The Place where Aces are Made

  The world is at war!

  But on the outskirts of the capital city of Delrado, far south from the chaos and destruction of the frontlines, one might not even notice there was a war going on at all.

  Here, rolling green hills and meadows glisten in the tropical warmth and sunshine of Solar’s homelands. These peaceful lands are only populated by the chirping of the colorful Coocaboo birds singing in the palm trees and the rumbling of a rare magicar rolling down the road past the vibrant, green fields.

  The only exception being one very large and prominent academy settled amongst these lush fields.

  But this is no ordinary academy.

  That much is clear the moment one approaches its gilded, ornate gates, emblazoned with a symbol of a golden sprout. Surrounded by thick stucco walls, barring entry to all but those deemed privileged enough to pass through.

  If one were to pass through the entrance, they would be met by a pristine courtyard, bisected by a red-brick walkway, and flanked by beautifully trimmed hedges cut into perfect geometric perfection, while the scent of freshly cut grass lingers through the warm air, even well into the evening.

  Following the red brick road leads directly to the academy’s imposing heart, a grand building painted in a warm cream hue as its deep terracotta roofs catches the golden sunlight. Its windows gleam with the glare of the setting sun, all while a towering clock tower rises above its entrance, piercing the sky with a small red flag proudly fluttering in the breeze.

  This main schoolhouse—flanked by similarly well constructed dormitories—might give one the impression that this is just another expensive boarding school, where the elite can send their children to learn far away from the public rabble. And that impression might even persist as one enters through the large oak doors deeper inside, down trophy-lined hallways echoing with the sound of light murmuring of muffled lectures.

  Yet, if one were to peer closer into one of these classrooms you might see something quite peculiar.

  Such as a mischievous boy stifling a laugh as a faint yellow light flickers from a device on his wrist—just before his neighbor jolts with a startled yelp. And in another corner, a sly girl glances under her desk, where an impossible reflection mirrors the answers from some other student's test. Or you might wonder why the teacher is pacing by the desks wearing a full, red and gold military officer’s uniform or the fact that the chalkboard doesn’t have equations or book passages, but rather army formations and military strategies.

  And should you glance through the class’s rear-facing windows you will be faced with a sight more fitting of a boot camp than a school.

  A vast red track looping around the yard, occupied by boys and girls huffing and puffing as they struggle to keep pace. Around it, rows of students hit the dirt in perfect sync, urged on by instructors barking sharp insults cutting deeper than their already heavy exhaustion.

  Further afield in the sprawling fields behind the academy, lay shooting ranges where kids hold up sluggers ill-fitting the size of the young teens wielding them, while they practice firing at straw dummies with dented blue helmets and crudely drawn faces.

  Across from that, a dirt path leading to a large garage—its interior lit up bright with the sound of clanking metal and the flickering of blowtorches.

  Inside, students tinker away with various machines and devices as they learn the finer points of arcane engineering. Some contraptions hum to life as their embedded crystals light up, while others (built by less gifted students) splutter, spark, or collapse into a heap of metal.

  Looking further in past students' workbenches, the vast garage holds an array of mechanical wonders, from mortars and shield generators, to larger equipment like howitzers and anti-juggernaut cannons all neatly stored away for future demonstrations.

  Several vehicles in various states of repair sit nearby as well, providing students with opportunities to learn maintenance and operation. Even a few aging training Juggernauts stand amongst the machinery—though less imposing than their battlefield counterparts, resembling armored farm tractors more than war machines.

  And a short walk beyond the garage would reveal a modest airstrip where you could witness a airobird, piloted by a senior student, touch down under the careful guidance of an instructor. The aircraft kicking up a cloud of dust as its wheels meet the ground.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  But perhaps the most unique structure sits just a short walk away from the main campus.

  A stark contrast to the academy’s sunlit facades, this imposing concrete hall looms tall and solid—more an ornate fortress than a school hall. Even from outside one can hear strange muffled sounds of wooshes, whirring, and thunderous booms.

  That is because this reinforced structure isn’t designed to protect what’s inside, but rather to protect the school grounds from undue damage by what goes on within.

  For this is where magic happens—quite literally.

  Despite the building’s imposing architecture, the inside of the building is surprisingly cavernous and austere with nothing on the ground but a sandy dirt floor.

  Lined across the sides are rows of cubicle-like sections separated with thick walls. From within, colorful lights and sounds of magic flare up over and over. Inside, the students fire off their sluggers again and again as they attempt to gain mastery over their spells. Each one attempting their own magical feat of wonder.

