicest ask, but here they were, picking her up.
“The baron must be thrilled. Ability Awakening’s so rare, and two of his three kids succeeded.”
“Even on his son’s departure day, he’s grinning ear to ear. Gotta live up to it—for him, and for our Ascal Kingdom.”
“Word is, the palace has high hopes for your family.”
Chatting with the coachman, they reached the rendezvous. She lived far, arriving by kingdom-sponsored teleport magic, but no sign yet.
If only we could teleport straight to the academy…
Just a light gripe. The academy was in the Empire—a special district no one entered freely, even imperials.
“Young Master Abel, almost there.”
Sure enough, the teleport circle glowed. Seemed disorienting for first-timers, but simple: stand and wait, whisked to coordinates.
Thud-crash!
“Kyaa!”
The girl who appeared had clearly never done this. She’d fallen flat on her butt like she’d dropped from the sky, flailing in confusion.
Spotting Abel’s half-pitying gaze, she yelped “Ah!” and scrambled up—only to trip again. Let that slide.
“Wh-who are you?!”
“Nice to meet you, Miss Seria. I’m Abel Rothschild, your travel companion to the Continental Academy.”
“Rothschild… Ahh! You don’t mean the Rothschild family?!”
“Probably.”
“It’s an honor! I’m Seria Frijian!!”
What a reactor. Abel’s first impression of Seria: one heck of a lively girl.
“Greetings later—let’s talk en route. Others already left.”
“Ah? Did I make you late?!”
“Nah, just today’s schedule.”
“Phew! What a relief!”
She clapped in relief, then chattered nonstop—what a mood-lifter. Something indescribable drew people in.
“I haven’t slept since yesterday. So nervous, so excited. Secret: first time leaving my barony!”
“I see.”
“Thought I’d never leave—maybe tour the kingdom at best. But Ability Awakening and the academy? It’s like a fairy tale!”
“Fairy tale, huh.”
“Yeah! A country bumpkin gets lucky, grabs a chance, travels the continent—that kind!”
Once the carriage rolled, Seria didn’t stop. Too much talk usually annoyed, but hers? Endlessly pleasant.
Maybe a mood-booster role? Not bad, anyway.
Candy character. Reaction goldmine. The sidekick you’d miss in an ability user tale.
Abel nodded along. At least the trip wouldn’t be boring.