2025-12-15 20:33:18Asta’s eyes snapped open.
His chest was rising and falling fast, like he had been running for hours. He sat up so quickly the thin mattress on the bunk bed creaked loud. The room was small and gray. Bare walls. A tiny window high up let in cold morning light. The air smelled of dust and old wood.
An old man sat on a wooden chair beside the bed, watching him with calm eyes.
“You okay, boy?”
The old man asked, his voice rough but not unkind.
Asta blinked, rubbed his face.
“Yeah… I think so.”
He looked around again, confusion written all over his face.
“Where the hell am I?”
The old man gave a small smile.
“No need to be scared. You’re in the Labourers’ Unit. Bottom floor of the academy. This is where flameless students work now.”
Asta’s heart dropped.
“Labourers’ Unit…? How did I get here?”
The old man stood up slowly, joints cracking.
“You ask too many questions.”
He said, turning toward the door.
“When we were rounding up the flameless ones after the ceremony, we found you passed out behind the academy. You were burning with fever. We carried you here and gave you some medicine.”
He looked over his shoulder.
“That's enough for you?”
Asta swallowed hard.
“Oh… yeah. Thank you, sir. And sorry for my manners.”
The old man nodded.
“It’s alright. Get up. Come register. From today, this is your new school.”
Asta climbed out of the bunk. His legs felt heavy, like they were made of stone.
As they walked down a dark, narrow hallway, the dragon’s huge red eye flashed in his mind again. Scales. Fire and Chains burning with flames.
His step faltered. His eyes went wide.
The old man noticed.
“You okay, boy?”
Asta shook his head fast, like trying to throw the picture out.
“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine.”
“Walk faster then.”
They reached a bigger room with long tables. A few older students sat there, wearing gray work clothes. When they saw Asta, whispers started.
“Isn’t that Asta Xavier?”
“The one with no flame?”
“Even the Fire Lord’s son ended up here…”
The old man slammed his hand on the table.
“QUIET! All of you!”
Everyone shut up fast.
He pushed a dirty register book toward Asta.
“Write your name. From now on you work with us. Clean floors. Carry coal. Fix things. That’s your life.”
Asta stared at the page. His hand shook as he wrote his name in black ink.
The old man watched him, his voice softer now.
“Don’t look so sad, boy. You’ll get used to it. Some even say they like it here.”
Asta forced a tiny smile. It died the second it appeared.
He finished and walked toward the exit.
The hallway to the outside was long and cold. His footsteps echoed.
Then,bump!
He walked straight into someone wearing a long brown cloak. The hood hid their faces.
“Oh! I’m sorry.”
A soft girl’s voice said.
She stepped around him quickly and disappeared down the hall.
Asta blinked.
“Wait… a girl? What is a girl doing down here?”
He shook his head and kept walking.
An hour later, he stood in front of the huge iron gates of Xavier Mansion
The golden lions looked the same, but everything felt wrong.
Two new guards in black armor blocked the entrance.
“Stop right there.”
One said, his voice hard.
“By order of the new Clan Head, Cassian Xavier,you are forbidden to step foot inside this compound.”
Asta froze.
“You’ve got to be kidding me… really?”
From the left side of the fence, near some trees, a familiar voice called softly.
“Young master Asta!”
Butler Grogerry stood there with a few maids and housekeepers. They were wearing normal clothes,no uniforms. Their eyes were red from crying. Some carried small bags, like they had been thrown out.
Asta ran over.
“Butler! What happened? Why are you all out here? Where are your uniforms?”
Grogery’s old face was full of pain.
“Young master… Master Cassian fired every one of us this morning. Anyone who was close to you… he said we had to leave. The mansion belongs to the strong now. Flameless have no place inside.”
Asta’s heart stopped.
“He… fired all of you? Because of me?”
The maids nodded, some crying quietly.
One whispered.
“He changed the locks. Threw our things in the street. Said the Xavier clan has no room for weakness or anyone who supports
weakness.”
Asta looked up at the mansion.
On the top balcony, Cassian stood watching, his arms folded and a cold smile on his face.
Asta stood there in the cold wind, his fists clenched and his eyes burning.
