Hello, everyone! It's been quite a while, hasn't it? This is a story I've been working on for a long time, so I really hope you enjoy it! I'll say now that the other main characters don't make an appearance until the final few chapters since I want this story to really focus on Helia's background.

Thank you so much for reading, and enjoy!

Helia sat outside the conference room, anxiously awaiting his interview. Honestly, he hadn't wanted to apply here at first, but now he was in the final stages of the application. If he'd come this far, why not complete it? His heart raced at the idea. If he made it through, he would be a third-generation Red Fountain student, just like his brother.

Rubbing his sweaty palms on his slacks, Helia looked around the waiting area. There were a dozen other boys in the room, some he recognized, but others he didn't. Each of them looked just as nervous, which in turn made Helia feel a little comforted.

At least they were all going through this stressful experience together.

The door to the conference room swung open, and a nicely dressed boy stepped out, shoulders slumped and looking dejected. He made his way over and sat next to Helia, raking a hand roughly through his brown hair.

"How did it go?" Helia asked him quietly, turning his head to look at the brunet.

His friend, Eric Porter, shrugged, taking in a deep breath. "It seemed as though it went well, but I don't know. Doctor Dossik didn't seem to like me."

Helia opened his mouth to reassure his best friend, but a woman's voice cut him off.

"Applicant number 208, please come with me to Conference Room 4C."

Helia stood, glancing at Eric. "Wish me luck."

The brunet grinned and pushed at his friend's back. "Dude, your grandfather is the headmaster. You'll be fine."

Ignoring him, Helia stepped inside the conference room.

It was supposed to be a big room, Helia could tell, but the room was partitioned into sections with false walls, making it seem much smaller than it was.

In the room, there was a long table where three men sat, shuffling through papers and whispering to one another. A lone chair sat facing them, and a recording camera stood in the corner with an unoccupied stool.

The woman who had fetched Helia coughed, making the three men look up as Helia had a seat in the chair facing the three heads of departments.

"This is Helia Zhao, applicant 208," she stated, looking at her clipboard.

As she moved to the stool beside the camera, the man in the middle, Helia's grandfather, stood.

"As much as I would love to stay, my friends, I must take my leave. I'll be back to interview 209." And with a nod of acknowledgement, Helia's grandfather left the room.

"So, Mr. Zhao," began the man sitting on the right side of the table. Helia recognized him to be the dragon training and fighting coach, Cordatorta. "We've analyzed your test results, and we must admit that we are impressed."

The other man, Dr. Dossik, who was the one in charge of teaching medical related classes, spoke up. "Your entrance essay was quite nearly flaw-free. You scored in the top tenth percentile on the academic exam, and the top one percent on the fighting exam. Your medical history is clean, as is your police record. However, we noticed something . . . peculiar."

Helia leaned forward, curious and anxious. "What do you mean?"

He meant to ask it nicely, but perhaps it came out a bit defensive. He had absolutely no idea what they were talking about and it concerned him greatly. Had he done something wrong? Had he filed something incorrectly? Had he made an inexcusable error somehow during one of those tests or the paper?

"Well," Cordatorta began, giving him a small glare before looking at the paper he held in his hands, "we know that you're a good lad. But you must understand our concerns when, looking through your background, we see no prior experience or even interest in fighting or becoming a specialist. You were in art club, poetry club, writing club, but not a martial arts club or an academic club. You weren't enrolled in any kind of formal martial arts training, and the only honors class you took was Honors Art Appreciation." He looked Helia in the eye. "We know your family, but we are concerned about cheating and the use of . . . enhancers in this school. We will not tolerate it."

Helia sat back, realizing exactly what was going on before Cordatorta even finished his sentence. "I apologize for making you come to that conclusion, sir. But if I may explain?" Cordatorta nodded, as did Dossik.

Taking a deep breath, Helia looked between the two. "I was taught martial arts by my brother and father. I know my file says 'self-taught,' but I was taught by my family members, so I was unaware of what to put until it was too late. My father had multiple black belts and even more advancements in those belts. He did not trust anyone else to be my teacher. So, he taught my older brother all that he could, and then once I was eight, they began to teach me."

Cordatorta nodded, but the other man looked doubtful.

"Your father died when you were twelve, yes?" he asked, consulting a stack of papers in front of him.

Taken aback, Helia could only nod in surprise. What did that have to do with this?

"Then how was it possible for him to teach you that much in only four years?"

"My brother is ten years older than me, so he continued my father's teachings." Helia tried to keep his tongue in check, but he feared he was coming off harsh and defensive.

"Your brother is also a Red Fountain graduate," the doctor pressed. "Did he slip you an old entrance exam, perhaps?"

Helia was growing more and more offended, but he dared not show it. How dare he accuse not only him, but also his brother, of cheating? "No, sir. My brother's only advice was to do my best, so that is what I did, sir."

The man didn't seem satisfied, but he nodded nonetheless.

"We will mail you our response within two weeks," Cordatorta intervened, quickly and effectively ending the interview. "Thank you, Mr. Zhao."

Helia stood, shook hands with the two men, and exited the conference room. He felt relieved, angry, and offended, but he wasn't sure which to focus on.

Two weeks later, Helia sat on his living room couch, reading a novel. He was so engrossed in the story that he didn't hear his older brother come into their small house. He did notice, however, the thick envelope that was tossed onto his lap.

Setting aside the book, Helia picked up the envelope, flipping it over to see it was from Red Fountain. He stared at it, slightly surprised and unsure of what to do.

"Well open it, dumbass," his brother called, coming to stand behind the couch to look over Helia's shoulder.

Helia tore open the mail. Inside, there were several pieces of paper, but Helia unfolded the one on top.

Mr. Helia Zhao of Linphea:

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Red Fountain! We hold our students to a very high standard and believe you meet them. Enclosed is a list of items you will need for move in, as well as a list of things to expect.

The letter went on about what was expected of a Red Fountain student, but he paid it no mind.

"I got in," Helia said, disbelief lacing his voice. "I thought for sure the other professors wouldn't approve of me because of everything they said, but . . ."

Alexandros ruffled his younger brother's hair. "Aw, who cares, man? You got in! Dad would be so proud!"

Helia turned, looking at his brother. "Thank you. You've helped me a lot." He stood quickly and rounded the couch to hug his older brother. "Thank you so much," he mumbled, squeezing hard before letting go.

A sudden, frantic knocking came from the front door. Helia and his brother went to answer, and neither were surprised when they found Eric Porter on the doorstep.

"Dude, I got in!" Eric exclaimed, holding up his letter as evidence. He looked excitedly from his letter to his best friend, his curly, brown hair flopping over his eyebrows.

Helia grinned broadly. "Me, too!"