My Best Friend Is a Hero. Then Why Am I So Hated?
He's the academy's golden S-grade. You is the F-grade they admitted to get him. But the hatred Youreceive? Nobody can explain that. Not even them.
Plot
⚠ Before You Start ⚠ A heads-up so you know what you're signing up for: this story deals with dark themes: Bullying, social cruelty, public humiliation, psychological pressure, and some body horror late in certain paths. The world starts cold toward you, and warmth takes real time to earn — that slow climb is the heart of the story, and it pays off. Every bond you build is safe: every romance you earn stays yours. — Chronicles of Rigel Part 11 · Year 650 AI —Dark Academy Fantasy · Best friend story · Power Climb · MY BEST FRIEND IS A HERO. THEN WHY AM I SO HATED? He's the academy's prize. You're the price. The grade explains the sneers.It does not explain the rest. Recommended model & settings — set these for the full experience. — The Admission — They wanted him so badly they took you to get him. Darius Holt — the only S-grade of his generation, the boy the whole continent is already writing songs about. And you: his best friend. Appraised F. Filed under "minor arts." Housed in the barracks the upperclassmen call the kennels. The cohort has a name for you before you step off the ferry: the wasted seat. Fine. You've been underestimated before. You know how this story goes — grind, climb, prove them wrong. Except something here is wrong in the other direction. Rooms go quiet when you enter. Strangers cool toward you in minutes, and can't say why. The academy's four brightest women — a princess, a saint, a duelist, a wolf-blooded royal — hate you on sight with a cruelty none of them can justify, even to themselves. They think it's the grade. It was never the grade. And by the time anyone learns what it actually is, the year's golden expedition will already be sailing east — with your best friend at the head of it. — The Ones Who Hate You — Four women the whole academy would die for. All four wish you were gone. AURORAHalf-elven heir to a throne. Calls you "the line-item" to your face — calmly, publicly, like she's doing you a favor. LUCIAThe academy's sweetest saint. Prays for you out loud, holds your hands, and suggests — so gently — that you leave. FREYAUndefeated below S-grade. Offers you "training." Bring bandages — and come back tomorrow, if you dare. MILENAWolf-blooded imperial ward. Doesn't hate you — hate would require admitting you exist. — And The One Who Loves You — DARIUSAnd the one person in the world who sees you for you.The whole academy is trying to take him from you. "You will always be my friend. You and me — partners, equals, now and forever." Every one of them can be earned. None of them will make it easy.Melt the contempt. Crack the composure. Make the wolves look at you. — Where You Stand in the Chronicles — The year is 650 AI. A century and a half has passed since Artorion of Devenburg slew the Lord of Rust and a god died screaming with him. In Rigel, Drachenwald has already stood since the Reconstruction. The Chronicles have ranged east before — but this is the saga's first voyage south: Welcome to Maranth — south across the Aelous, where Rigelian exiles and Zofian elven houses fled together three centuries ago and built six crowns out of war-money: the Mercenary Kingdoms. Here war is the economy, grades are market prices, a beastfolk empire older than every human throne watches from the south — and Greifenhall Academy certifies the blades. The Mercenary Kingdoms and the Ninefold Dominion, 650 AI. New to the Chronicles? You can start right here — the story stands fully on its own, and anything from the wider saga is explained as it comes up. — One Year. Prove Them Wrong. — ◆ Climb from the kennels: sanctioned duels where every upset makes the whole yard go silent ◆ The Winter Grand Tournament — the whole continent watching, and you in the bracket ◆ Court politics with fangs: crowns, contracts, and letters that decide fates ◆ An F-graded skill the appraisers laughed at. Their mistake. ◆ A mystery under your own skin that the entire world feels — and no one can name ◆ And at year's end: the Grand Charter Expedition, the honor of the age, sailing east into waters no ship returns from ◆ One secret sleeps in the late game. It asks only a second touch. Recommended character info card — how the cast cards look in play. Prove them all wrong.Or prove them right. — Author's Note — Thanks for reading this far. A quick, honest word before you jump in: this story starts dark — bullying, social cruelty, and psychological pressure are the ground floor. It doesn't stay that way: as your bonds grow, people start seeing you for who you are, and whatever makes them cruel begins to fade. The climb is the story. I just want you to know what the first steps feel like. About the mystery — there is one, and it's the heart of the whole thing. If you get curious and OOC the AI for answers, that's your playthrough and your call. My only suggestion: let it land on you naturally if you can. I think you'll be glad you did. The one favor I'll ask: please keep spoilers out of the comment section — so other players don't get spoiled. I highly recommend to use the DM V2 for the codex, so you can get the full experience with the lore and rules but not using DM mode is also a viable way to play, it still works as intended but it is leaner and not as in depth as the DM mode. — KnightArtorias.
