The sun had barely moved in the sky when the final set of cadets from the first phase stumbled across the finish line. The number of applicants had already dwindled. From over 250 hopefuls, only 196 remained. The others—some limping, others unconscious—had already been escorted off the grounds, deemed unworthy of proceeding further. Whispers echoed across the arena stands as noble families, war veterans, and imperial recruiters took notes from above.
The instructor stepped onto the arena stage again, his voice amplified by a small Acarna crystal clipped to his collar.
"Congratulations," he began, his voice calm but commanding, "You've survived the first phase. The easy phase."
A few cadets groaned or exchanged looks of disbelief. If what they had just gone through was considered easy, what would the next part be like?
He continued. "Now, listen well. The second phase is where most of you will fall. This is where we separate potential from resolve. You will be tasked with lifting a special kind of stone—commonly referred to as a Gravity Stone—and carrying it halfway across the same 500-meter path."
A nervous rustling passed through the cadets like a breeze. Kael stood toward the middle of the gathered group, quietly catching his breath. His shoulders ached from the weight bands strapped beneath his clothes, but he remained focused.
A hand shot up.
"Yes?"
A confident voice spoke, "Does the weight increase the further we go, or does it remain constant?"
The crowd turned to look at the speaker.
The instructor smirked. "Step forward."
The boy did, brushing silver-blonde hair from his sharp features as if expecting the spotlight. "Flynn Wilder."
A collective gasp filled the arena.
"Wilder?" someone whispered. "From the Wilder family?"
"No way—that's General Kaidan's son."
"The Wilders are warborn nobility… top-tier combat lineage."
Kael narrowed his eyes as he watched Flynn stand calmly, not smugly, but with a self-assurance that seemed to hum with inherited strength. He had been the fastest in Kael's own group during the first test. Now, he stood without a hint of exhaustion, his posture a perfect blend of discipline and confidence.
Flynn repeated his question more clearly. "Does the stone get heavier as we proceed?"
The instructor shook his head. "Good question. But no, not heavier—lighter. You see, the so-called 'Gravity Stones' aren't actual gravity-based minerals. They're stones embedded with a hollow Acarna core. These cores are designed to absorb your energy. The more energy you exert—the more it consumes—the lighter the stone becomes."
A few cadets blinked in confusion.
The instructor clarified. "If you can't lift it now… you're not strong enough to activate the absorption. That means you're eliminated before the real challenge even begins."
A wave of tension fell across the group. Some cadets looked down at their hands, others whispered among themselves, fear quickly spreading like wildfire.
Kael's mind, however, was elsewhere. His eyes wandered across the room, eventually landing on a familiar figure awkwardly stretching his shoulders.
Ryn.
The sight made Kael smirk. He could still recall how Ryn practically crawled across the finish line during the first phase—his hands clawing at the ground, his legs kicking weakly like a dying beetle.
A chuckle escaped Kael's lips.
Ryn, still unaware of the gaze upon him, yawned deeply, stretched his back, then stared at the stone platform as if already regretting his life choices.
"Alright," the instructor announced, cutting through the tension. "We'll now begin the second phase. Line up according to your group numbers. Each group of twenty will proceed as one. Step forward when your name is called."
One by one, cadets began moving to the holding lines, forming into neat rows near the edge of the arena. The giant stone pathway loomed once more under the glass-paneled top, glowing faintly from the residual energy of the first phase. New sets of dark, jagged grayish-blue stones were arranged before them, each roughly the size of a small barrel—massive and unmoving.
Kael's group was called quickly. He approached his stone. The closer he got, the more he could feel it—its pull, its resistance, like a boulder exhaling pressure. It pulsed softly, hungry for energy. The stone had no arcane glow, no movement, no flicker. But to Kael, it radiated hunger.
"In your group," the instructor called, "you will have sixty seconds to lift the stone. If you can't lift it within that time—you're disqualified. Once you lift it, you will carry it as far as you can. Crossing 250 meters is the minimum required to pass. Anyone who does so automatically qualifies for the next phase."
Kael's fingers clenched slightly. "Only 250 meters, huh?" he whispered to himself. A week ago, that would've sounded terrifying. Now, it just felt like another brutal morning run.
The instructor raised his hand. "On my mark… set…"
A loud snap echoed as he flicked his fingers. A flash of light burst from his ring—the signal to begin.
Kael reached for the stone.
Kael stepped forward and placed his palms on the cold, jagged surface of the Gravity Stone. The moment his skin met the stone, it reacted violently.
A sharp pull tore through his core as the stone hungrily devoured his Acarna. His eyes widened slightly—not in fear, but in surprise. The stone didn't just drain him; it nearly emptied him in a single breath. His muscles tensed, his breath hitched, and for an instant, his knees buckled under the sudden drop in energy.
So that's what the instructor meant…
He recovered quickly, planting his feet and focusing. The crystal training chamber in his basement had prepared him for this kind of drain. He inhaled, centering his breath, and forced his suppressed energy to stabilize.
