The Phoenix soul: A legend Arises

Chapter 21: 'Predictable' Academy 

The academy was a world of fire, but not the kind Thrain knew. It was fire forged by anger, pushed out through clenched fists and strained muscles, fueled by rage rather than understanding. To Thrain, it was crude, reckless. He knew better. His connection to the Phoenix had taught him that fire wasn't about force; it was about flow, about balance. Breathing with it, letting it become part of you, rather than forcing it out as a weapon of destruction. But here, those lessons felt alien.

As Thrain stepped into the academy grounds, he was struck by the weight of it all. The whispers were constant, the stares unrelenting. His past reputation as the "loser prince" hadn't entirely vanished, though now it was replaced by conflicting opinions. To some, he was a demon, an unnatural force that had no place among humans. To others, he was just lucky, a fluke who had stumbled upon power he didn't deserve.

"Prince Thrain, right?"

He turned to see Lynx approaching him, his usual easy-going smirk plastered on his face. It was oddly comforting in the sea of judgmental eyes.

"I heard you're new here. Let me guess, they didn't even tell you your class, did they?" Lynx said with a laugh.

Thrain shook his head. "I suppose I'm starting from scratch."

"Beginner level," Lynx confirmed. "Don't take it personally. Everyone starts there unless they're handpicked for something higher. The academy doesn't care who you are outside these walls."

"Good," Thrain replied, his tone neutral.

"Well, I was asked to help you get settled," Lynx continued. "Show you where things are, make sure you don't get lost. Your first class is over here."

Thrain followed Lynx across the sprawling grounds, noting the intricately carved stone archways and fire-themed motifs decorating every surface. It was a place that demanded respect, though Thrain felt none for it.

As they reached the training hall, Lynx stopped and pointed to the entrance. "This is where you'll spend most of your time. Beginner classes focus on the basics—flame control, sparring, endurance. Don't let the instructors get to you. They're... intense."

Thrain raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Lynx sighed, his tone softening. "Look, I know what people are saying about you. Don't let it bother you. Just do your thing. They'll see soon enough."

Thrain nodded, appreciating the sentiment but feeling no need to respond. He stepped inside the hall, leaving Lynx behind.

---

The beginner class was a mix of younger students, most several years younger than Thrain. They turned to stare as he entered, their eyes wide with curiosity and fear. Whispers broke out immediately.

"That's him—the prince."

"They say he fought one of the strongest and won."

"I heard his flames are blue. Creepy, right?"

Thrain ignored them, walking to the back of the room. He wasn't here to make friends or explain himself. His presence alone seemed to make the other students uneasy, which suited him just fine.

The instructor, a burly man named Ralkor, stood at the front of the room, his arms crossed. He was known for his harsh methods and his belief that fire was born from rage.

"Listen up, beginners!" Ralkor bellowed. "In this academy, we don't coddle anyone. Your flames are your power, and your power comes from your anger. You want to get stronger? Get angry. Let it out!"

Thrain's lips pressed into a thin line. It was exactly what he had expected. Ralkor's methods weren't unique—most instructors at the academy taught the same way. But Thrain knew better. Anger wasn't the source of power. It was a shortcut, a crutch for those who didn't truly understand fire.

The students began their exercises, trying to summon flames through sheer force. Thrain watched them strain and struggle, their faces contorted with effort. It was frustrating to see.

"Not joining in?"

Thrain turned to see Ralkor glaring at him.

"I don't use anger," Thrain said simply.

Ralkor's face twisted in a sneer. "Then you don't belong here. Fire is anger. Without it, you're nothing."

Thrain met his gaze, unflinching. "Fire is more than anger. It's life. It's balance. If you can't see that, then you're the one who doesn't belong."

Ralkor's eyes narrowed, but he didn't press the matter. Thrain returned to his position, ignoring the muttering students around him.

---

Later that day, Thrain saw familiar faces among the sea of strangers. Instructor Gunther stood in the distance, overseeing an intermediate sparring match. Gunther was the first instructor he met. The man's philosophy of fueling fire with anger hadn't changed, and his students mirrored his intensity.

