The sun had risen higher into the sky, its rays slanting through the spires of the Kingdom of Alberto. It was now late morning, the sky painted with golden streaks and the air brimming with anxious energy. Inside the vast courtyard of the Spirit Hall, thousands had gathered—nobles in shimmering robes, commoners in simpler garbs, parents holding onto hope, and children trembling at the edge of their destinies.
And then, without warning, it happened.
A sudden gust of wind swirled through the hall, carrying with it particles of glimmering light. The great Spirit Gate, a towering arc of ancient rune-etched stone, trembled. Slowly, it began to glow, pulsing with waves of ethereal energy. A sharp hum filled the air.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"It's opening..." someone whispered.
With a thunderous crack that silenced every breath, the Spirit Gate opened.
A swirling vortex of magic spiraled within, revealing a cosmic plane shimmering beyond—a space between dimensions, where spirits of unimaginable power dwelled. The very air became charged, vibrating with tension. Children instinctively reached for each other. Eyes widened. Hearts pounded.
Then came the thundering steps of armored boots.
Captain Morvio, a Grand Magic Knight, stepped forward. Unlike the Senior Magic Knights who stood behind him, Morvio exuded an overwhelming presence—his aura burned like molten steel. His cape flared as he moved to stand just beneath the Spirit Gate.
He raised a hand, commanding silence.
"All children," he announced, his voice cutting through the thick silence like a blade, "will come forward one by one and stand beneath the Spirit Gate. Each child will remain there for two minutes. If a spirit chooses you, it will appear within that time. If not... you are unchosen."
A shiver of dread ran through the children.
Captain Morvio continued, "Spirits come in five levels—Standard, Epic, Legendary, Ultimate... and the rarest of all, Professional."
The mention of Professional drew gasps. Even the elders exchanged glances. Those were spirits beyond comprehension—unpredictable, dangerously powerful.
Morvio's tone grew firm. "We will begin... with the Nobles."
A boy clad in fine robes stepped forward. He walked confidently, chin high, his parents watching from the royal balcony with pride. He stood beneath the Gate. Time passed. Then—a brilliant white light appeared above him. The light condensed into a glowing spirit, shaped like a winged lion, its eyes radiant.
It descended gracefully, landing on the boy's shoulder before disappearing in a blink—then reappearing just as suddenly, spiraling around him.
Awe filled the hall.
Captain Morvio gave a sharp nod. "Good. You have received a Legendary Spirit with the Light Attribute."
Cheers erupted from the nobles. Other noble children came forward—one by one. Some gained spirits: blazing hawks, golden serpents, icy wisps. Some stood for two minutes, eyes pleading... and left empty-handed.
No Ultimate. No Professional.
Then came the commoners' turn.
Tension doubled. The divide between hope and despair felt sharper here. Each step toward the Gate felt like marching toward judgment. One boy, trembling, stood under the Gate and wept quietly when no spirit came. A girl screamed joyfully when an Epic spirit—fiery and small—chose her. But most left empty.
Only a few gained spirits. Desperation grew.
Among those still waiting stood Kiro—his fists clenched, face focused. When his name was called, he stepped forward with calm defiance.
He stood beneath the Gate. One second. Two.
Then it happened.
Crack!
The air exploded with electric light. A spirit wrapped in blue lightning, shaped like a phoenix, descended from above. It let out a piercing cry, spiraling toward Kiro.
It sat on his shoulder.
As the spirit sit, there asurge of power coursed through Kiro's body—his hair sparked, his skin glowed with energy. The lightning spirit had become one with him.
Captain Morvio smiled for the first time.
"Ultimate Spirit. Lightning Attribute."
The hall was stunned.
Before the silence could settle, Ayana was called.
She walked forward, serenity in every step. Under the Gate, a soft glow emerged—gentle green and white. A spirit resembling a flowered fae descended, hovering before her, wings beating in rhythm with her heartbeat.
The spirit sit her hand then a healing pulse rushed fro AYANA hand toward a wounded cat sit there .. in one second, the wound disappear..
Captain Morvio call
"Ultimate Spirit. Healing Attribute."
Hope rekindled in the commoners' section.
Then came the call.
"Next... Sam Robbin."
Sam's father leaned forward from the stands. The boy took a shaky breath and walked forward. Every step felt heavier than the last. His legs didn't want to move, but his will pulled him beneath the Gate.
He stood.
Ten seconds.
Thirty.
A full minute passed.
Murmurs began.
"Nothing's coming..."
"Maybe he's just like his father—once great, now forgotten."
"Maybe he's not worthy..."
Sam's heart beat louder in his chest. He clenched his fists.
And then—
The wind changed.
A strange chill swept the hall. A spirit began to descend—not with glory, but with lazy spirals. Its glow was a mix of purple and blue, soft but entrancing. Unlike the others, it didn't land on Sam's shoulder.
It floated to his face.
It gently held Sam's cheeks.
Its voice rang out, surprisingly childish and sleepy.
"I'm going to choose you," it whispered. "I hope you won't bother me during sleep. I love sleep... a lot."
Then—
It merged into Sam.
A wave of energy surged. One of Sam's eyes turned glowing purple-blue, and before he could understand anything, he muttered:
"I love to sleep..."
The hall burst into laughter.
Mockery rained down.
"A sleepy spirit?"
"What even is that? A nap-spirit?"
"Maybe he got a Standard Sloth Spirit!"
But then Captain Morvio raised a hand. The laughter died instantly.
His face was serious.
He took a slow breath. "This... is a Professional Spirit."
Gasps. Even the nobles stood in disbelief.
Morvio continued, voice firm. "One of the Ten Professional Spirits in existence. This spirit holds Dynamic Merging and Unlimited Attributes."
Silence.
Then came a booming voice from the back.
"My son... YOU DID IT!"
It was Sam's father. Tears welled in his eyes.
Captain Morvio turned to Sam. "So, you are the son of Robbin Carlo..."
Sam nodded.
The captain stepped forward, solemn. "Listen carefully. These Professional Spirits are not like others. They are alive in every way. They are stubborn... willful. If you attempt to use them against their will—they may even kill you."
Shock struck the crowd again.
He added, "They are powerful, but not loyal by nature. You must earn their trust. Control them... or they will control you."
Whispers swept through the nobles and knights.
Captain Morvio continued, "Sam Robbin, you are now among the Seven who have been chosen by a Professional Spirit. The King himself... was the sixth. The other five? They are no longer alive."
A chill blanketed the crowd.
And then, the final few children went through the ceremony. Some received spirits—standard or epic. Others left with silent tears.
As the Spirit Gate slowly closed, a golden scroll materialized above the hall—engraved with this year's results:
---
Professional Spirits: 1
Ultimate Spirits: 6
Legendary Spirits: 12
Epic Spirits: 22
Standard Spirits: 42
The rest would try again next year.
But one thing was clear.
Sam Robbin was no longer a shadow in the crowd.
He was now a name the entire Kingdom of Alberto would remember.
And perhaps... fear.