The Academy feels like a courtroom on the morning of the practical exam.
Not because anyone is speaking softly or walking carefully, though they are, but because the air has that same charged stillness you get right before a verdict is delivered. The kind where everyone pretends they're calm, and the ones who are truly calm are the most terrifying of all.
Students gather in the lower amphitheatre again, but the tone has changed, and yesterday was ink and parchment, whispers and confidence. Today is bodies and breath. Today is movement. Today is fear. Real fear, even if the danger is "simulated."
Ryn stands beside me, arms folded tight, trying to look unimpressed.
It almost works.
Until his foot starts tapping against the floor.
"Are you nervous?" I murmur.
"No. I am not," he says immediately.
"You definitely are."
He glares. "Look. If I'm nervous, it's because the entire Academy is nervous. It's rubbing off on me..."
"I don't... think that's how that works."
Ryn lifts his hand in humorous warning. "Don't."
I let the smile rise anyway. I can't help it. The adrenaline in the air is so contagious, and for once, it isn't just dread. It's excitement that is too raw, bright, and terrifying in the best possible way.
Above the amphitheatre, the crystalline lattice that projected yesterday's theory diagrams is gone.
In its place hangs something else.
A massive ring of blue-white Aether glass, rotating slowly. Inside it, faint outlines shimmer; corridors, branching paths, doors that appear and disappear like mirages. A map that refuses to be mapped.
[CONSTRUCT DETECTED]
[TYPE: SIMULATED ENVIRONMENT]
[AETHER DENSITY: HIGH]
[FUNCTION: ADAPTIVE PROJECTION]
"I don't know what that is... whatever it is," Ryn mutters, staring upward, "are we sure that it doesn't... I don't know... eat people?"
"Only the weak," a voice says near us, amused and smug.
We both turn.
A group of noble boys stood two rows down, their robes trimmed with silver thread, their hair perfectly styled as if they were in a boy band back from Earth. Their smiles were sharp, and they were openly laughing. The boy who spoke, in particular, had a subtle yet visible crest from a minor family.
Either way, Ryn and I were both thinking the same thing.
'He's definitely the type to cling to more important nobles'
He looks at Ryn like he's inspecting something unpleasant that wandered into the wrong room.
"I didn't realise they were letting this many Basin rats in," he says lightly.
Ryn's eyes narrow.
I speak first, calmly. "They let in whoever passes."
The noble boy's gaze slides to me, lingering just long enough to register my lack of crest. His smile widens.
"Yes," he says. "And today, they get the chance to correct their mistakes."
Ryn's jaw flexes, but he doesn't lunge.
I don't respond either. There's no value in wasting energy on a conversation that isn't meant to be won.
The bell rings.
Silence drops like a blade.
Members of the Faculty appear on the upper ring, stepping out of distortions with the same quiet inevitability as yesterday. The ash-grey-haired faculty member takes the central stage again. The scarred instructor stands to his right, arms folded, eyes sharp, expression unreadable.
The moment the scarred man appears, the crowd's energy shifts, causing even nobles to straighten.
Even the heirs pay attention.
Because whatever he is, he isn't just a teacher.
Not to them.
To them, he's something closer to a consequence.
The ash-grey-haired faculty member lifts a hand.
"Candidates," he says. "Today you will be measured in practice."
A pause.
"Not in raw power."
His gaze sweeps the amphitheatre.
"You will be judged by your ability to survive."
A murmur ripples, quickly suppressed.
He gestures upward.
The ring of Aether glass above us brightens, and the faint maze-outline inside it sharpens into startling clarity. Corridors, rooms, dead ends, rotating barriers, shifting walls. It looks infinite despite being contained within a ring.
"This is the Simulated Maze Trial," the faculty member says. "You will enter the maze individually through your assigned gateways."
Ryn leans toward me. "Individually? That's just cruel."
"I agree," I whisper back.
The faculty member continues.
"Your objective is simple. Locate the exit within the three hours you are allotted."
A pause.
"Do your best to survive until then."
He lets the words settle before adding the part everyone is waiting for.
"Ah! Before I forget."
"Within the maze, you will encounter hostile constructs."
Ryn groaned in frustration. "Of course. 'Hostile constructs'. Why not?? It's not like the exams are hard enough."
The ring flares, and for an instant, a silhouette appears inside it, something large, jagged, bestial. Then it dissolves into static.
"Holographic 'monsters,'" he says. "Projected through Aether and anchored by behavioural matrices."
A few students exhale. Some look relieved.
Then the scarred instructor steps forward, voice low and lethal.
"Do not mistake 'holographic' for harmless," he says.
Silence tightens.