  In one cubicle, a boy fires an orange bolt into the ground before him, and the earthen floor shudders before churning into a sludgy quicksand—perfect for slowing a would-be enemy. In another, a girl aims her slugger straight down near her feet, before a quick purple flash produces a constant swirling gust under her, lifting her aloft as though she were weightless. Past that, a boy conjures a floating yellow orb of electricity from his slugger, only to see as the orb barely drifts a few feet away before bursting in a deafening crack of thunder, hurling him sprawling backward onto the ground in shame.

  Instructors pace between the rows, correcting mistakes and refining technique. They sift through spell cartridges, assessing each student's strengths while ensuring the overambitious ones don’t attempt spells beyond their capabilities.

  And when accidents do inevitably happen, school medics stand ready. Clearly marked with satchels bearing a red cross, they rush over when called, mending wounds and resetting bones with restorative spells and tools, raising students back to their feet almost as quickly as they fell.

  Yet, even all this is only part of the rigorous training within the walls of this campus. Beyond the practice halls, every lesson, every drill, and every expectation serves a singular purpose—to forge the finest Mage Soldiers the Dominion has to offer.

  This is the Provedencia Officer’s Academy, The Place Where Aces Are Made.

  While some high schools might offer optional magic courses, and all Solar citizens are mandated to undergo a short military training, Provedencia goes far beyond. It does not educate students—it forges leaders. Combining academics, military conditioning, and arcane mastery, the academy is designed to shape Solar’s next generation of great Mage Soldiers.

  Entry into Provedencia is tightly controlled, requiring either a recommendation from a high-ranking officer or passing an entrance exam so rigorous that only one in a thousand succeed. Yet for those who make it, success is all but guaranteed, with graduates securing prominent positions across the military, business, and civil corps.

  At Provedencia, every student follows a core curriculum of academic studies and Mage Soldier training, but as they advance, they branch into more specialized fields. Whether it be with the military in the Home Guard, Expedition Corps, or Navy Corps, or pursuing more technical expertise in the Engineer Corps or Business Corps, or perhaps helping to manage the nation through the Administration Corps or Judicial Corps, the academy provides tailored paths for any role in the Dominion.

  But Provedencia’s true appeal lies in its legacy. For within its alumni lie legends.

  Almost a third of all active Aces have made their start as former students of this academy. Meaning, for any young cadet with aspirations of joining the ranks of the legendary Aces, this is the place to be.

  Yet, for all its strict discipline and military order, magic does not bend to rules of regimental order so easily. A soldier thrives on structure, but magic is fueled by something far less predictable—requiring focus to control, imagination to shape, and willpower to bend it into reality.

  So while by day, students march in formation, adhering to strict discipline under the watchful eyes of their instructors. Once the school day ends and the students be left to their own devices, a different energy takes hold of the academy.

  As the bells toll across campus, a wave of euphoria sweeps through the students. Chairs scrape against the floor as they spring from their seats, rushing toward the exits. Like cockroaches scattering from under a rock, students storm into the halls and spill out the doors. The gems in their caster watches shining on their wrists, as the students are free to let their unique personalities and talents show, no longer bound by the restrictions of class hours.

  Down the steps, a group of boys slide down the railing on a thin layer of ice that vanishes just as quickly as it formed. Some cadets, too impatient for the stairwells, take more creative routes—one leaping from a window, catching a gust of wind to glide gently to the pavement below. And another growing vine that twists up from the ground, curling into makeshift ladders to create a shortcut to their dorm room. And in the shadows behind the buildings, the earth silently parts as a pair of blushing truant lovebirds emerge from their hidden hideaway and slip into the growing crowd unnoticed.

  Across the campus, the air buzzes with the shouts of energetic students and the crackling of magic springing to life. Shouts and laughter fill up the campus as a chaotic energy fills the academy with excitement found nowhere else but a true magical school like Provedencia.

  And yet, far in the back of the academy, picking himself off the dirt of the mock battlefield, lies sixteen-year-old Damian Vearez—bruised, battered, and humiliated. In a school filled with prodigies and magical talent, he possesses no special skills, and no remarkable spells to his name.

  Yet as he lifts his gaze to the setting sun casting golden light over the academy, he remembers the promise he made to himself long ago. No matter the odds, no matter how many times he falls, no matter what challenges he may face, he will never give up—because one day, he will be a hero. Just like his father.