The massive rune-engraved doors groaned open, their heavy, ancient hinges booming out a thunderous note that was like the crash of a clap of thunder in the courtyard. For one frozen, silent moment, the entire group of applicants stood still, all eyes focused on the black opening beyond the gates. Then, like a tide drawn by an unseen moon, they surged forward, a wave of nervous anticipation carrying them deep into the very heart of the Academy of Arcanis.
Kai dropped over the threshold with Joren and Page, his breathing in his throat as the inside of the hall was revealed. The room within was something he had never witnessed and could have never imagined. It was a hall built not only for glory but to be awe-inspiring and totally overwhelm all who entered it. The exquisite marble floors glimmered like a sheet of still, dark water, their deep grey veins set aflame with searing silver runes that pulsed slowly, unthinkingly, as if the very ground of the Academy was enchanted. Fearsome pennants of fiery blue and silver, sporting the image of a soaring eagle, hung suspended in the impossible high air, but there were no poles or ropes holding them; they hovered slowly, vibrating as if caught in an unseen, unperceived wind. Far above, great crystalline chandeliers floated like seized stars in an endless night sky, a constant, unearthly light that pushed away all shadow but failed to alleviate the growing tension in Kai's chest.
All around him, hundreds of hopefuls crowded the hall, their anxious voices intertwining in a din of nerves and bravado. The air itself quivered feebly with the solid presence of their collective mana, each strong individual's energy mixing with others to fill the atmosphere with a stifling, pressurized quality in which it was hard to breathe. Kai watched as clusters of nobles remained distant from the rest, their personally designed armor glinting, their enchanted swords placed in fancy scabbards or resting against their shoulders like symbols of their lineage. The modest aspirants, like himself, seemed to hold their less decorated staves, spears, or talismans more nervously, their eyes darting about as though the Academy itself, great and awe-inspiring, could swallow them whole.
Kai felt tiny again, tiny, insignificant fish swallowed by an ocean of confidence and sheer power. His hand instinctively slid along the worn strap of his simple pack, the only possession linking him to the violent path that had led him here somehow. Everywhere loud laughter rang out, and boasts of levels and famous training masters rang out all around.
"This makes even the richest nobles look poor," Joren muttered in awe, his wide brown eyes drinking in the view of the magical chandeliers floating serenely above them. His usual smile wavered between unvarnished excitement and outright jitters. "I mean, flying lights? Floating banners? Do you guys think we'll get to take one home when we graduate?"
Page leveled a bored, expressionless stare at him, readjusting the thick strap of her satchel packed with books. "Those are focus conduits, Joren. There are probably each chandelier that directs stored mana from the heart of the Academy to elaborate light spells. The banners are likely rune-bound to respond to atmospheric currents of mana, which produces the illusion of movement without any actual wind."
Joren flinched at her rambling explanation, then reverted to Kai with a smile. "See? She dissipates all the magic by explaining how it works."
But Page's calm, detached tone only made Kai feel the weight of it all more. The Academy wasn't just a school. It was a place of immense power, of deep and ancient knowledge, and of smoldering, unyielding ambition—something well beyond the reach of mere mortals. And now, somehow, he had crossed into its very heart.
A sudden quiet rolled through the hall as a figure stepped out of a raised dais at the back. The sharp, clean tap of boots on marble rang out in a solid, pounding beat, and with each step, the crowd leaned back, as if the air itself around him was parting to let him through. The fellow stood tall and sturdy, his long silver hair flowing loose about broad shoulders. His eyes were sharp and austere, the color of a stormy day, and one felt that they could cut through stone with a glance. His robes were midnight blue, with interwoven within them in shifting, curved runes of silver and red threads which seemed to twist and shift as if they were alive. The very presence of his aura weighed down upon every breast in the room, an intangible yet unshakeable pressure. Several of the applicants' knees gave way under the weight, and some of the younger ones paled and whitened along the edges.
Kai's lungs compressed, and he felt a cold sweat break out at the back of his neck. Even standing still, this man radiated more brute strength than the killers that had hunted him, more tight-wound power than the creatures he had killed. This was someone who had walked through death and made death yield.
When he finally spoke, his words were low growl, but they traveled well to all the farthest reaches of the great hall without him having to shout. "Welcome, applicants, to the Academy of Arcanis."
