"Next up! The man with pointy ears!" the elder's voice rang out across the plaza, carrying an almost playful tone that contrasted with the weight of the moment.
All eyes turned as the next one to step forward was none other than the elf who had spoken earlier—the one whose people had addressed him as Prince Eredyn.
*clunk… *clunk…
The prince moved with quiet confidence, the faint rustle of his cloak brushing against his embroidered green tunic.
Four elf guards flanked him, each adorned in elegant, golden armor polished to a mirror sheen, the crests of House Idren gleaming proudly on their chests.
The crowd instinctively parted as they made their way toward the elder, the sound of their steps soft but commanding—each one heavy with the weight of expectation.
Eredyn stopped at the base of the small marble staircase leading up to the platform where the elder stood.
Without hesitation, he ascended, his movements smooth and measured, his presence calm yet firm.
When he reached the top, the elder greeted him with a smile that carried both kindness and amusement.
"As custom, you must kneel, my child," the elder said gently, his voice steady and warm.
"It is a sign of respect for Vrynn—and, hoho, also a way for me to reach your forehead, since you are quite the tall one!"
Laughter rippled faintly among a few of the Eshari, but from the elven crowd came gasps instead.
"...He dares to make the prince kneel before him?" a sharp voice hissed.
"...This is disrespect to our great royalty!" another shouted, louder this time.
The murmurs spread through the elves like wildfire, their faces turning tense, anger rising beneath the surface of their grace.
For them, kneeling was more than a gesture—it was submission, something their kind rarely showed, much less from a prince.
And this was no ordinary elf.
Prince Eredyn, heir to the House Idren—the family of heroes whose names filled the oldest songs of their civilization.
His ancestors were warriors who fought in the Dawn Wars, scholars who shaped the very arts of mana and light.
He was the culmination of that lineage, a living symbol of pride and power.
To see him asked to kneel—
to see him lower himself before another—
was a wound to their pride.
"Silence!" Eredyn's voice cut through the air like a blade, sharp and commanding, leaving no room for defiance.
The echo of his shout rolled across the gathering, bouncing off the marble walls and silencing every elf in an instant.
His golden eyes burned as he turned his head slightly, glaring back at his people who stood frozen, their protests dying in their throats.
"We are but foreigners in these lands," he declared, his tone even but firm,
"and as such, we are to respect their customs if we wish for them to accommodate us."
His words carried the steady weight of leadership—controlled anger mixed with the quiet dignity of someone born to rule.
For a moment, no one dared speak.
The prince turned again, facing the elder, then exhaled softly.
He stepped forward, lowering one knee to the polished stone floor.
The crowd watched as the proud heir of House Idren—descendant of heroes, son of the elven high court—bowed without hesitation.
His cloak draped across the floor, the sigil of his family gleaming faintly in the golden light that pulsed from the orb above.
"You may proceed, elder," Eredyn said at last, voice calm, his eyes unwavering as they met the elder's gaze.
The elder nodded, his smile faint but approving. "Very well."
He raised his staff, the symbols carved along its shaft glowing faintly, then reached forward and placed his palm against Eredyn's forehead.
The air around them rippled at once, the quiet hum of energy growing louder, sharper.
Sparks of golden light flared from the elder's hand and danced across the prince's hair, his shoulders, his armor.
The orb above began to turn faster, its hue shifting from gold to amber, then deepening further—until a bright crimson light erupted outward like a silent explosion.
Gasps tore through the crowd.
"I-It can't be!"
"A b-bright red color… that means—!"
"An SS-Class!"
The words rippled like a wave, spreading from one end of the gathering to the other.
Shocked murmurs rose and tangled with each other as nobles, adventurers, and denizens all tried to process what they were seeing.
An SS-Class.
The kind of power that only existed in legends.
The kind that could shape kingdoms, topple empires, or perhaps even rival the chosen disciples of Vrynn themselves.
The elder stepped back, his laughter booming and full of delight.
*clap!
"An SS-Class! What a turn of events!" He clapped his hands once, the sound echoing like a drum before he nodded deeply toward the kneeling prince.
