Chapter 1:Lowest of the low

The sound of wood cracking against flesh echoed through the training yard. Velric Thorne staggered back, clutching his ribs as his opponent, a taller Lapinite boy named Joan Greymane, smirked down at him. Around them, students from Burrowhold Academy the only institution in Wildcrest that accepted Lapinites snickered and whispered.

"Pathetic, Thorne," Joan scoffed, twirling his training staff. "You're not just weak you don’t even try."

Velric spat to the side, tasting blood. He wasn’t even mad. He was used to this.

He was the lowest of the low.

In Burrowhold Academy, a place meant to train young Lapinites to survive in a world ruled by stronger, nobler beastfolk, Velric held a special title: the weakest student in the academy’s history.

His grades? Awful.

His combat ability? Nonexistent.

His agility? Below average an embarrassment for a rabbit.

His family name? Worthless.

Even among the Lapinites, who were already considered the bottom of society, Velric was trash. And everyone made sure he knew it.

"That's enough," the instructor, Master Garrick, finally said, sounding bored. The grizzled old rabbit folded his arms and looked down at Velric with disappointment. "You're not even worth punishing anymore, Thorne. You’re just a lost cause."

Laughter rippled through the crowd. Velric sat up, rubbing his sore ribs, but he didn’t argue. There was no point. He had stopped trying to prove himself a long time ago.

Because in this world, bloodline was everything.

The elite Lapinites at Burrowhold Academy all came from strong warrior families ones with secret techniques passed down through generations. Even though Lapinites were weak compared to the other beastfolk, some of them could still carve a name for themselves.

But Velric?

He had no bloodline powers. No secret technique. No powerful lineage.

And because of that, he was nothing.

"Alright, enough standing around! Next group up!" Master Garrick barked, and the crowd dispersed, eager to move on from yet another Velric Thorne failure.

Velric sighed, dusted himself off, and limped off to the side of the training yard. He glanced up at the academy towers, where the Burrowhold Crest a silver rabbit on a broken shield hung above the entrance.

A broken shield. That about summed it up, didn't it?

He wondered, not for the first time, why he was still here.

Later That Evening

Velric sat alone in the mess hall, pushing his gruel around his plate while the other students laughed and ate together in their little cliques. Nobody wanted to sit with him, and he didn’t blame them. Who would want to associate with the weakest rabbit in the school?

"Hey, deadweight," a voice sneered behind him.

Velric didn't even look up. He already knew who it was.

Rorrin Briar, the top student at Burrowhold. Fast, strong, and the closest thing Lapinites had to a true warrior. He and his friends towered over Velric, sneering down at him.

"You know, I heard Master Garrick talking earlier," Rorrin said, smirking. "He said the only reason they haven’t expelled you is because they pity you. But honestly, I think you'd be doing us all a favor if you just disappeared."

Velric didn’t react. He just kept stirring his food.

He was too tired for this.

Rorrin scoffed, then knocked the plate out of Velric's hands. "Oops." His friends laughed. "Clean that up, trash."

Velric clenched his fists under the table. He wanted to fight back. But what was the point?

He wasn’t strong.

He wasn’t fast.

He wasn’t anything.

The other students turned away, not bothering to intervene. That was how things worked in Burrowhold Academy. If you were weak, you were nothing.

Rorrin leaned in close. "Face it, Thorne. Some rabbits are just meant to be prey."

With that, he and his friends walked away, laughing.

Velric stared down at the mess on the floor. His hands shook, but not from fear. From something deeper.

Something he didn’t understand.

Something angry.

For years, he had accepted this. For years, he had told himself that this was just how things were.

But tonight, as he sat in the filth, as the laughter of stronger bloodlines echoed around him, a thought crept into his mind.

'What if they were wrong?'

To be Continued

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