"These constructs strike with simulated force," he continues. "Pain will be real. Fatigue will be real. If you are 'killed' in the simulation, your body will be pulled from the maze immediately."
His gaze sweeps the hall.
"And you will be eliminated from the exam."
The noble boy from earlier swallows.
The scarred man's eyes land briefly on me. Not a stare. A reminder.
Then he looks away.
The ash-grey-haired faculty member resumes.
"Some of you will attempt to rush the exit," he says. "Some of you will attempt to farm points by defeating constructs."
A faint smile, thin and academic. "Both can work, but remember, you only have three hours to exit the maze."
Ryn whispers, "What does he mean by 'points'?"
I keep my face forward.
A projection flares beside the man, a ranking board, blank for now, but waiting to be filled.
"Your practical score," the faculty member says, "will be assessed by three main factors. Efficiency, adaptation, and control."
The last word lands heavier.
I noticed a sharp spike in Aether within the atmosphere, for a brief moment. It was Cyril Valenhardt, standing several rows ahead with other heirs, who didn't react outwardly, but I felt the subtle shift of heat around him as he approved of the criteria.
"Efficiency," the faculty member says, "refers to your ability to progress with minimal waste, time, energy, and any unnecessary conflict."
That's aimed at me.
"Adaptation," he continues, "refers to your ability to respond to unfamiliar threats."
That's aimed at everyone.
"And control," he finishes, gaze sharpening, "refers to your ability to cast without endangering yourself, other candidates, or the maze's stability."
Ryn whispers, "So… basically don't blow up the walls."
I whisper back jokingly, "Try your best not to Ryn."
"Shut up, Kael."
While trying to hold back my smile, I can't help but think to myself, 'Man, it is really easy to tease Ryn.'
The scarred instructor speaks again, voice flat.
"If you... destabilise the maze, I will personally remove you."
The way he says it makes it sound like a privilege he alone has.
The bell rings once more.
"Ok, that concludes the explanation. Proceed to your assigned gates," the ash-grey-haired man says. "The trial will begin in fifteen to twenty minutes."
All students in the amphitheatre rise, the sound of robes, boots, and nervous breathing filling the air.
The Ten Heirs move together; they aren't clustered, but naturally aligned. Their presence isn't forced, yet they can make a crowd part for them instinctively.
Cyril Valenhardt walks like a refined blade.
Astrid Solvane, like the snowy frost.
Lucielle Ardentis, like sunlight held on a leash.
Rein Drakovar, like a mountain on the move.
Veyra Nythra, like a shadow deciding to be noticed.
Selene Lysoria, like a melody you can't quite hear but still feel.
Marin Thornevale, like rain, is quiet and patient.
Darius Renora, like something unfinished and dangerous.
And then there's Taron Caelvarin, who moves... oddly like he's at a party.
He's laughing with Selene about something, gesturing animatedly, as if today isn't a trial designed to break people.
Elya Veyrannis walks with them too, quiet, eyes drifting like she's listening to something no one else can hear.
As they pass, Elya's gaze flicks toward me. Again.
Not long this time. But long enough to remind her that she hasn't forgotten my existence.
The User has been observed by Elya Veyrannis multiple times. System recommends caution.
'I know Codex... but what exactly am I supposed to do?'
Taron's gaze follows hers, like he notices everything by accident, and when his eyes land on Ryn and me, his grin widens.
Then he does something completely unnecessary.
He winks. At us.
Ryn freezes, as if he's been shot.
I blink once, unsure if that just happened.
Taron's grin turns brighter, and he gives a casual two-finger salute before letting himself be swept along with the other heirs.
Ryn turns slowly toward me.
"…Did the heir of Caelvarin just wink at us?"
"Yes. Yes, he did." I say.
Ryn's face contorts. "Why???"
"I don't know," I reply honestly.
Ryn shudders. "I feel like a hurricane has just locked on to me... and I don't like it."
I almost laugh. "I'm sure it's nothing. He's probably just amused."
"By what? Our existence?" Ryn asks, horrified and sullen. "Are we some form of entertainment? For them?"
"Maybe. It probably isn't as serious as you think it is." I say.
"Ok, but..." Ryn points a finger at me, "If he tries to befriend us, I'm blaming you."
"I don't think... that's logical."
"Nothing about this whole situation is logical!" Ryn argues, exasperated.
'That's true.'
And for some reason, the absurdity of it, standing here about to be thrown into a simulated death maze, and Ryn being haunted by a noble heir's wink, makes something warm settle in my chest.
We're still here.
We're still ourselves.
Even now.
We follow the stream of candidates through a corridor that slopes downward into the Academy's inner testing wing. The architecture shifts again, with less open terraces, more reinforced stone and crystal, and thicker runes etched into the walls like arteries.
