With frustration simmering in his chest, Lior rushed through everything like a storm. He took a quick bath, water splashing against the floor as he muttered to himself about timing. The fatigue from the lightning trial still clung to him—his body ached, and faint traces of lightning energy flickered in his veins, refusing to settle.
He barely dried off before activating his teleportation sigil. In a flash of blue light, he vanished and reappeared in his village. The familiar scent of home was oddly calming, though he had no time to enjoy it. He quickly gathered his mother's belongings—clothes, keepsakes, and her favorite wooden comb—making sure everything was packed neatly. Then, without wasting another second, he held her close, whispered something reassuring, and teleported again.
When they appeared at the central departure station, the scene was organized chaos. Crowds of people moved in every direction—families saying teary goodbyes, adventurers showing off gear, and officials barking instructions through enchanted megaphones.
Lior spotted his mother's assigned group just in time. She looked different now—calmer, more confident, almost glowing with pride. The trials had changed more than just him; they had changed everyone who believed in him too.
"You're cutting it close, Lior," his mother said, though her voice was warm with affection.
He grinned faintly. "You know me. I like to make a dramatic entrance."
She chuckled softly and hugged him, whispering, "Stay safe, my son. And don't overdo it."
"I'll try not to," he replied with a smirk that betrayed his intentions.
He helped her onto one of the transports meant for relatives—sleek, rune-powered vessels that hummed with quiet energy. As it began to lift off, he waved one last time before turning to his own station.
He arrived just as the final boarding call echoed across the plaza. "All participants aboard! We depart now!"
Panting, Lior slipped through the gate and climbed into the transport. Inside, rows of seats were filled with other qualifiers—some whispering nervously, others staring out the window in silent thought. The hum of mana engines filled the cabin.
He barely had time to buckle himself in before exhaustion overcame him. Within two minutes, his breathing steadied, and he was fast asleep.
Outside, the world blurred into streaks of green and gold as the transports glided across the countryside. Mountains rose in the distance, rivers shimmered beneath them, and occasionally, the clouds themselves seemed to part in awe.
The journey wasn't peaceful, though. Several times, the convoy came under attack. Winged beasts screeched from above, and shadowy creatures burst from the forests below. But each time, the escort teams—elite mages and knights—fended them off with powerful spells. Lightning flashed, fire burned, and wind blades split the air.
And through it all… Lior slept.
Not even an explosion that shook the entire cabin managed to wake him. Some of the passengers started whispering.
"Is he… dead?" one asked cautiously.
"No," another said, leaning closer. "He's breathing. Just asleep. How does someone sleep through all this?"
"I heard he beat Rin in one strike," someone else muttered. "Maybe he's conserving his energy."
Lior, meanwhile, was deep in a dreamless rest. His body was still adapting to the lightning element he had just unlocked. Inside him, crackling threads of blue light slowly intertwined with his mana core, adjusting, syncing, and stabilizing.
When the transport finally landed, the sun had already begun to set.
Lior stirred, blinking blearily as the sound of the captain's voice filled the cabin. "Welcome, adventurers, to the Capital of Vayrion—the heart of the kingdom and home to The Grand Arcanum of Vayrion
As he stepped out, he was greeted by a breathtaking sight. The capital was massive—its skyline filled with crystal spires and towering walls etched with runic symbols that glowed faintly in the dusk. Floating platforms drifted between tall buildings, and the streets below pulsed with magic-infused energy.
At the center of it all stood a colossal building—the academy itself. Its domed roof shimmered with elemental lights, and banners bearing the guild's insignia hung proudly from its walls: a sword surrounded by four elemental crests.
"This way, recruits!" shouted an instructor, his voice carrying across the courtyard.
Lior followed the others inside. The interior of the institute was even more impressive—marble floors lined with gold veins, glowing crystal lamps, and murals depicting legendary adventurers from centuries past.
After everyone had gathered, a tall man in a dark blue coat stepped onto the stage. His aura was calm yet commanding. "Welcome, chosen ones," he began. "You have proven your strength, endurance, and will. But remember—this is only the beginning."
He paced slowly, eyes scanning the crowd. "For one full year, you will live, learn, and train here. You will be tested in every way imaginable—physically, mentally, and magically. Some of you will rise to greatness… others will not."
A murmur spread through the hall.
"The Guild will provide all your needs—food, shelter, and resources," the man continued. "In return, you will give your all. Because once you leave this place, you will not be mere adventurers… you will be protectors of the realm."
The crowd went silent. The weight of his words was heavy, but inspiring.
Another instructor stepped forward, voice booming across the courtyard. "Welcome to The Grand Arcanum of Vayrion! From this day forward, you are no longer mere participants—you are cadets of the Institute!"
The crowd erupted in applause and murmurs of excitement.
"You will be trained here for one full year," the instructor continued. "You will learn everything—combat, strategy, survival, monster classification, and guild protocols. You will also be provided housing, meals, and supplies for the duration of your stay. After that year, you'll be officially registered and free to take on quests in the real world."
The magnitude of it all began to sink in. A year of training, living among the most promising talents from every region… it wasn't just an opportunity—it was a new beginning.
As they were divided into groups, Lior looked around. People from every corner of the country had arrived—warriors, mages, archers, tamers, and even a few mysterious individuals cloaked in robes. The atmosphere was charged with potential… and competition.
"Brace yourselves," the instructor warned, his tone hardening. "The path ahead will not be easy. Many before you have quit before the first month was over. But those who endure will rise beyond imagination."
A hush fell over the crowd.
Lior stood quietly, hands in his pockets, watching as the other cadets murmured nervously. A faint smile curved his lips.
He whispered to himself, "Tough, huh? Sounds fun."
Little did he know, this was only the beginning of something far greater. The real journey—the one that would shape the fate of kingdoms—had just begun.