Zane stepped through the large gates and paused, eyes widening ever so slightly.
The interior of the examination grounds was nothing short of majestic.
Gilded pillars carved with ancient runes lined the walls, and elegant banners of the academy fluttered in a wind that seed summoned by the arena itself. The massive coliseum was shaped like a colossal bowl, seating thousands, though only a few dozen important figures and curious nobles watched today's entry trial from the upper stands. Even so, the tension in the air made it feel like the whole world was watching.
The center of it all was the arena floor—an intricate array of glowing magic circles, surrounded by shimring golden light. A defensive formation. It pulsed gently, ensuring that no participant would et a true end within its bounds. Those who received a "fatal" blow would be instantly teleported to the sidelines, dazed but alive.
It was the academy's way of weeding out the weak... without creating a graveyard.
An instructor, cloaked in black with golden trim, walked to the center. His voice bood, magically amplified.
"Welco, aspirants. You have co seeking strength, glory, and recognition. But first, you must prove yourselves."
He extended his arm to the side. A glowing board with dozens of nas shimred into view.
"The rules are simple. One-on-one duels. Elimination-style. No killing—our formation will remove you before that. Win your match, and proceed to the next phase. Lose, and you may try again next year."
His eyes swept the crowd like a blade.
"May the trials begin."
Crackling magical energy surged through the formation. The first nas were called, and the crowd roared as two hopefuls stepped forward.
A boy clad in scaled armor fought against a girl who manipulated fire with twin daggers. Sparks flew—literally—as their powers collided, the flas swirling against his hardened defenses.
Another match saw a hulking brute wielding a warhamr face a nimble wind dancer who danced across the arena like a leaf in a storm. Though brute strength prevailed in the end, it was not without struggle.
Match after match, nas lit up, and fighters clashed in bursts of light, steel, and sheer willpower.
And sowhere in the crowd, sitting with his hood slightly down, was Zane.
He watched. He observed. He waited.
His na was still yet to be called...
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