The King’s Path

Edward trudged through the hallways of Imperial Academy, his mind still clouded with the remnants of last night's dream. The image of Gilgamesh, standing tall against gods and divine beings, burned vividly in his memory. It felt like more than just a dream—it was a glimpse into a forgotten past, a past that someone, somewhere, had deliberately erased.

He shook his head, trying to push the thoughts aside as he approached his classroom.

Class B.

He sighed. Being placed in Class B was no surprise. After all, his so-called heroic spirit—Ahnavat, the Weapon Forger—was a B-rank, and the school placed students in classes according to their awakened rank. While students like Anastasia, Hellaina, and Julian were enjoying the prestige of Class A, he was stuck here with the other so-called "mid-tier" awakened.

Not that he particularly cared. It just meant fewer expectations, and after the public humiliation of his awakening, that suited him just fine.

Walking through the classroom doors, Edward was met with a group of unfamiliar faces. The students in Class B were a mix of excitement and resignation—some thrilled to be here, others clearly bitter that they hadn't made it into Class A.

"Yo, new guy!" A voice called out from across the room. A wiry, energetic-looking guy with spiky brown hair grinned at him. "Edward Ludovic, right? The blacksmith dude?"

Edward forced a smile. "That's me. Try not to be too impressed."

A few chuckles rippled through the class, and Edward took a seat near the back, glad to keep a low profile. But even as he settled in, a few students shot him curious glances, no doubt wondering how the son of two high-ranking awakened heroes had ended up with such an unimpressive heroic spirit.

"Guess I'll just have to show them," Edward thought, leaning back in his chair.

The first half of the day passed in a blur of theory lessons—lectures on the history of heroic spirits, combat tactics, and energy manipulation. Edward tuned most of it out, already knowing that his abilities would be vastly different from what the combat-focused students were learning.

Finally, the class transitioned into the practical training session, and Edward followed his classmates into the academy's sprawling training grounds. The area was equipped with dummies, combat arenas, and various forging stations meant for support-type awakenings like his own.

"Alright, Class B," their instructor, a burly, scarred man named Instructor Susan Graves, barked. "Today, we're assessing your heroic spirit abilities in a controlled environment. This will help us determine your strengths, weaknesses, and potential applications in the field. Step up when I call your name."

Edward waited patiently as the other students demonstrated their abilities. Some had awakened abilities that enhanced their physical strength, while others had elemental affinities—fire manipulation, lightning strikes, the usual flashy stuff that made people take notice.

Then, She called his name.

"Ludovic! Step forward!"

Edward walked to the center of the training ground, feeling dozens of eyes on him. Some were curious, others skeptical, and a few outright amused.

"Your heroic spirit specializes in crafting, right?" Graves asked, arms crossed.

Edward nodded. "Yeah. Ahnavat, the Weapon Forger."

"Alright. Show us what you've got. There are a variety of materials over there. See if you can create something worthwhile."

Edward exhaled and moved to the pile of materials—various metal ores, broken weapons, and enchanted relics left behind by past students.

As Edward approached the materials, an instinctive sensation kicked in. A faint glow surrounded his vision, and he suddenly knew what he was looking at—not just their physical appearance, but their structure, properties, and potential.

"So this is Ahnavat's ability, huh? Interesting..."

A status window appeared in his mind, detailing the exact composition of a worn-out longsword he picked up.

Material: Iron-Steel Alloy Condition: 40% integrity remaining Structural Weaknesses: Blade edge compromised, hilt imbalance Potential: Suitable for basic combat after repairEdward smirked. "Not bad."

He placed the weapon down and moved to a hunk of raw mithril ore. This time, his ability activated in full force.

Material: Mithril Ore (Grade A) Condition: Untouched Potential: High magical conductivity, suitable for enchantment amplification"I can see everything... the possibilities, the limits, the flaws. It's like I'm reading a book with all the answers."

Instructor Graves observed him curiously. "Well? What do you see?"

Edward placed his hands on the mithril ore and focused. A golden glow pulsed beneath his fingertips, and within moments, the raw ore restructured itself in his mind—malleable, shapeable.

"Alright, let's see if I can actually create something."

Closing his eyes, Edward visualized the weapon in his mind—a simple dagger, sharp and lightweight, nothing too fancy. His heroic spirit's power flowed through him, and before his classmates' eyes, the mithril ore morphed, forming into a beautifully crafted mithril dagger with intricate engravings along the hilt.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

"Whoa... he actually made instantly out of that raw ore?"