The words themselves were simple, but the way they traveled made them vibrate deep in Kai's bones, resonating with an age-old and absolute power. "I am Master Caldor. Instructor. Sorcerer. Survivor. And today, I stand before you as your judge. The Academy does not want quantity. We are not interested in your noble bloodlines, your surname, or your parents' wealth. Power without control is no more than a flame waiting to burn you alive. Bloodlines without determination are worthless. What we seek here is one thing, and one thing only: potential."
The mob shifted uncomfortably. Even the most valorous of nobles tensed at his declaration, their haughty smiles faltering under his intent gaze. For Kai, however, those words were a lifeline.
Potential. That was something he might very well have.
"The initial test begins now," Caldor declared, his tone cutting through tension. His hands opening wide, and a large circle of runes flared into brilliant existence across the room floor. The marble glowed as old sigils flared to bright white light, spreading in increments of rings until the entire hall hummed with pent energy. "You will be cast into the Trial Grounds. There, your strength, your will, and your adaptability will all be strained to their limits." gasps of fear and expectation burst simultaneously. "Trial Grounds?" "What is it?" "Is it combat?" "A test of survival?"
Caldor's voice sliced through the chaos like steel. "The Trial adapts. For each of you, it will present challenges suited to test your limits, both physical and mental. To survive, you must hold on and gain at least one emblem from the grounds. Only those who return with proof of their victory will be allowed to proceed."
A ripple of fear went through the group. A few of the more battle-hardened candidates smiled hopefully; others turned pale, their assurance cracking. Joren let out a low, taut laugh beside Kai. "Sounds fun. Or fatal. Probabilities are, both."
Page's eyes had narrowed in thought. "Adaptive trials… That's not a matter of who gets to have the highest level. That's a matter of how well we can improvise in response to the surprise. That's not measuring something else altogether."
Kai remained silent, though his heart was racing.
Adaptive? Did it imply his odd system, high stats, but low level, would increase difficulty to him in the Trial? Or be his greatest strength? He had no idea. But he could feel the respect upon him—Joren's relaxed, questioning grin, Page's calm, calculating gaze, and dozens more, each foe silently wondering who would rise and who would fall.
With a jerking, brutal spasm of violence, the runes on the ground erupted in a pillar of blinding white light. The earth ruptured into a weightless, shimmering haze, the air itself curling and distorting as the candidates were drawn into the Trial Grounds. Kai's stomach churned as if reality itself was curving and shattering around him like glass.
When the light finally arrived, they did not stand in the great halls of marble that contained the Academy but in a vast, fog-shrouded forest. The trees were fantastically high, with twisted, ancient trunks and a wan, luminescent moss-ridden skin that threw up dim, macabre shadows. There was also a murmur of weird, guttural cries in the distance, too low and muscular to be of anything in nature. The air hung thick with the scent of damp earth and something metallic—blood, perhaps, or the threat of it.
Joren whistled softly, his eyes widening. "Well… that's not exactly the training yard I was thinking of."
She swept her eyes across the dark forest line, her voice low and serene but with an undercurrent of caution. "Mana concentration is strong here. Be careful. Creatures that live in places like this are always greater than they appear."
Slowly, Kai turned, the bizarre and hostile world enveloping him. His system went live against his will, and an acrid blue window glared before his eyes.
[Trial of Potential Initiated]
[Objective: Survive. Get at least 1 Trial Emblem.]
[Time Limit: 1 Hour. Victory: Expulsion.]
The words hung in the air like a stone carved sentence.
Expulsion. For the majority of them, that would be returning home in shame. For Kai, it was the failure to please Elara, failing himself, and losing the only real chance he had to get the answers and create his own fate. It was being turned back into a world where he was hunted but now without a place to hide.
The fog rolled. The earth trembled to a low growl that was so low it vibrated under his feet. Leaves breathed softly as something vast shifted in the darkness, its shape looming and twisted, its eyes burning like twin red embers in the dark.
Joren's fingers went to the blade of his sword, his easy grin now all gone, replaced by a stern look of determination. Page's fingers tightened hard on the strap of her satchel, and a gentle, bookish aura of mana played around her fingers. And Kai… Kai clenched his fists as his heart pounded in his chest. Every part of him wished to take flight, but something deeper—something forged in the agony and bloodshed of the last few weeks—set his feet to stone.
The fog parted, and out leapt the shadow. Sharp claws, thickened plates, and a row of fangs glittered with hungry saliva. The first trial had begun.
And Kai would not be the first to fail