A dozen minutes had passed.
After speaking with the eccentric man called C04, Oren left the bedroom and parted ways with him.
What a bizarre man… Oren thought.
In the short moments before he left, C04 had asked him a favour, but to Oren it seemed to be a wish.
"Do not fail, for I hope to see you in the future, Oren Xianrath."
Those were C04's words.
But Oren failed to discern what the favour was in that request. Was C04… cheering me on? For what? School is not that hard… is it not?
If it was to cheer Oren on, it would most likely be from the city. Maybe further. Oren did not know.
But C04 had also mentioned wanting to go sightseeing, if he would see Oren after.
When he would see him again. Well, that was not the question. It was whether he ever would.
C04 was not an academy elder, nor a student. Oren would not see him roaming the academy grounds like a teacher.
He had said that the academy would take care of Oren upon becoming a candidate, as it did other students.
Those who survived its assessments, at least.
Oren looked at the dark oak windowsill beside him. It stretched high along the hallway wall.
Sun rays poured through the clear glass.
The radiance of the crimson sun made the surrounding scenery more vivid than it actually was.
Oren stepped to the side and peered over the windowsill.
His gaze met a polished marble fountain. He saw tiger-striped fish and orange-white striped fish.
Their size was small compared to the leaping green frogs, yet they were not truly frogs or fish.
This was not his home, so it would not share the exact name or DNA of the dwelling creatures and animals he once knew.
Perhaps the animals and creatures in all places resembled each other in subtle ways.
Blooming flowers scattered behind the bars of the silver academy gate.
He noticed people walk past the academy behind the thick railing bars. Men and women. Families. Those who chose to distance themselves.
He paused for a moment, staring down the lively main street of vendors and stalls.
Beyond it lay the outskirts, a toppled sprawl of tattered apartments and abandoned houses.
There it was, the great wall.
Even from afar, Oren could see it clearly, it stood as tall as the largest apartments of the outskirts.
The border that severed the outskirts from the Unison city.
Oren's legs slowly began to ache from standing still, something that had never happened to him before.
He squinted in confusion, then shook his head, looking forward.
He was so close to the academy hall. In truth, it was right in front of him.
His thoughts and doubt made him second-guess entering the room. Am I even allowed in here? Should I even trust C04's words?
He would be ignorant to ignore what the man had said completely, but to trust anyone entirely was just as ignorant.
Before him, two giant doors sat quietly, unmoved, as though guarding the room.
They were painted dark brown, their frame embedded with runes he could not decipher.
Dismissing his thoughts, Oren stepped forward indifferently, then pressed his ear against the cold, oppressive door.
He heard a couple of voices behind the entrance doors.
They were welcoming, yet distantly proud. Mere murmurs. Still, it felt as though he was being lured.
He withdrew his head from the door, preparing for any deceit and the inevitable questions of his origins.
Though Oren would have liked to wander the residence a bit more, or simply admire the scenery from inside, there was no need.
He had seen enough for now.
Oren extended his arm and gripped the doorknob.
He twisted it, then pulled.
The sturdy oak frame trembled as he opened the ancient wood. He glanced behind him as he entered the hall.
…
The scent of incense clung to the air, heavy and unmoving.
Upon entering the room, the crimson sun rays were gone.
Oren was not met with questions or lies, not even words of persuasion.
Instead, Oren was met with the sight of men and women, their stares palpable.
It felt as though entering the assembly late was not only looked down on, but taboo.
"Who is that?"
A young girl of about eighteen asked politely, though her words seemed to give the other candidates licence to shout.
"What? Late? How could someone dishonour the entrance assembly? The humble elders have granted as a chance and you dare ruin it!"
A young man shouted.
Everyone was seated in rigid lines of chairs, perfectly still beneath the towering wall of paintings.
"A cathedral in a school?" Oren chuckled, then instantly went quiet beneath the gazes.
He was not shy or scared. Despite that, warmth gathered beneath his collar as the doors shut behind him.
The cathedral's shadow swallowed him whole as he went to find a seat.
His careful gaze swept across the vast room at once.
At the room's centre stood a man who preached proudly, undeterred by the murmurs of the candidates.
His features were aged yet strangely youthful. An unwrinkled face. A freshly cut beard.
His jet-black hair was streaked with grey, and rugged blue eyes held a past.
The whispers gradually grew as Oren remained standing. Finding a seat seemed arduous.
The room was filled with two hundred or so students. If I really am the last one, he thought, how long will it take to find a seat?
The darkness of the room did not help either.
Only a few chandeliers hung lit.
The rest had seemingly been blown out, whether by miscreant students or the teachers themselves.
"I would never be late. How daring."
Another candidate stated proudly as he moved through the rows of students, accidentally stepping on candidates' feet and sometimes kicking their chairs.
He could count on one hand the number of times he nearly fell over.
"The young man is quite handsome. Still, he lacks proper organisation and preparation."
The voices suddenly broke out as Oren froze, searching for a place to sit among the first row of candidates.
"Is this candidate even from one of our families or clans? What is his name? I have never seen him before."
A man seemingly older than the other candidates stated. Unlike the others, he looked to be in his twenties.
"Maybe he's from your lowly Xen clan, old man Renu-Xen."
The young woman's shout was the final one heard by all, making every candidate glance at Oren's shifting silhouette.
