At the Royal Academy of Knights, Ronan was known as a failure.

Small, slow, and talentless.

The nobles wrote his name at the very bottom of the merit rankings, and no one expected anything from the son of a mere clerk.

Then one day, a broken sword floated into the air.

Pure mana gathered at his fingertips. The blade moved exactly as he willed it to.

One sword.

Two swords.

Then countless phantom swords filled the sky.

The same nobles who mocked him were forced into silence, their blades shattered apart. The people who once ignored him began calling his name again.

And for some reason, the girls around him started fighting over the seat beside him.