THE NEXT MORNING.. arrived with a cold bite in the air.
A horn blast tore through the dorms, deep and resonant, rattling even the cracked panes of Eran’s window. He was already awake, sitting on the cot’s edge, boots laced, expression blank. His eyes, however, carried a sharpened glint beneath the surface, like a blade half-drawn from its sheath.
The corridors stirred alive with footsteps and chatter. Nobles spilled out of their chambers in tailored uniforms, mana-infused fabrics shimring faintly beneath the sun streaming through the high windows. Their laughter carried down the hall, smug and careless, as though victory had already been scripted.
Eran joined the flow quietly, another body in the tide, unnoticed and unimportant.
The academy’s training coliseum was vast, carved into the earth itself. Rising tiers of stone benches circled the dueling grounds, already filling with students and instructors. The air shimred faintly with enchantnts—wards to contain stray spells, runes to record every clash, even veils to magnify the sound so no whisper of pain or triumph went unheard.
At the center of the ground, seven massive stone crests stood upright in a perfect ring, each inscribed with runes that pulsed faintly, awaiting touch. These were the Pairing Crests.. ancient artifacts said to judge compatibility between students. If two touched the sa crest and the sigils flared, they were bound as partners for the year’s trials.
Failure to awaken a crest ant expulsion.
Failure to resonate with another ant solitude... and solitude in this academy was a sentence worse than death.
"Step forward," barked an instructor in silver-trimd robes. His voice carried like thunder. "By the order of the Headmaster, today’s duels will decide the rightful partnerships of Class D."
A ripple went through the crowd. So faces glowed with eagerness, others paled with nerves.
Eran’s gaze swept over them all, unreadable.
The first nas were called. Two nobles strutted forward, mana already swirling visibly around their hands. They pressed their palms to one of the glowing crests. Instantly, the stone flared, runes igniting like wildfire, and a line of light stretched between them, binding them in a gleaming arc.
The crowd cheered.
More followed. Nas rang out, pairs ford, runes flared one after another.
Each successful binding only deepened the tension for those left waiting.
And Eran waited.
Student after student was called, but none approached him. Whispers threaded the benches now, sharp enough to sting.
"Of course no one’s stepping to him. A commoner? No heritage, no mana line, no status. Who would dare?"
"He’ll end up discarded. Just like the last failures."
"Watch. When the crest rejects him, he’ll crawl back to the gutter where he belongs."
Eran stood motionless, gaze fixed forward, as though the words never touched him. But inside, his pulse slowed, his breathing steadied. Every insult was fuel. Every sneer another stone for the fire he was building in silence.
The instructor’s eyes narrowed as the circle of paired students grew smaller and smaller. Only a handful remained unbound now. Selene stood among them, her arms folded, her face calm, though her eyes flicked once just once in Eran’s direction.
If anyone else noticed, they mistook it for scorn.
"Next pair!" the instructor thundered.
A noble girl with violet hair and a jeweled staff strode confidently to the crest. Her chosen partner followed with equal arrogance. The stone flared for them imdiately, drowning the arena in light.
The crowd roared.
And Eran... remained alone.
When silence fell again, a strange tension stretched across the dueling ground. The instructor’s gaze finally fell on him.
"...Eran." His na was spoken like a sentence, not a summons. "Step forward."
The laughter in the stands returned in quiet waves.
Eran walked forward slowly, every step deliberate, every movent a refusal to bow his head. He stopped before the final crest, its runes dormant, waiting.
The arena leaned in.
Would the crest awaken? Would it mock him as the others had? Would it burn him alive for daring to try?
He raised his hand. Paused.
And then pressed his palm to the stone.
The instant Eran’s palm touched the cold stone, the crest shivered.
For a mont—nothing.
The silence was suffocating. Nobles smirked. Whispers burst like sparks through dry grass.
"See? Not even a flicker."
"I told you—dead mana veins."
"A waste of space."
A few students laughed openly now, so even turning away, convinced the show was over.
BUT THEN...
A pulse.
Faint at first, like the heartbeat of sothing buried deep. The runes flickered once, weak and almost embarrassed.