Despite the small ruckus he had created, despite the attention he drew, Oren remained composed.
It could be much worse… couldn't it?
Oren eventually found a seat at the back of a row, closer to the entrance than the elder at the front of the room.
His seat was numbered. Candidate Fourteen.
Glancing at the other students, Oren realised that this seat would determine his candidate number.
The people here were identified by number, not name, in an assembly like this.
As Oren sat down, the man the students called Elder Idris straightened his posture, his gaze fixing on Oren.
He spoke shortly after, his stern voice dominating the whispers of the candidates.
"Silence."
His voice cut cleanly through the hall, and the murmurs died at once.
He offered Oren a brief, knowing smile before continuing.
"I will resume the lecture. We are short on time, so find someone who can update you on what we covered earlier."
Around Oren, the candidates straightened in their seats, eyes frozen forward as if carved from stone.
A faint rustle of robes swept through the hall.
The marked, unevenly planned floor trembled under the open window breeze.
Strangely, it was the only unrefurbished place in the building.
As the professor continued, Oren heard another voice. Not the elder's, but a strangely shy one, yet proud enough not to be weak.
"Hello, are you the candidate who is late? I am Sable, Candidate Fifteen. It is a pleasure to meet you."
The young man beside him said politely.
Sable had dirty-blonde hair. Though slightly overgrown, it looked neat and carefully kept.
Oren looked into his bright blue eyes.
They were blurry, yet filled with honesty, shimmering as light passed through a pane of glass across the room.
Oren let out a deep breath.
"My name is Oren. It is a pleasure to meet you too."
The whispers and gazes Oren attracted did not seem to bother Sable. Instead, the young man ignored them and smiled, failing to notice Oren's own.
Sable repeated Oren's name tentatively.
"Oren… what a pleasant name. So unique. Your mother and father must be very creative people."
"Yes… they were quite creative people."
The lie escaped Oren's mouth, slightly confused.
My name is nice?
No one had ever said that before. He still thought it was quite an odd name.
Sable paused, letting out an exhausted sigh.
"Are you sure that you are a new candidate?"
"What do you mean?" Oren asked, rubbing his eye.
Sable coughed awkwardly.
"Well, it is that… to me, you give off an otherworldly presence, just like the elders."
A flicker of bewilderment appeared on Oren's expressionless face.
A mortal finding his presence strange was to be expected. What surprised him, however, was that he himself knew something was wrong.
An unnamable shift in his entity.
He had felt that way ever since using the anchor and had noticed just as many signs.
His legs ached when he stood for too long.
He felt pain easily. When he rushed around the academy, he gradually ran out of breath.
And despite his previous title and origins, something had changed. Something that affected him deeply.
His eyes darkened as he pondered, unwilling to confront his suspicion.
Oren sighed, then whispered.
"I am sure of it… actually, I do not know what these candidates are, or what this assembly is about. Truthfully, I was brought here without knowing. And the gentleman who awoke me was just as clueless as I am."
Sable giggled despite Oren's serious expression, then froze abruptly beneath the professor's tongue click.
Acknowledging Sir Idris's wariness of speaking aloud, Sable whispered quieter than usual.
"Ah… it is alright. I am a little clueless myself, but I did catch a bit of what the professor explained."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice.
"Right now, we are in the assembly to be assessed. The actual examination is scheduled for two weeks from now. They call it the entrance trial."
So the trial is not today. Oren sighed, putting on a faint smile.
"Do you have any knowledge of what the trial itself is, or how to prepare for it?"
Sable hesitated, searching for the right words.
"I do not understand all of it, but the ritual is meant to determine whether we are accepted into the academy, and whether we are worthy of enlightenment, or so they say."
"Enlightenment?" Oren mumbled.
Enlightenment. Is this in religious terms? he questioned. It was not.
"That is what the professor said, at least. But something about it seems strange. He made it sound almost easy."
Sable's brows knit slightly.
How many more academies are there in these outskirts? Oren questioned himself.
If there were hundreds, thousands of academies, and each differed in trial, would that not mean there were countless ways for beings to become enlightened?
Oren noticed something about Sable, but chose not to ask.
Instead, Sable spoke again, glancing at the surrounding candidates, then Elder Idris.
"I think that is what the revered professor is telling us now."
But what the elder spoke of was not the trial itself. It was something far more relevant, and far more intriguing to Oren.
"Enlightenment. Does anyone know what enlightenment truly is, what it means to become enlightened?"
Oren, like the candidates, fell silent beneath the words, his eyes tracing every scar across Elder Idris's unnaturally immaculate face.
Each mark told a story. Pain measured and mastered, just like the room he stood in.
"It seems you are all yet to become wise," Elder Idris said, his voice the deepest Oren had ever heard.
"And so I will inform you of what it is to be enlightened. You youths have already seen those with the rank of Enlightened. Family. Kin. Clan. You have all noticed the benefits that come with becoming Enlightened. One is leaving the outskirts."
His words made the candidates' eyes widen.
That tiny glimpse of hope. Becoming Enlightened. A better, more prosperous life.
Everyone in the outskirts wished for such an opportunity.
After seeing the reactions of many students and thoroughly listening to the elder's words, Oren came to a conclusion.
This… this is not an ordinary school, is it?