The Boy Who Walks Beyond The End-Chapter 99: Vaelstrom Academy

The air shimmered with arcane hums as the portal flared open — a spinning gate of sigils and light, powered by the Academy's High Transportation Circle. The seven chosen representatives stood in a half-circle, bags slung over their shoulders, some serious, some squirming with anticipation.

System Nex popped into Zen's peripheral vision, floating in a lazy circle.

[System Nex: Welcome to your all-expenses-paid field trip to Vaelstrom! No refunds, but free trauma included.]

"Charming," Zen muttered.

A gust of energy swept them forward—and in a blink, the portal sucked them into motionless speed.

They arrived with a flash.

Before them, the City of Vaelstrom unfolded in grand tiers of architecture unlike Grandovale's stone spires. Here, magic didn't just fuel the city — it sang.

Vaelstrom's capital, Tal'Veyron, was a lattice of floating bridges, canals of glowing water, and towers shaped like wind-carved glass. Arcane lanterns hovered on invisible tethers, and the sky shimmered with soft colors of dusk despite it being early morning. The city seemed alive with magic — not just functional, but beautiful, poetic even.

Kleez stared, wide-eyed. "Does their sewer system float too? 'Cause I'm not fighting goblins if they get ideas."

Elvren shook his head, amused. "It's not floating sewage, Kleez. It's levitated purity runes. Vaelstrom's magic is extremely advanced."

They were greeted by an escort — a tall instructor in storm-colored robes, with silver trim and a staff crackling lightly at its head. He bowed slightly.

"Welcome, representatives of Eboncrest. I am Professor Caldras, liaison and coordinator for your time here in Vaelstrom. Follow me — the Academy awaits."

As they moved through the city, they passed street performers shaping wind into instruments, teleporting food stalls, and students practicing blade arts mid-air on suspended stone rings.

System Nex reappeared beside Zen's shoulder, whispering only to him.

[System Nex: Bet they don't have explosive chickens. Just sayin'.]

Zen ignored the smirk twitching on his lips.

• VAELSTROM ACADEMY.

The gates were a monolith of polished stone carved with symbols ancient and alive — each glowed faintly in their presence. Two towers spiraled on either side, and floating platforms drifted above the central courtyard. The building itself looked part palace, part laboratory, part battlefield.

Inside, the architecture curved like flowing wind — no harsh corners. Glass walls shifted their tint with emotion-based wards, and the air hummed with pressure like it expected greatness.

"Whoa," Sylvia murmured, even she caught in the grandeur. "This place is... alive."

Professor Caldras stopped and turned. "You'll have the next twelve days to train, spar, and adapt. You represent Eboncrest. But you're also here to learn. The Trials begin soon."

Arisha, eyes sharp, added, "I heard Vaelstrom tests not just power—but resonance. Magic and soul."

"Indeed," Caldras said. "Here, how deeply you connect with your spirit matters more than brute strength."

[System Nex: You hear that? Time to open up, Mr. Emotionally Repressed boy]

Zen: "...One more word and I'll mute you for twelve days."

[System Nex: GASP. You'd silence art? Tragedy.]

As they were shown to their guest dorms — elegant, floating suites overlooking a waterfall that spilled into a glowing ravine — the group scattered briefly, unpacking and exploring.

But later, as the first Vaelstrom sunset painted the sky in lavender and gold, Zen stood on the balcony of his dorm... thinking. The Academy felt foreign. Challenging. Like it had teeth behind its beauty.

And he knew — this was more than a visit.

This was a shift in fate.

• Next Morning

The next morning came with a cool breeze that danced through the crystal-lined windows of the Vaelstrom dorms. A faint mist clung to the rooftops of the academy like a lazy spirit, and the sky shimmered with a gradient of sunrise colors — peach, gold, soft indigo.

Zen stood at the edge of the open balcony, his hands resting on the cold railing, silently observing the architecture of Vaelstrom Academy in full daylight.

The buildings seemed woven from wind itself — curving towers with no beginning or end, floating walkways tethered by glowing runes, and great elemental rings suspended in the sky where students dueled in midair. The academy didn't just teach magic.

It was magic.

[System Nex: Ten points to them for aesthetic. I'd move in if I had legs.]

Zen said nothing, but his eyes reflected that quiet calculation — like a sword still in its sheath, but aware of the battlefield.

His steps carried him toward the lower courtyard, where several Vaelstrom students, dressed in ornate storm-stitched robes, gathered. Their eyes immediately flicked toward him. And then came the whispers — not subtle, not kind.

"He's from Eboncrest?"

"The country academy? Hah."

"Did they send farmboys now?"

"Guess even street trash gets lucky sometimes."

Zen paused mid-step, glancing their way. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. His presence alone was ice in the wind.

[System Nex: Say the word. I'll activate a 'Trip Over Your Own Arrogance' passive on them.]

But then—another figure appeared behind the mocking students. Silent. Almost unnoticed.

Until he spoke.

"That's enough."

The voice was calm, but it had weight. Like the slow drawing of a bow before the arrow flies.

A tall student with dusk-brown hair, tied loosely at the nape of his neck, stepped forward. His eyes were a pale amber — soft, but holding something deeper. Something unfathomable.

He wore the robes of Vaelstrom's upper scholars, but not a single ornament or emblem. Just simple grace.

The mocking students turned, clearly recognizing him.

"D-Daiki...!"

