Two days later.
The sun had not yet fully climbed the sky, but the city of Alberto was already buzzing. The cobbled streets echoed with footsteps, whispers, and excited chatter. The entire kingdom was awake, its heart beating with anticipation—for today was The Blessed Day.
The day when Spirits descend. The day when Magic Knights are born.
Across the kingdom, families had gathered, citizens lined the streets, and bells tolled in slow, rhythmic celebration. Flags of the Magic Order fluttered high from balconies, while flowers rained from rooftops. From merchants to royals, all eyes were drawn toward the Spirit Hall—a vast, ancient structure carved of white ethereal stone, standing like a cathedral of light.
Its tower stretched so high, it seemed to pierce the very clouds. Legends whispered that the spirits watching from the heavens could see their chosen Vessels from that towering tip.
Sam Robbin stood at the base of it, surrounded by other children who, like him, had just turned fifteen.
His heart thumped like a drum inside his chest.
Beside him stood his friends—Kiro, who had a wide grin on his face to mask his nerves, and Ayana, her hands clasped tightly, eyes glowing with both fear and fascination. Her hair fluttered in the gentle breeze as she looked up toward the tower.
SAM: (low voice) "It's real... it's actually happening."
KIRO: (laughing nervously) "Yeah. Can't believe we're finally here. I barely slept last night. What if my spirit's a... frog?"
AYANA: (gently elbowing him) "Don't even joke about that, Kiro."
Around them, the other children murmured quietly, their faces painted with the same mix of hope and tension. Some wore ceremonial robes from their villages. Others, like the nobles' children, stood separately, clothed in silks and gold-lined uniforms. Their small group held a quiet pride, guarded by their parents and personal guards.
An invisible wall of status.
But here, in this Hall, even the rich had to wait for the will of the Spirits.
Inside, the Spirit Hall was unlike anything Sam had imagined. The inner chamber was colossal. White pillars etched with ancient runes rose into the sky. Soft blue orbs floated mid-air, casting light across marble floors. High above, a circular opening led to the heavens—the Spirit Gate, said to only open once a year.
Every echo, every breath, seemed to vibrate with magic.
Hundreds of seats ringed the platform in rising circles—filled with Senior Magic Knights, veterans of past wars, and Magic Knights in gleaming armor. They had come from across Alberto to witness the new generation.
Even though the ceremony wouldn't begin for another two hours, nearly every seat was already filled.
Children paced quietly in the center circle. A few sat with heads bowed. Others whispered prayers. The tension was so thick it felt like breathing through water.
Sam glanced around and caught a glimpse of the Royal Section. Cushioned chairs, carved from phoenixwood, lined with velvet, guarded by elite soldiers in silver armor.
And then—
The lights across the Hall shifted. A faint shimmer, like ripples across the sky. The floating orbs turned golden, and a sudden hush fell.
All eyes turned to the grand archway.
With a slow, majestic pace, the King of Alberto, Rowen, entered.
He wore a long, regal coat with sapphire and emerald embroidery. His crown shimmered like starlight. Beside him were nobles, advisors, and members of the High Circle. His expression was calm, yet noble—a man shaped by wars, by victories, by duty.
The moment he entered, everyone stood.
SAM, KIRO, AYANA: (softly and together) "Long live the King."
The hall echoed with bows and unified chants:
"Long live King Rowen!"
Even the nobles' children, proud and composed, stood with heads lowered in respect.
The King gave a slight nod and slowly moved to the center throne placed at the far end, where the ceremony would be presided.
No one spoke. The silence was reverent.
Sam's eyes, wide with awe, stayed locked on the throne. His heart burned with a strange combination of nervousness and excitement.
He looked to his father's seat far up in the stands—Robbin Carlo, the retired Magic Knight. His father gave him a proud, knowing nod.
Sam clenched his fist. This was his moment.
He could already feel something in the air. Something was watching. Something was coming.
But not yet.
The Gate above remained closed. The Spirits still waited in the heavens.
And so, the hall waited too—with bated breath, and wild hearts.