WebNovels

Chapter 55 - The Weight of Dawn

Mist curled over the training grounds beyond the Sentry Spire, where hundreds of cadets gathered again, silent beneath the looming wall of gold.

Gareth stood apart from them for a moment, fastening the last clasp of his uniform. The fabric felt heavier today — not from weight, but from meaning.

Each line, each mark, every thread carried expectation.

He stared at his reflection in the darkened steel of a supply crate — a face too young for the wars it had already begun to fight.

"The things that make me different," he murmured, voice low, steady, "are the things that make me. And now I need to accept that I'm the Sun Pallbearer."

The words hung in the cold air — conviction tangled with doubt.

He closed his eyes.

"If only it were that easy. Accepting the mark, the Veil, the burden that came with both — none of it felt like destiny. It feels like punishment wrapped in purpose."

He had not earned this role. Not yet. But he would have to live it. To become it.

Because the world didn't wait for those who faltered. He straightened, breathing in the scent of dew and steel, and whispered again, this time with quiet resolve:

"The earth has never stopped moving, growing, evolving for anyone… and neither should I."

The wind caught the words, scattering them like ash into the morning light.

Then Gareth stepped forward — toward the gathering of cadets, toward the test that awaited, and toward the rising sun that refused to stop burning.

Gareth moved through the mist, the echoes of boots and murmurs thick in the air.

The cadets had gathered in rows before the armory tents, each line separated by banners of gold and black.

The nobles stood ahead, already half-armored — their gear gleaming with polished crests and engraved sigils.

The commoners waited in silence, their section quieter, eyes fixed forward.

A Sun Blade warrior walked among them, his steps measured, voice cutting through the haze.

"Step forward when your name is called. You will receive your standard issue — armor, weapon, identification seal. Do not speak unless spoken to."

One by one, names echoed across the clearing.

Cassiel received his first — a light set of gray-etched plate, flexible yet sharp-edged, fitted perfectly to his frame. He nodded once, barely looking at the officer.

Then —"Gareth Valven."

Gareth stepped forward. The officer eyed him briefly, as though weighing him against a list of doubts. Then he gestured toward a table where a set of armor rested apart from the others.

It wasn't gold. It wasn't silver. It was black — matte, veiled in faint lines of dusk-colored sigils.

The surface shimmered faintly with restrained energy, the kind that hummed against his palm as he reached out.

"Standard cadet armor," the officer said. "Modified for your… compatibility."

That hesitation in his voice didn't go unnoticed.

Gareth traced a finger along the chestplate's edge. The Veil reacted, a faint pulse of light rippling like breath through the dark metal. It felt alive, but subdued — as if waiting for him to prove himself first.

He fastened the armor piece by piece, the plates locking with muted clicks. It fit too well — like it remembered him.

Cassiel's voice came from behind, quiet but wry. "Looks heavy."

Gareth gave a small shrug. "It is. "He paused, then added under his breath, "But it feels right."

When he tightened the final strap, the air around him seemed to shift — the faint hum of his Veil merging with the armor's runes until both harmonized in low resonance.

The officer stepped back, studying the result. "Strange reaction," he muttered. "Almost… bonded."

Gareth didn't answer. He could feel it now — the armor wasn't rejecting him. It was recognizing him.

The black sigils glowed once, briefly, like dying stars reigniting.

The Sun Blades along the edge of the square turned slightly, their eyes narrowing — not in hostility, but in silent acknowledgment.

Arcten Solveil, standing at the far end of the grounds, noticed the flare. His expression didn't change, but his gaze lingered.

The air rippled faintly as a horn sounded from the wall — deep, ancient, a call that resonated through stone and marrow alike.

Arcten raised his hand, his voice carrying across the field.

"Armor yourselves. The first trial begins beyond the wall."

Silence followed — then movement.

Steel clinked. Veils stirred.

And Gareth, clad in black, stepped into formation beside Cassiel.

He didn't feel ready. He didn't feel chosen.

But for the first time since the mark burned onto his skin, he felt seen.

The sun broke over the horizon then — its light catching on his armor's dark surface like a reflection of twilight refusing to yield.

