The next morning, all first-year students were taken to an open stone arena.
It was large, round, and surrounded by tall stands where teachers and upper-class students sat and watched.
This was the Entrance Trial—a test to see how strong each new student was.
One by one, students stepped into the center and showed their magic.
Some created huge fireballs. Others summoned beasts made of lightning or wind.
A girl even made a tree grow in seconds and bloom with golden flowers.
The crowd clapped and cheered. The nobles smiled proudly, confident in their power.
Then it was Leon's turn.
He stepped into the circle. The stone floor was cold under his feet. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
"Focus," he told himself. "Find your magic. Just like they taught in the scrolls…"
But nothing happened.
He raised his hand again, trying harder. Still nothing.
The crowd began to laugh.
"He has no magic!""He's a fake!""What did you expect from a peasant?"
Leon's fists tightened, but he didn't back down.
Suddenly, a voice called out from the crowd.
"I challenge him to a duel!" shouted a noble boy with golden hair and a long red cape.
It was Darian Velthorn, heir to the powerful Velthorn family.
The teachers whispered among themselves but then nodded. "Very well.
The duel is approved."
Leon turned to face Darian, who smirked confidently.
"You shouldn't be here," Darian said. "Let me show you why."
The match began.
Darian started fast. A flame burst from his hand and flew toward Leon.
Leon jumped aside just in time, but the edge of the fire caught his arm.
He gritted his teeth as the pain burned through his skin.
Before he could recover, another spell came—this one faster and stronger.
Leon rolled across the floor, his cloak catching fire at the edges. He slapped it out and stood up again.
He was hurt. Tired. But still standing.
Darian looked annoyed. "Why don't you just stay down?"
Leon didn't answer. He remembered the faces of his family.
His village. He remembered the pain, the hunger, and the reason he came here.
"I have no noble name. No magic," he thought."But I still have me."
As Darian came close, ready to end it, Leon moved. Fast.
He ducked under the noble's swing and punched him hard in the stomach.
Darian's eyes went wide. He staggered back, coughing.
Gasps filled the arena.
"No way…"
"A commoner landed a hit?"
The duel was stopped by a teacher.
"Enough!" she shouted. "Both of you, back."
Leon fell to one knee, breathing hard. His body was shaking.
His arm was burned. But he had done it. He had shown them he wasn't weak.
That night, as he lay in the small infirmary bed, bandages on his arm, he stared at the ceiling and whispered,
"This is just the beginning."
Far above the arena, in a tower made of glass, a girl in silver robes watched him from the shadows. But Leon didn't know that yet.
His battle had only begun.