The Academy sat atop the cliffs of northern Kyoden, its towers carved from shimmering black stone that reflected light like glass. Massive mana conduits pulsed faintly along its walls, rivers of magic that ran beneath the city like veins under skin.
Akira had never seen it up close.
Now, standing at the gates with hundreds of other applicants, he felt like a fraud.
Around him, teens his age warmed up with glowing hands, floating swords, conjured shields, or beasts made from light and smoke. Most wore confident grins. Some smirked at others. A few stared at Akira with amusement.
He was the only one here with no aura at all.
And the sword on his back Shikoku was completely silent.
Since leaving Genma's forest, it hadn't made a sound. No whispers. No pulses. Just weight. Heavy, cold, dead.
Why did you choose me? Akira wondered.
But the blade gave no answer.
"ALL CANDIDATES," a voice boomed through the gates, "STEP FORWARD. EXAM BEGINS NOW."
Akira stepped in with the crowd.
They were ushered through massive gates into a large stone coliseum inside the Academy's outer grounds. Stands surrounded them empty, except for the shadowed upper balcony, where a handful of figures stood watching.
The Squad Captains.
Akira could feel their eyes like pressure on his skin.
"That one's Tomoe," someone whispered beside him, pointing at the balcony. "Squad 6's Captain. A Gravity magic user. She once crushed a mana golem just by blinking."
"No way," another muttered. "Is that the President? Squad 1's Captain Kenji?"
Akira looked up but couldn't make out faces. Only silhouettes.
"All participants will begin with the basic mana resistance test," the instructor barked from the arena floor. "You will be placed inside a binding field. Those without the ability to endure magical force will be eliminated."
Akira's blood turned to ice.
The candidates were led one by one into shimmering magic domes, where instructors bombarded them with waves of focused mana. Those who held their ground passed. Some fainted and were carried away. Others crumpled in seconds.
Akira stood in line, heart pounding.
When his name was called, he stepped forward slowly.
The instructors watched closely. One of them, a stern woman with gloves glowing at the palms, gave him a look.
"No visible aura. Are you sure you're not just here to watch?"
Akira didn't respond. He stepped into the dome.
The moment it activated, the pressure hit him like a waterfall.
His knees buckled. His chest compressed. It felt like the air itself had turned to stone and was trying to crush him.
From the upper balcony, Captain Tomoe tilted her head slightly. "Interesting."
Below, Akira grit his teeth and forced himself to stay upright.
His vision blurred. His lungs screamed.
Shikoku, he thought. If you're going to help me... now would be the time.
Silence.
The blade stayed cold against his back.
The instructor raised her hand to increase the pressure.
Akira's knees hit the stone floor.
Then—CRACK.
A shadow exploded across the floor around him jagged like broken glass. The dome's walls trembled. The magical force rebounded as if it hit something... ancient.
A faint hum echoed in the space. Not loud. Barely there.
But enough.
The dome shattered.
Akira collapsed on all fours, coughing, dizzy but alive.
The crowd was silent.
The instructor looked stunned.
From above, Tomoe smirked. "He didn't block the force. Something absorbed it."
"An artifact?" Kenji asked.
"Or a curse," she replied.
Later, they were moved into smaller groups. The next trial began in the southern grounds: a team-based simulation. Each group had to locate a hidden sigil within a conjured dungeon filled with traps and mana beasts. Only two sigils would be placed while six teams entered.
Not all would pass.
Akira's team didn't look pleased when they saw him.
"What's your magic?" one of them asked.
"I don't have any."
"Great," another groaned. "We got a deadweight."
He didn't argue.
Inside the dungeon, everything was dim, flickering with false torches. Stone shifted behind the walls like it was breathing. Mana creatures translucent, fast, and violent began to stalk them.
Two of Akira's teammates fell early, overwhelmed by shadow beasts. He fought back with what Genma taught him: fists, feet and instinct. But against creatures made of pure energy, it was like punching wind.
Shikoku... please...
Still nothing.
It wasn't until he was cornered cut off from the team, a creature lunging for his throat that the sword moved.
No glow. No dramatic flare.
Just—steel.
Shikoku unsheathed itself, sliding into his palm like a breath.
And time... bent.
The creature lunged.
Akira moved.
One clean cut. Silent. Instant.
The beast dissolved.
His chest heaved. Not from fear. From something else. A rush.
But just as fast as it had awakened, the blade went quiet again. As if it hadn't done anything at all.
Akira stared at it. "You only come out... when I'm about to die?"
He felt the faintest whisper in response.
"Closer."
His group didn't win the sigil.
But before he left the field, a Corps officer approached him and handed him a separate envelope dark green, sealed in gold.
"Captain Tomoe of Squad 6 would like to speak with you."
Akira blinked. "Wait—what?"
"She's extending a provisional recruitment."
The officer turned and walked away.
Akira stood alone in the dungeon corridor, sword silent on his back.
He hadn't passed the exam.
But somehow...
He'd still been chosen.