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Chapter 45
Flora reached out and squeezed Asta's shoulder, then did the same to Jabber. "...whoever gets called first, remember we've got your back. You're not alone out there. You're representing Ember Watch, and we believe in you.""Hell yeah." Mira added with a fierce grin. "Go out there and kick ass."With that, they split up. Flora and Mira heading down one corridor, Asta and Jabber heading down another. The walk back to their room was quiet, both of them lost in their own thoughts, the earlier excitement giving way to a more contemplative mood.When they reached their door, Asta pushed it open and stepped inside. The room looked exactly as they'd left it this morning,unmade bunks, his practice sword leaning against the wall, the small window letting in weak afternoon light. Nothing special, nothing fancy, but it was theirs.He'd barely had time to sit down on the edge of Jabber's lower bunk when there was a sharp knock at the door."Come in." Asta called.The door opened and a higher o
Chapter 44
Old Man Kael stood on the platform, his weathered hands still resting on his walking stick, waiting for the excited chatter to die down enough that he could continue. The crowd was buzzing with energy, a tournament meant action, meant proving themselves, meant finally having something concrete to strive for instead of endless days of repetitive labor and training.When the noise level dropped to something manageable, Kael spoke again, his voice cutting through the remaining murmurs with that authoritative calm that demanded attention."Now, let me explain how this tournament will work." He said, his cloudy eyes sweeping across the assembled laborers. "You all will have the chance to see how strong your squad members truly are. How well you work together when pressure is applied. How you adapt when plans fall apart. And perhaps most importantly, you'll see how strong your opponents are,what strategies they use, what flames they wield, what weaknesses they possess."He paused, letting
Chapter 43
The gathering quarters continued to fill. More and more laborers streaming in, the noise level rising as hundreds of conversations overlapped. Asta recognized some faces from training sessions or work details. Others were complete strangers,the labor section was large enough that you couldn't possibly know everyone.Finally, when the space was packed nearly to capacity, Old Man Kael raised one hand. The gesture was small, but somehow it cut through the noise like a blade. Conversations died down in ripples, starting near the front and spreading backward until the entire room had fallen into expectant silence.Kael let the silence hold for a moment longer, his cloudy eyes seeming to see through and past the assembled laborers to something beyond. Then he spoke, his voice carrying clearly despite not being particularly loud. There was something about his tone,the weight of experience, the authority of someone who'd earned respect rather than demanded it,that made people want to listen
Chapter 42
Flora asked once the laughter had died down a bit. "You said you got letters from your butler? That's nice that they wrote.""Yeah." Asta said, touching the pocket where he'd stored the letters, feeling their slight weight against his chest. "Gregor was my family's butler for decades," he wrote about what's happening at the mansion. My half-brother Cassian officially became clan leader a few nights ago. There was this whole ceremony with all the major clans."He tried to keep his voice neutral, but some bitterness must have leaked through because Flora's expression softened with sympathy."They also wrote about how they're doing." Asta continued quickly, not wanting to dwell on Cassian. "They got dismissed from the mansion after I was sent here,Cassian didn't want anyone loyal to me staying around, I guess. So now they're working as day laborers. Gregor , Helena, and Marcus,they're all doing hard physical work despite being older, despite having given decades of service to my fam
Chapter 41
“P.P.S. Marcus, I'm holding you to that promise about the sword techniques. Start preparing your best teaching voice.”“P.P.P.S. Gregor , please tell me honestly how bad your back is. If you need money for a healer, I'll find a way to send some. The labor section pays a pittance, but I've been saving every copper.”He read through what he'd written one more time, checking for anything he'd forgotten or wanted to add. Then he carefully folded the letter, sealed it with the basic wax provided at the portal station, and addressed it with their names and the return address they'd included in their letters.Asta placed his reply into the outgoing section of his portal,a separate small compartment meant for letters to be sent out,then locked everything back up. His hands were steadier now, the act of writing having helped him process some of the overwhelming emotions.He gathered Gregor 's, Helena's, and Marcus's letters carefully, tucking them into the inner pocket of his tunic where they
Chapter 40
“Also, I'm enclosing a recipe in case you ever get access to cooking facilities. It's your favorite,the honey cakes I used to make for your birthday. The ingredients are simple enough that you might be able to acquire them, and the process isn't too complicated. Something sweet to remind you of better days.”Asta looked at the bottom of the letter where Helena had indeed written out the recipe in careful detail, each step numbered and explained as if she were standing beside him in a kitchen, guiding his hands. His vision blurred again.“Write back to us, dear boy. Even a short note would mean the world.”“With love,Helena”“P.S Marcus says to tell you he's been practicing some new knife techniques and when you visit “notice I said 'when,' not 'if',I'm an optimist”, he'll teach them to you. They're quite impressive, if I do say so myself.”The third letter was from Marcus, and it was much shorter.Marcus had never been much for writing, preferring to express himself through his cookin
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