"W-We were just joking, really—"

Daiki didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.

"Your words reflect not your pride, but your fear. If your skill was as sharp as your tongue, you wouldn't waste time measuring others."

The courtyard went silent.

The students backed away with nervous laughter, mumbling excuses before vanishing into the nearby hall.

Zen eyed him, curious now.

Daiki turned toward Zen and offered a gentle nod. "Apologies for that. Some here... forget that strength doesn't come from where you start, but how far you carry it."

Zen studied him carefully. There was no mockery in Daiki. No masks. Just... quiet sincerity.

"I'm Daiki," the boy said, stepping forward. "Fourth Tier Scholar, Class of Tempest Arts."

New novel 𝓬hapters are published on ƒreewebɳovel.com.

"Zen," he replied simply. "Eboncrest."

Daiki's smile was brief, but real. "Would you like a tour?"

Zen blinked. "...You're offering?"

Daiki nodded. "Let's just say... I prefer to judge someone by presence, not rumors."

And so, the two walked together through the soaring corridors and elemental gardens of the academy. Daiki explained the different wings — The Spiral Library, home to sentient tomes; The Echo Wells, used to train magic by sound; and the Trial Rings, where spells danced like stars in stormy skies.

And beneath it all, Daiki kept his truth hidden — a quiet storm behind kind eyes.

A demon among scholars, hiding in plain sight.

But for now, he was simply a friend.

The Trial Rings floated like platforms over the northern spire of Vaelstrom Academy. Transparent bridges of swirling magic connected each arena, forming a constellation of battlegrounds in the sky.

Zen stood beside Daiki, watching students duel with choreographed precision—fire lashing like silk ribbons, wind compressed into blades, even one fight where gravity was reversed mid-clash.

Daiki gestured toward a ring where an instructor observed two mages.

"Only upper-tiered are allowed here usually," Daiki said, "but they'll make exceptions for visiting representatives. Just don't fall. The 'safety spell' isn't very... gentle."

Zen nodded, though his gaze was already locked on the fighters.

Then—chaos.

A whoosh, a CRACK, and the unmistakable voice of one disaster-in-human-form echoed from the bridge above.

"Zeeeeeeeeen! My brooo! They said this place floats—so I tried FLOATING—AAAAAAA—"

A body launched overhead, flailing mid-air like a sack of potatoes with opinions.

Zen blinked.

Daiki stepped calmly sideways.

Kleez landed face-first onto the platform, bounced once, and groaned dramatically. "...Nailed it."

[System Nex: Oh look, gravity works here too. That's reassuring.]

Zen raised an eyebrow as Kleez flopped over, giving a thumbs-up while upside down.

"I thought you were still back with the warm-up squad," Zen said.

Kleez grinned like a lunatic. "I was—until I saw the sky bridges and thought, 'You know what would impress everyone? Acrobatics!' Turns out? No one impressed. Especially not my spine."

Daiki chuckled under his breath.

Kleez finally sat up and caught sight of him. "Whoa—you're tall, calm, and not mocking me. You must be cool. What's your name?"

"Daiki," came the composed reply.

"Kleez. Resident Wind Maniac. I break rules and occasionally bones. Mostly my own."

Zen muttered, "More like break sound barriers."

Kleez jabbed a finger at the sky. "That's not a complaint. That's a compliment!"

Then Kleez looked between them and smirked. "Soooo... what's this? Our bro Zen already making local friends? Tch, you work fast. Is he like... your type, Daiki?"

Daiki blinked. "...My type?"

Zen turned crimson. "He's not—!"

Daiki smiled softly. "I think I'll need to spend more time observing before making that judgment."

Kleez dramatically clutched his heart. "OHHH no! Competition! I can't lose my bro to someone with better hair!"

[System Nex: You never stood a chance, wind gremlin.]

Zen sighed, rubbing his temples. "This is going to be a long day."

And yet—despite the floating arenas, the looming pressure of proving themselves, and the eyes of a new academy upon them—Zen couldn't help but feel lighter.

Maybe it was the wind.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was his idiot friends.

While Zen and Kleez made their uniquely dramatic entrance into Vaelstrom's elite rings, the other representatives from Eboncrest were... making impressions of their own.

Elvren Halcrest stood in a serene courtyard laced with violet ivy. He wasn't speaking, but the flames dancing at his fingertips whispered enough. A few Vaelstrom students lingered nearby—some impressed, others clearly trying to decipher whether he was showing off or meditating. The answer was yes.

One girl tried to strike a conversation.

"Are those flames... enchanted?"

Elvren gave her the gentlest look, smiled, and said, "They're mine."

The poor girl combusted. Metaphorically.

Arisha was already in a sparring ring. Sparks trailed from her fingertips, her eyes gleaming like storm glass as she matched pace with a cocky Vaelstrom elementalist.

"You think you're fast?" he had taunted.

She dusted her gloves. "Fast enough for you?"

[System Nex: Someone's enjoying themselves. Should I be worried? No? Maybe a little? Definitely a little.]

Sylvia found herself in Vaelstrom's ice gardens—yes, gardens made of sculpted frost and living crystal.

She stood perfectly still, breathing in the silence. With her iceblade she carved a small figure in the sculpture wall—a fox with wings.

A group of students passed and paused.

"That's beautiful," one whispered.

Sylvia didn't even glance back. "It's just practice."

But her smirk betrayed her pride.