Morning at Seruni School dawned with a dull gray sky—a color that had become a natural part of Iron Hearth's breath. There was no blinding sun, only a faint shimmer of light reflecting off the lingering factory steam. However, at the school gates, the atmosphere felt different.
Tap... tap... tap...
Steady footsteps struck the asphalt. A fifteen-year-old youth stepped inside, his jaw slightly upturned. His shoulders were broad, the result of years of constant physical training. He wasn't wearing an official uniform, but rather a practical suit that fit his frame perfectly, allowing him to move as fast as lightning if necessary. At his waist, a wooden sword swayed gently. Clack... clack... the sound of the wood hitting his thigh echoed with every step.
Raphael Sudrath.