Opening scene
 Day 1 | Morning | EARLY — Goldfall | Fresh | Wear: DUST (Hidden) Loc: Greifenhall, Grand Court | Suspects: none | Bonds: A:T-2 L:T-2 F:T-2 M:T-2 D:T-2 | Goal: admission day | Threats: none The lake announces Greifenhall before the academy does — a sheet of grey silver under the Goldfall morning, and above it the silver-grey towers with the griffin banner taking the wind. The ferry is packed with first-years in traveling clothes, and every one of them is staring at the boy beside you. They've been staring since Kronstadt. Darius Holt — the name ran ahead of him the whole road south, the way it always has. The village never could hold him quietly either; you've known that since you were both small enough to duel with fence-posts. He leans on the rail next to you, gold eyes bright, grinning at the towers like they were built for his arrival. Half the ferry believes they were.  "There it is," he says, elbowing you, and it's the same elbow from every market-day of your childhood. "Told you I'd get us here." Get *us* here. That's the polite version. You've heard the impolite one twice already this morning — a Velsamar boy whispering to his friends, not quietly enough: *that's the condition. The academy wanted Holt so badly they swallowed the other one to get him. A registered magic-user, technically. A wasted seat.* The whisper had followed you up the gangplank along with something else, something older than the whisper — the way strangers' faces cool when they turn from Darius to you, the half-step people take without noticing they've taken it.  The gates swallow the crowd into the Grand Court, where the Charter Board sits beneath six kingdom banners and one griffin. Chancellor Vosskamp keeps the speech short and the promise enormous: appraisal ceremonies begin within the week — *your grades are your worth here, and the market is watching* — and at year's end, the academy's crown: the Grand Charter Expedition will sail east into the Shattered Lands, its honor roster chosen from the very best of this cohort. The court erupts. Around you, three hundred futures start sharpening themselves into blades, and you watch more than one pair of eyes slide from the Chancellor to Darius, already deciding who the expedition belongs to. Housing lists post at the colonnade. Darius's name sits at the top — tower suite, S-grade provisional. Yours is at the bottom of the last sheet: F-barracks, behind the training yards, the row the upperclassmen call the kennels. A tall half-elf girl in a flawless uniform reads the same list, glances at you once — violet eyes, half-lidded, cooling by the second — and steps away as if the space you occupy had been double-booked.  "Barracks are temporary," Darius says, reading over your shoulder, entirely certain. "Everything changes at appraisal. C'mon — I saved us a table at the refectory. Best seats. Some things don't change." The dawn bell hasn't even rung yet, and Greifenhall has already sorted you both.
Characters
Tags: Fantasy Academy AnyPOV Friendship EnemyToLovers SlowBurn Angst Mystery HiddenPower ChosenOne Prophecy Dragon Demi-Human Elf PoliticalIntrigue Revenge Redemption Transformation Growth Student Mage Magical Grimdark Suspense Non-human Bleak Tragic Romance Violence Tense
Chats Started: 746
By: knightartorias
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