Awakening Kryptonian Bloodline In Marvel.-Chapter 397 - 397: 397: Departure

After a brief pause, Shafika unfolded and read the rest of the note.
Inside the small bag strapped to the Nightmare's saddle, she found Stark Industries' newest communication device — a thumb-sized crystalline square gifted by the Academy. Alongside it was a set of mage robes already tailored for her.
The note explained the tuition requirement: tens of thousands of U.S. dollars per year. But it reassured her family that they need not worry immediately.
Tuition would only be collected at the end of the academic year. In the meantime, students could work part-time for the Academy — for instance, by helping Jennifer refine magical potions — and easily save around twenty thousand dollars annually.
Even more generous was the scholarship: the Academy Excellence Scholarship awarded a one-time hundred-thousand-dollar grant, while the Dean's Scholarship started at one million dollars.
What sounded like a steep fee was in fact a kind of incentive mechanism: if a student failed to apply themselves or avoided practical training, they would pay a penalty, but diligent students could earn significantly more than they spent.
Her family's emotions tumbled. The idea of tuition in such amounts was terrifying, but the benefits overshadowed the cost.
Mr. Mazari lifted Shafika, now dressed in her mage robes, clumsily but proudly onto the Nightmare's back. He looked at the communicator device in her hand, remembering that a similar crystal went for tens of thousands of dollars on the open market.
"Father, I will study hard," she promised softly, looking back at him. "When I come home for the holidays, I'll help our family get a real house."
Mr. Mazari's chest tightened. His little girl had suddenly become the family's hope.
They stood in the doorway with the Nightmare, exchanging farewells. The creature exhaled a warm breath, as though waiting patiently for them to finish.
Mr. and Mrs. Mazari leaned forward, gently kissing Shafika on the forehead.
"Write to us often," her mother said.
Her sister, holding Shafika's arm, said shyly, "When you come back, tell me everything about the Academy."
Shafika nodded. She whispered, "Goodbye," then the Nightmare spread its wings and rose into the air.
From above, Shafika watched her home shrink into a tiny dot, then disappear altogether. Through tears, she waved, feeling both fear and excitement.
The world beneath her seemed smaller now — but her future felt vast.
Moments later, the crystal communicator in her hand began to beep softly.
A holographic call screen projected in front of her, and when she accepted, a gentle, kind voice spoke: "Hello, Miss Mazari. I am Jarvis, the Academy principal's secretary. Please confirm one last time that you accept the terms of enrollment."
She and her father had reviewed the agreement already. Only one clause stood out: post-graduation, the Academy could restrict a graduate's use of magic if they disobeyed its rules.
Moreover, if a graduate misused magic to harm or destroy in the mundane world, the Academy could hold them fully accountable — even to the extent of expelling them to a dangerous dimension.
"I confirm," Shafika answered firmly.
As soon as she spoke, she felt something shift — a faint vision of parchment transforming into glowing specks, and shadowy, powerful figures watching over her.
Much later, when she understood more about magic, she realized: she had signed that agreement under the gaze of the Vishanti.
"Congratulations, Miss Mazari," Jarvis said warmly. "Welcome to the Supreme Mage Academy. I wish you a happy and fulfilling journey."
Then the call ended.
Shafika pressed her cheek against the Nightmare's skin, wondering where Kamar-Taj was.
In front of them, golden sparks fluttered and coalesced into a swirling portal. Through it, she saw an ancient complex of temple-style buildings, their weathered bricks and ornate tiles betraying a long, storied history.
The Nightmare leaned forward and charged through the portal.
Shafika gasped, "This is the Mystic Art of Portals? We can actually use it in real life?"
Yes — she understood finally: this magic wasn't just part of a game. It came from the Academy itself.
No wonder she had earned her invitation so quickly.
Her heart excited, she wondered whether, as she grew stronger, she might be able to help her friend in Black Myth retrieve powerful relics.
Right now, she and her ally were stuck confronting a massive black bear guarding a mystical root — but she had just learned a new spell: Setorak's Crimson Bands.
The Nightmare soared over the temple rooftops, then gently landed on an open training ground.
Hundreds of creatures like it stood together, quiet and imposing — like a solemn gathering of death's messengers.
On the opposite side stood the new students, each wearing the Academy's robes.
Shafika slid off her mount, feeling suddenly small.
She looked around at strangers: children and elders, with hair colors she had only read about, eyes of blue, green, purple.
For the first time, she felt that she truly belonged to something larger than her home.
A cheerful voice broke the silence. "Hey, you're a new student too, right? You look like you're from the Middle East."
Shafika turned to see a blonde, blue-eyed girl smiling brightly, offering her hand.
"I'm Sherry Birkin. I just joined, too. If you ever need help, just find me."
Sherry puffed out her chest in mock pride. "Some people call me the Kingpin of the school, but I think I'd rather be Supergirl."
Shafika's cheeks warmed. "Uh, I don't quite understand…" She swallowed. "My English isn't very good. What if classes are in English?"
"Don't worry," Sherry said kindly.
She tapped Shafika's crystal communicator and activated a translation mode. Immediately, her words were translated into Pashto — Shafika's native tongue — in the original voice tone.
"How incredible," Shafika whispered. "I'm Shafika Mazari. But—who is this Kingpin you were talking about?"
Sherry lowered her voice and said, almost conspiratorially, "Kingpin is a very bad guy."
Shafika's eyes widened. "Are you… bad too?"
"Of course not," Sherry said, shaking her head. "That's why I prefer being Supergirl."
Shafika studied her new friend. She seemed warm, confident, and genuine — exactly the kind of person she hoped to trust.
Sherry leaned in. "Do you want to know what's going on next?"
Shafika nodded eagerly.
Sherry pointed across the field. "We're waiting for the Vice Principal to bring us in for the opening ceremony. By the way, you're the very last student to arrive."
Shafika blinked at her. "Last?"
Sherry grinned. "There are 345 of us — and you're number 345."
Suddenly, a loud, stern voice rang out. "Everyone, gather around!"
Sherry turned around.
Behind her stood a stout, serious man — the Vice Principal, Master Wong.
He raised his voice using a spell. "Come forward now, everyone. Follow me, please."
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