The Resonance Field
The following day, the Harvesters made their way toward a massive open field where the second phase of the preliminary testing was set to commence. The magic of the Harvest Festival seemed to pulse through the very soil of the clearing. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue over the vast expanse and stretching the long shadows of the towering trees that encircled the area. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves overhead, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and the heavy, electric charge of impending magic. The atmosphere crackled with a palpable excitement. George stood amidst the crowd, his pale blond hair catching the golden light as he observed the other young mages. They were a kaleidoscope of color, clad in garments that shifted hues under the magical canopy, their expressions a tense mixture of fierce determination and mounting apprehension. Before them lay the test field—a sprawling grassy terrain dotted with shimmering, translucent targets that hovered at varying heights and distances. These weren't mere straw dummies; they were reactive arcane focal points designed to measure impact, precision, and elemental purity. The trial kicked off with a deafening roar of power. From the earlier groups, George watched a relentless display of mastery: roaring fireballs that turned the air to a shimmering haze, lances of pure energy that hissed like vipers, and concentrated wind balls that tore through the grass with the force of a cyclone. Harvester after Harvester stepped forward, each demonstrating their command over the elements in a desperate bid to catch the Watchers' eyes.
"Group C! Prepare for assessment!" the amplified voice commanded, cutting through the thunder of the exercises.
George's heart raced against his ribs. He felt the weight of his Tele-stone ring, a constant reminder of the arduous training sessions in the Pattern Yard under Professor Zorro. Every fireball he saw and every blast of wind he witnessed brought him closer to the realization of his dream. He wasn't just here to survive; he was drawing closer to the path of a legendary hero. The hours stretched on as George watched his fellow Harvesters. He saw a boy from the southern provinces manifest a shield of rotating stone, and a girl whose ice shards glinted like diamonds before shattering against the targets. The sheer variety of magic was staggering, a reminder of how wide the world truly was beyond the simple, quiet boundaries of his home village.
Finally, the voice called out the number he had been waiting for. "Harvester C one thousand five hundred and seventy-five! Step forward!"
George took a steadying breath, the grass crunching beneath his boots as he walked toward the firing line. The golden sun hit the silver mask of the Watcher stationed nearby, whose pen remained poised over a leather-bound journal. This was the moment where the "Cup and Leaf" theory met the reality of the Harvest. With a steady hand, George raised his arm, his eyes locked onto the shimmering targets ahead.