Instructor Graves stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Impressive. And how's the durability?"

Edward grinned. "Let's test it."

He tossed the dagger at one of the training dummies, and upon impact, the blade sliced cleanly through its reinforced hide, embedding itself deep into the wooden frame.

"Not bad," Edward muttered, walking over to retrieve it. "But it could use some enhancements."

Edward focused again, this time willing an enchantment onto the dagger. He imagined it becoming sharper, faster, deadlier. The blade shimmered as glowing runes appeared along its surface, crackling with latent energy.

Graves watched with growing interest. "An enchantment, too? Not bad, Ludovic."

Edward threw the enchanted dagger again. This time, it sliced through two dummies in one go, leaving behind a faint trail of blue energy.

The class murmured in surprise, and for the first time, Edward felt a flicker of confidence in his abilities.

Maybe Ahnavat wasn't so bad after all.

After the practical ended, Edward wiped sweat from his brow and leaned against the forge, satisfied but still wary. Sure, his ability was impressive in its own way, but it wasn't a combat skill—not in the traditional sense.

"Not bad," a familiar voice said.

Edward turned to see Anastasia standing at the edge of the training field, arms crossed but with a hint of a smile on her lips.

"You came to see me fail?" Edward teased.

Anastasia shook her head. "No. I came to see if you'd finally start taking this seriously."

Edward laughed. "Well, it's not as bad as I thought." He held up the mithril dagger, watching it gleam under the sunlight. "Guess I'm stuck being the toolbox hero."

Anastasia's smile softened. "A toolbox can be the most important thing in a war, Edward. Remember that."

Edward nodded, a newfound determination settling in his chest. He still had a lot to figure out—about his abilities, about Gilgamesh, and about the world's buried secrets.

But for now... he had a blade to forge, and a path to carve.

A week had passed since Edward's awakening, and despite the initial sting of being placed in Class B, he found himself slowly adjusting to his new environment.

Class B wasn't nearly as glamorous as Class A, but Edward was starting to see that it had its own charm. The students here were a mix of the ambitious, the resigned, and the overlooked—those who didn't quite make it to the top but were still determined to carve out their own paths.

Edward had quickly fallen into a routine: mornings filled with lectures on combat tactics, energy manipulation, and heroic theory, followed by afternoons of practical exercises where he honed his forging skills. Each day, he learned a little more about his abilities, refining his weapon projections and enchantments, though deep inside, the nagging feeling of insignificance still lingered.

But his biggest headache wasn't his rank or his training.

It was Hellaina Arden.

Hellaina had made it her personal mission to invade Edward's life at every opportunity.

"Edwaaard~" she sang one afternoon as she leaned against his desk in the middle of class.

Edward groaned, resisting the urge to slam his head onto the table. "God, not again. Hellaina, do you have to do this every day?"

She grinned mischievously, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder. "Of course! Someone has to keep you entertained, right?"

"You mean 'tormented.'"

Hellaina only giggled, her emerald eyes twinkling with mischief. "Relax, Ed. You're fun to mess with."

Edward had learned quickly that wherever Hellaina went, trouble followed.

It wasn't Hellaina herself that was the problem—she was charming, confident, and a genuinely fun person to be around. No, the problem was her fanboys.

They lurked in the shadows of Class B, the hallways, and the training grounds, glaring daggers at Edward whenever she approached him. They saw him as a threat, even though Edward made it abundantly clear that he had zero romantic interest in her.

One particularly painful memory came when Hellaina insisted on dragging him to lunch with her.

As soon as they stepped into the cafeteria, Edward felt dozens of eyes drilling into him. The whispers started immediately.

"Why's he with her?"

"That loser blacksmith?!"

"Ugh, he doesn't even deserve to stand next to her!"

Edward sighed, massaging his temples. "Hellaina, you do realize your presence makes my life ten times harder, right?"

She only winked. "You should get used to it, Eddie. If you don't want to suffer later, that is."

Edward frowned. "What does that even mean?"

Hellaina simply laughed and left him to fend off the horde of jealous admirers.

Despite Hellaina's antics, Edward had started to build his own little circle of friends in Class B.

The first person to introduce himself properly to Edward was Argus Caine, a boisterous and energetic guy with wild spiky brown hair and a never-ending supply of enthusiasm.

Argus had awakened the heroic spirit of Fergus mac Róich, the legendary Celtic warrior known for his boundless strength and charisma.

"So, Ed, you're a blacksmith, huh?" Argus had said during their first sparring match. He twirled his spear effortlessly, flashing a confident grin. "I'm a Lancer myself. Fergus was kind of a big deal, you know. Women, wine, and war—he had it all!"