The air grows cooler. The hum of the maze construct grows louder. Ryn walks beside me, shoulders slightly hunched, trying to look like this is normal.
"Okay," he mutters. "New plan."
"We had an old plan?" I ask.
He ignores me. "If we see a monster, we try our best not to die."
"That sounds like a good plan," I say.
"Thank you, I spent a lot of time thinking about it."
"..."
He glances sideways at me. "You're weirdly calm."
"I'm not calm," I admit. "I'm focused."
Ryn makes a face like those are the same thing. "That's worse. Calm people can panic, but people who are too focused become tunnel-visioned and do something stupid on purpose."
"That's... a bold theory."
"It's a correct theory."
I let out a quiet breath through my nose, half laugh, half exhale, and watch the candidates ahead of us. Some are talking too loudly. Some are too silent. A few are already sweating.
Ryn's pace slows just slightly as the corridor narrows and the runes in the walls brighten.
"You ever think," he says, voice lower now, "that this is the place where we get to find out who we really are?"
I glance at him. "We already know who we are."
Ryn snorts. "That was the most 'Kael' answer you've ever given."
"Then you should be used to it by now."
He bumps my shoulder lightly, like he's reminding himself I'm real, standing here beside him.
"Just… don't do anything reckless," he says.
"I won't," I reply.
He narrows his eyes. "That sounded like a lie."
"It wasn't. I'll do something calculated."
Ryn groans. "I hate you."
"You don't."
"I do. A little."
Ten large gates line the curved wall, each framed in glowing runes. Candidates stand in staggered groups in front of them, guided by examiners holding crystal tablets. The gates themselves shimmer like liquid glass, each one leading into a different entry corridor of the maze.
A faculty examiner walks down the line, calling names.
When she reaches us, she checks her tablet.
"Ryn Falen," she says.
Ryn straightens. "Here."
"Gate Seven."
Ryn's eyes widen slightly. "Seven? That sounds unlucky."
The examiner's expression doesn't change. "Superstition is not a factor in this exam. There are no such things as 'lucky' gates."
Ryn mutters, "It could be."
She looks at me.
"Kael Arin?"
"Yes."
"You're Gate two."
Ryn's head snaps toward me. "Two?? That sounds a lot better."
"Superstition is not a factor for the exam..." the examiner repeats, her voice flat.
Ryn gives her a smile. "Yes, ma'am."
She walks away.
Ryn turns to me fully now, the humour fading slightly as reality settles in again.
"So," he says. "We're at different gates."
"Yes, seems so."
"Which means…" he gestures vaguely toward the shimmering portals. "We probably can't stick together."
"No, we can't."
For a moment, something quiet passes between us, an understanding that today isn't only theory. Today, you can't lean on each other the same way. Today, you can only hope the other survives.
Ryn scratches the back of his neck, then forces a grin.
"Don't die, Kael," he says.
I tilt my head. "You say that as if it's likely to happen."
"You know what I mean." He replies. "It bears being said."
I nod. "I know, thank you. You too."
He hesitates, then holds out his fist in a gesture I recognise from my old life more than this one.
A simple thing.
A small ritual.
I bump it gently with my own.
"The start line," Ryn says softly, almost to himself.
"Yep," I agree.
His grin returns, shaky but real. "If you get out before me, don't get cocky."
"If you get out before me—" I reply, "actually don't worry about that, it's not going to happen."
He laughs, then steps backwards toward Gate Seven. "Idiot."
"Good luck, Kael."
"Good luck, Ryn."
He pauses once more, then says, quieter, "And… thanks. For being here. For making it out of the Basin with me."
I feel something tighten in my chest.
"Anytime and always," I say.
Ryn turns and walks toward his gate.
I watch him go until the crowd shifts, and he's swallowed by other candidates.
Then I face Gate Two.
The portal shimmers like liquid crystal. Beyond it, shadows move, corridors forming and reforming as the maze calibrates to incoming participants.
[SIMULATED ENVIRONMENT THRESHOLD DETECTED]
[ENTRY GATE: TWO]
[TIME LIMIT: 3 HOURS]
[FAILURE CONDITION: ELIMINATION]
My pulse is steady.
Not because I'm fearless, but because I'm focused.
This is what the Academy is. Not classrooms. Not robes. Not titles, but a system that filters the world, a place that gets to decide who rises and who falls... and today, it will try to filter me out.
I won't let it.
I step closer to the gate. Behind me, somewhere among the heirs, I feel eyes again. Elya's quiet attention and Taron's amused curiosity. I don't look back.
The bell rings.
The trial begins.
I take one last breath of Valoria's clean air...
...and step through.