As the horn's echo faded, the cadets began to move toward the outer gate in orderly lines. Cassiel adjusted his gloves beside Gareth, scanning the crowd.

"They're really splitting us by rank again," he muttered.

"Nobles on the left, commoners on the right. Like it matters once blades start flying."

Gareth's eyes drifted over the black-armored crowd — the commoners' division.

Despite their plain gear, some of them stood with quiet confidence, shoulders squared, eyes sharp.

Gareth adjusted the clasps on his chestplate, the dark metal gleaming faintly under the torchlight.

"I heard the strongest among the commoners is a guy they call the Princely Prince of Dawn," Gareth muttered, half to Cassiel.Cassiel smirked. "Sounds like someone who polishes his boots more than he trains."

Before Gareth could reply, a voice boomed behind them.

"Make way! The Genius from Luminara has arrived!"

Teramon strode through the gathered cadets, armor gleaming — though several straps were clearly buckled wrong. One pauldron hung lower than the other, and his chestplate seemed half a size too tight. He gave them both a fist bump, nearly shaking Gareth's arm out of its socket.

Cassiel eyed him with a slow, assessing stare. "You do realize your armor's on backwards, right?"Teramon blinked. "No it's not."Gareth tilted his head. "Then why's the crest facing your spine?"Cassiel added, deadpan, "And why's your utility belt hanging from your shoulder?"

Teramon froze. "Wait—what? That can't—oh come on, it's experimental design!"

Gareth smirked. "Experimental stupidity, maybe."Cassiel chuckled. "You sure you're not part of the maintenance crew?"

Teramon threw up his hands. "Okay, alright, laugh it up, but at least I look good."Gareth crossed his arms.

"You look like a walking puzzle that gave up halfway through assembly."

Cassiel nodded. "Genius from Luminara, huh? More like Curiosity from Nowhere."

Teramon groaned. "Stop, please. I'm fragile."

Gareth leaned in. "We haven't even started. Should I remind you how you tried to 'study Veil flow' by sticking your hand into a live conduit?"

Cassiel added, "Or how he built that 'Veil compass' that exploded because he 'wanted to see what happens if you mix runes with vinegar?'"

"STOP—STOP! I yield!" Teramon clutched his helmet dramatically. "You two take joy in pain."

Cassiel grinned. "Correction. We take joy in keeping your ego alive long enough to roast it again."

Gareth fastened the final strap of his armor and murmured, "We're not just demons were students." He glanced up at them both, voice mockingly. "I think we might doomed if this is our team."

For a moment, none of them spoke. The forest loomed ahead — vast, dark, and whispering with unseen things.

The laughter faded, replaced by that heavy silence before the storm.

And then Cassiel broke it with a grin. "Next time, Genius, read the armor manual."

Teramon groaned again. "Next time, I'm switching teams."

The ground trembled as the gate's locks began to turn.A deep, grinding sound rolled through the camp — slow, ancient, like something that hadn't been opened in years.

The torches dimmed under the sudden gust of cold air that poured from beyond.Chains strained. Iron screamed.

Then, with a final, echoing groan, the massive gate split open — revealing a stretch of mist-choked wilderness.

The Wild Zone.

No sound came from within, only the whisper of wind through unseen trees. The air itself felt heavier, darker — as if the world beyond that threshold obeyed a different rhythm.

"Move in formation!" a voice barked from the front lines.

One by one, the cadets stepped forward — rows of black armor fading into the pale fog. Boots crunched against gravel and fallen leaves.

The line moved slowly, uncertainly, swallowed by the mist.

Gareth watched a moment longer, then exhaled. "Guess this is it guy's."Cassiel nodded. "No turning back now."Teramon forced a grin. "I was hoping for a better view."

They entered together.

The moment Gareth crossed the threshold, the world seemed to change — the light dimmed, the air thickened, and even his heartbeat sounded distant. The faint glow of the torches behind them flickered out, one by one.

When the last cadet passed through, the gate began to close.

Slowly.Heavily.Final.

The sound echoed through the clearing — clang… clang… clang... clang — until the iron doors sealed completely.

Silence followed.

No more campfires. No instructors. No sunlight.

Only the deep breath of the forest waiting ahead felt ancient, cold, and alive.

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