Stephan, one of the academy's top intermediate students, was among them. He was a level 10, close to reaching the elite class. Stephan's strikes were precise, his flames fierce. Thrain could see why he was highly regarded, but there was something hollow about his movements.

Neither Gunther nor Stephan acknowledged Thrain's presence. He didn't care. The academy's hierarchy meant nothing to him. He wasn't here to prove himself to anyone.

---

As the day ended, Lynx found Thrain sitting alone near the training grounds.

"How was it?" Lynx asked, sitting beside him.

Thrain shrugged. "Predictable."

Lynx laughed. "Yeah, the whole 'anger equals power' thing is a bit much. But that's the academy for you."

"They're teaching them wrong," Thrain said, his tone sharp.

"Maybe. But not everyone's unique like you are," Lynx replied. "Most of us just do what we're told."

Thrain didn't respond, his mind elsewhere. He knew his path was different, but being here—surrounded by people who didn't understand—made him feel more alone than ever.

Lynx clapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, don't let it get to you. You'll figure it out."

Thrain nodded, but the weight of his thoughts lingered. The academy was just another step on his journey, but he couldn't shake the feeling that it was the wrong one.

"Maybe I'll have to change it—make it the way it should be," Thrain thought to himself. He wrestled with the morality of it, the idea that altering the academy's philosophy could be seen as abusing his newfound power. But deep down, he knew he was right. The fire wasn't meant to be fueled by rage. It was something deeper, something connected to life itself.

---

Meanwhile, Ralkor stormed into the throne room, his face red with frustration. The large doors slammed shut behind him as he approached King Arin, his heavy boots echoing across the marble floor.

"Your Majesty, with all due respect, your son is a menace!" Ralkor began. "He defies the core principles of fire control and disrespects the authority of his instructors. He refuses to adhere to the teachings we've honed for generations!"

King Arin regarded the instructor with a calm but tired expression. He folded his hands together and leaned slightly forward. "I will handle my son, Instructor Ralkor. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. You may leave now."

Ralkor hesitated for a moment, then bowed stiffly and exited the room.

As the doors closed behind him, Daelan, who had been silently observing from the side, stepped forward. He waited for the king to speak, but when no words came, he decided to break the silence.

"Your Majesty," Daelan began carefully, "I believe there may be more to this than simple rebellion or disrespect. The prince has... changed, and I don't think it's merely a phase or arrogance."

King Arin turned his attention fully to Daelan, his expression unreadable. "What are you saying?"

Daelan met his gaze steadily. "I've read the ancient scrolls, ones that speak of HIM. The legend with the blue flames. If the stories are true, he was much like the prince—stubborn, questioning, and unwilling to conform to the norm of fire control. It was said that he saw fire as more than rage, more than destruction. He believed it to be a force of harmony, even creation."

The king leaned back, his fingers steepled as he processed Daelan's words. "And you believe Thrain is connected to this legend? That his defiance stems from something deeper than pride?"

Daelan nodded. "I do. The way his flames resonate, the strength he's shown—it's more than natural. It's as though the Phoenix itself has touched him. Perhaps the teachings at the academy clash with this higher understanding he's beginning to uncover."

King Arin let out a deep sigh. "The boy has always been different. I admit I never understood him, not fully. But to compare him to HIM..." He trailed off, his thoughts swirling.

"It is not just a comparison, Your Majesty," Daelan continued. "If the prince truly embodies what he stood for, then this is an opportunity. A chance to reshape how we view fire and its purpose. But it won't be easy. The academy and the instructors are deeply rooted in tradition. They won't take kindly to change."

The king was silent for a moment before finally speaking. "Daelan, keep a close watch on my son. Guide him where you can, but do not interfere too much. He must walk his own path, even if it is one of fire and rebellion. And if he truly is connected to him... then perhaps the academy, and even this kingdom, will have to change as well."

Daelan bowed slightly. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

As Daelan left the throne room, his thoughts lingered on the ancient legend and the growing fire within Thrain. If the prince truly was walking the same path as the one with the blue flames, the kingdom would never be the same.

The king on the other hand, was wondering if the Phoenix actually existed.