"Truly magnificent, young one. Vrynn's light shines brightly within you!"
The nobles exchanged quick glances among themselves, their calm masks breaking just enough to reveal greed and calculation in their eyes.
The test had only begun, but already, the stage had shifted.
Every soul there knew it—this was no ordinary gathering.
The return of the Eshari had just brought forth a legend reborn.
And what more legends could the Eshari reveal throughout all the tests currently occurring all over Vrynn?
Murmurs continued to ripple across the plaza, waves of excitement and disbelief spreading through the sea of Eshari and the watching denizens of Vrynn.
The noise persisted for several moments—until the elder finally lifted his hand, his calm expression returning the gathering to silence.
"You may now stand, prince," the elder said, a proud smile softening his aged features.
He straightened his posture, the faintest hint of reverence in his eyes.
"It is not every day that I am granted the honor to test one who bears the mark of an SS-Class Eshari."
Eredyn rose slowly, the light from the orb above still tracing faint lines across his polished armor and flowing cloak.
Before he could take a step down,
*thud!
the elder tapped the butt of his staff against the marble floor.
A pulse of golden light expanded outward, swirling at his side until it condensed into an object floating just before him.
It was a jewel—brilliant and ornate, its surface engraved with fine symbols that shimmered faintly as if alive.
The gem's glow carried the same crimson hue that had illuminated the prince moments ago, marking him unmistakably as one touched by Vrynn's higher grace.
"Take this," the elder said, gesturing toward it.
"It is a symbol of your superior class grade—a mark for others to see, and a means to measure how much benefit and blessing you shall receive under our accommodations."
The jewel hovered toward Eredyn's outstretched hand.
Without hesitation, the prince took it, feeling its weight settle naturally into his palm.
He turned it once, studying the intricate symbol etched across its face, before raising his gaze toward the elder.
"Can I perhaps use this object to accommodate my vassals and my people?" he asked, his tone calm but resolute, as if the answer already mattered more to him than the jewel itself.
"Why, of course," the elder replied without delay, his eyes softening as he looked toward the crowd of elves gathered below.
"If a man wishes to share his grace, even at the cost of his own supplies dwindling for the sake of generosity… why not? That, too, is a reflection of true strength."
"Very well," Eredyn said, his golden eyes gleaming faintly in the light of the orb.
He gave a firm nod before turning to descend the marble steps, his figure steady and composed.
*clunk! *clunk! *clunk!
The sound of his boots against the stone echoed faintly—until the moment he reached the ground.
There, waiting for him, were his loyal elven soldiers.
As soon as their prince came into view, they slammed their fists against their chests in perfect unison,
*Clang! *Clang! *Clang! *Clang!
the metallic sound ringing like thunder.
"Hail Eredyn! Hail Eredyn! Hail Eredyn!"
Their voices roared across the courtyard, proud and fierce, echoing between the towering pillars that surrounded them.
"Hail Eredyn! Hail Eredyn! Hail Eredyn! Hail Eredyn! Hail Eredyn! Hail Eredyn!"
The other elves joined in soon after, their chants swelling into a unified cry of triumph and reverence.
The golden light from the orb above reflected off their armor and banners, dancing across their faces as they shouted their prince's name over and over again.
For that brief moment, it felt as though all of Vrynn itself had paused to acknowledge the rise of one of its new legends—Eredyn of House Idren, the first SS-Class of the returning Eshari.
And just like that, the testing continued.
One by one, the Eshari stepped forward, each standing beneath the glowing orb as their results flared for all to see.
Some shone bright with B-Class, others carried the stronger light of A, while a few unlucky ones dimmed under the mark of C-Class.
All the while, the nobles watched from their seats, their eyes sharp and calculating—studying each candidate as if they were goods to be bought,
measuring value, strength, and potential.
The air grew heavier with each test, the tension building as more results appeared.
Finally, the line shortened until only two remained.
Haeryn and Razan.
Haeryn turned to him with a faint grin.
"Off I go then," she said, giving him a small nod.
"Then what are you waiting for?" Razan smirked back, his tone light but his eyes sharp with curiosity.