The nobles jeered louder.
"That’s it? A spark?"
"Pathetic."
"Even a rat pressed to the stone would give more life than that."
Yet the flicker did not die. It lingered, trembling... then another pulse followed. Stronger. Deeper. The lines carved into the stone began to glow like veins filling with fire.
The air grew heavy, pressing down on the arena.
The laughter faltered.
"What ?"
"It’s... not stopping."
The glow thickened, no longer flickers but steady waves of light. The crest’s runes bled crimson-gold, threads of raw mana crawling across the arena floor itself, as if the artifact had been roused from centuries of slumber.
Instructors stirred on the high platform. One leaned forward sharply.
"That... that resonance isn’t natural."
"It’s overloading. The crest should only respond to balanced pairs, not an individual."
"Impossible. He’s... alone."
The crowd broke into chaos, half in awe, half in outrage.
Eran did not move. His palm rested flat against the crest, face carved from stone. But in the corner of his mouth, just barely, a smirk ghosted across his lips.
Across the arena, Selene’s eyes glead. A secret smile touched her mouth, subtle and devastating. She tilted her head the slightest degree, as though whispering silently to him: So it begins.
The glow surged higher. Runes leapt off the stone itself, spiraling around Eran’s arm like a crown of fire. The artifact keened—a long, tallic groan that reverberated in bone.
The instructor who had called his na slamd his staff against the ground. "Enough! Step back, boy!"
But the crest did not release him.
It clung, as though choosing him, binding to him in defiance of every law the academy had set.
The nobles’ faces had shifted now from mockery to unease. So clenched fists. So looked ready to call foul.
"He’s cheating."
"So trick artifact."
"There’s no way the crest would acknowledge a..."
And then the stone cracked.
A hairline fracture ripped across the crest’s surface, glowing with molten light, as if the artifact itself had bled to respond to Eran.
The noise that followed silenced the arena completely.
A silence not of mockery
But of fear.
The arena pulsed with light. For an instant, every gaze was locked on Eran.
The crest still throbbed behind him like a living sun, its runes trembling between collapse and awakening. The instructors leaned forward in disbelief, students froze, and Selene’s hidden smirk curved sharper.
All eyes. All silence.
It was his mont.
THEN...
Eran staggered.
His eyes rolled faintly like the strain had ripped through him. His knees buckled. With a low grunt, he crumpled sideways onto the stone floor. The crimson-gold light sputtered violently, then flickered out.
Darkness returned to the crest. The once-molten runes dulled into lifeless cracks.
For a breath, the arena stayed silent. Confusion cracked through the stillness.
Then the explosion ca.
Laughter. Roaring, unrestrained, cruel.
"Pfft—ha! He fainted!"
"I knew it! A pathetic flare and nothing more!"
"A commoner playing noble tricks!"
"Not even worth the dust beneath a Grade D’s boots!"
So students clutched their stomachs, laughing until tears pricked. Others pointed, their voices sharpened by glee.
"He thought he could stand with us!"
"Look at him.. flat on the ground, gasping like a fish!"
"He’ll never even reach Veylar, much less a D-rank Vrynx!"
The crowd’s jeers swelled into a storm. Even the clouds above seed to echo with their noise, the arena vibrating with derision.
On the high platform, the instructors’ debate grew sharper.
"He collapsed before synchronization could lock. It ans rejection."
"Or overload. That crest nearly cracked "
"Coincidence. He lacks stability. That failure proves it."
And yet... Selene’s gaze never wavered. Amid the chaos, her lips curved, soft and knowing. She tilted her head slightly, eyes catching the faintest flicker beneath Eran’s lashes as he lay "unconscious."
Because she knew.
He hadn’t failed.
She had etched her own mana into the crest, weaving it subtly between his, masking the truth. To the eyes of the officials, it appeared like Eran had flickered the stones to life by his own hand. A re spark, barely enough for him to handle, and barely enough to pass. But in that faint glow, a lie was born—one that gave him a place.
And in that mont, as the laughter crashed over him, Eran’s mouth twitched so slightly
Not in pain.
But in quiet satisfaction.
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