Edward had chuckled. "Yeah, yeah, I'm sure. Try not to stab me while you're showing off."

Since then, the two had developed a solid friendship. Argus was always loud, always laughing, and always dragging Edward into sparring sessions to test out the weapons he forged. Though Edward wasn't exactly thrilled about getting beaten up repeatedly, Argus's presence made training more enjoyable.

"Come on, man, just make me a legendary spear already!" Argus whined one afternoon. "How hard can it be?"

Edward sighed. "You do realize I can't just pull legendary weapons out of thin air, right? There's an actual process."

Argus groaned dramatically. "Excuses, excuses. At least let me borrow one of your fancy enchanted daggers."

"No way."

If Argus was a storm of energy, then Rosa Watson was the exact opposite. She was a quiet, reserved girl with short auburn hair and deep brown eyes that seemed to constantly avoid eye contact. She had awakened the spirit of Galahad, the virtuous knight of the Round Table, known for his unwavering defense and protective nature.

Edward had first noticed Rosa during practical class when they were paired for a team exercise. She had stood silently, clutching her enchanted shield tightly as if afraid of failing.

"You okay?" Edward had asked.

She had nodded quickly, barely speaking above a whisper. "Y-Yeah... I'm just... not very good at this yet."

Edward had smiled, recognizing the same uncertainty in her that he felt himself. "Don't worry. We'll figure it out."

To his surprise, Rosa proved to be incredibly skilled in defensive tactics once she found her confidence. Her shield, imbued with protective enchantments, could withstand even the hardest of blows, and her quiet determination slowly earned her respect among their peers.

Despite her shyness, Edward found her to be a calming presence in his life. She would often sit with him in the library while he researched materials for forging, offering quiet company without the need for excessive conversation.

"You don't mind me sitting here, do you?" she had asked timidly one afternoon.

Edward had shrugged. "Not at all. It's nice having someone around who doesn't talk my ear off like Argus."

Rosa had giggled softly, and Edward realized she wasn't as timid as she seemed.

Then there was David Foster, a textbook example of a "rich young master" type. Blonde hair neatly styled, sharp emerald eyes, and a posture that screamed aristocracy. He was heir to the Foster Industries conglomerate, and his awakening had given him the spirit of Vincent van Gogh, a B-rank hero with exceptional magical artistry.

Edward's first interaction with David had been... tense, to say the least.

"Well, well," David had said during their first introduction, arms crossed. "I didn't expect to see the infamous 'forger' in my class."

Edward had rolled his eyes. "Nice to meet you too, Mr. 'born with a silver spoon.'"

David had scoffed. "You may think you're clever, but crafting heroes have their place... just not anywhere near the front lines."

Despite his pompous attitude, it didn't take long for Edward to realize that David wasn't all bad. Beneath the smug exterior, there was a genuine kindness—he just didn't like showing it. Over time, David started offering unsolicited advice about magic-infused weaponry, and while he acted like he was "too good" to be Edward's friend, he always seemed to linger around him.

"Look, if you need help with magical enhancements," David had muttered one day, looking away awkwardly, "I suppose I could... offer my expertise."

Edward smirked. "Thanks, David. I'll make sure to write that in my diary."

David scowled. "Idiot."

Over the course of the week, the four of them had formed a solid friendship—one that made Edward feel a little less like an outcast and a little more like he belonged.

Despite his initial doubts, Edward found himself feeling more at ease in Class B. Argus's endless enthusiasm, Rosa's quiet support, and even David's awkward kindness all helped him feel like he belonged.

Still, deep down, the mysteries of his dream gnawed at him. Every night, he found himself revisiting that golden city in his mind—Gilgamesh, the forgotten king, the gods who stood against him.

One afternoon, Anastasia found him sitting alone in the forge, absentmindedly hammering away at a new blade.

"You've been quiet lately," she said, watching him closely.

Edward sighed. "Just... thinking. There's something about my awakening that doesn't add up, Ana. I feel like there's more to Ahnavat than what the records show."

Anastasia crossed her arms. "Then find out. Investigate. If anyone can uncover a hidden truth, it's you."

Edward glanced at her and smiled. "You always have too much faith in me."

"I call it realism," she smirked.

Edward chuckled and turned his focus back to the blade in his hand. He still had a long way to go, but he was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, there was more to his power than he initially believed.

And if Gilgamesh had trusted him with his legacy... Edward was determined to live up to it.