Then, with a quiet grunt, he lifted the stone.
To him—it felt like lifting a bundle of paper.
Kael blinked.
The stone was featherlight. The moment it absorbed enough of his energy, the load became laughable. If he hadn't been careful, he might've tossed it over his shoulder and sprinted the whole way.
But he remembered his mother's voice clearly:
> "Don't show off. The ones who shine too brightly too early… are the first to be caged."
Kael exhaled slowly, keeping his expression strained—just enough to fake the effort.
Around him, several cadets groaned under the weight of their own stones. Some struggled to lift theirs at all, still within the sixty-second time limit. Others managed to hoist theirs shakily, sweat already pouring down their foreheads.
The countdown continued.
Rather than rushing forward and drawing attention, Kael waited—watching the group unfold like a game of cards. He let the first boy sprint forward—Flynn Wilder, unsurprisingly—his silver hair catching the light as he bolted into the pathway with sharp discipline.
Two others followed shortly after.
When the third cadet crossed into the energy-drenched passage, Kael finally moved.
His legs moved smoothly, his arms holding the stone as if it still bore some weight. But within his mind, he carefully calculated every step, every breath.
As he entered the energy pathway, he felt it wash over him—the same intensity as the first trial, but this time it clashed oddly with his own reserves. He expected resistance, pressure, heat. But instead… there was something strange.
The energy didn't sting.
If anything, it felt muted, like trying to push against water instead of wind. Kael's instincts told him why.
The stone absorbed too much. It's pulling from the path itself…
He adjusted quickly, slowing his pace just enough to maintain the illusion of effort. His muscles trembled—on purpose. His breathing became heavier—on purpose. Each footstep was measured, keeping in step with the third cadet ahead of him.
He could have passed him.
He didn't.
Instead, he followed closely, making sure to fall into third place by the time the finish line approached. The crowd roared as Flynn crossed first, his family's standard already waving high in the stands.
The second cadet stumbled past the line.
Then Kael.
He crossed with a controlled exhale, letting the stone drop gently beside him, and quickly turned around.
Behind him… silence.
A few grunts. A cry. The heavy thud of collapsing bodies.
One by one, the remaining cadets fell—some dropping the stones mid-run, others toppling sideways, overwhelmed by exhaustion and energy loss. Arena medics dashed into the path, retrieving limp cadets with glowing stretchers.
When the dust cleared, only five of them—out of twenty—had crossed the halfway mark.
Kael watched quietly, expression unreadable. He noted the instructors whispering, scribbling scores. He could feel eyes on him, but none of them knew what really happened. That was good.
As he stepped aside to wait for the next round to finish, Kael couldn't help but glance toward the crowd once more.
He still couldn't spot his mother, but he felt her presence. And more importantly—he knew she was watching.
And somewhere deep down, smiling
The arena quieted as the second phase drew toward its end, tension replacing the earlier noise of awe and applause. The instructors' faces had grown sterner—less celebratory, more calculating.
The last group of cadets from Kael's heat were carried off the field, their bodies limp and drenched in sweat. Some trembled uncontrollably. Others had passed out cold.
The Gravity Stones, it turned out, weren't just a test of strength—they were a test of mastery.
The instructor stepped forward to address the remaining applicants:
> "This phase was designed to test more than raw ability. Many of you believed reaching the finish line was the challenge."
He paused.
"You were wrong."
A murmur swept through the cadets.
> "The real test was whether you could control your Acarna. The Gravity Stones absorb energy. Too little, and you cannot lift them. Too much—and they drain you dry."
"Fifteen of you collapsed not from the stone's weight—but from their own lack of control."
Kael stood silently among the successful cadets. His face calm, but inside, he processed every word.
So that was it. Control was the measure all along.
He recalled the instructor's words before the phase began. The hints were there. But most had missed them.
Even his group—the one that had completed the run and reached the 250-meter marker—had misunderstood the full scope. They thought that was the end.
But it wasn't.
The instructor continued:
> "Those who reached the 250-meter mark were told to return to the start—stone in hand. Many of you were surprised it felt easier the second time. That's because the stone, having absorbed the ideal amount of energy, no longer interfered with the field's intensity. It shielded you."
Kael now understood why the return run had felt so strangely light.
The cadets who passed had unconsciously struck a balance—not too much, not too little. Enough to lift, but not enough to ruin themselves.
Then came Ryn's group.
Kael turned his gaze toward the pathway entrance as the next batch of cadets prepared for their turn.
Ryn stood at the edge, looking... unmotivated. Slouched. Detached.
But then, luck—or fate—favored him.
He was assigned to retrieve Kael's stone.
The one that had already drunk deeply from Kael's nearly bottomless well of energy.
Ryn walked up to it slowly, glancing at the others still struggling to lift their stones.
He reached down.
Lifted.
Nothing.
It came up like a crate of feathers.
His eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed. The realization hit him.
This one's already full…
He glanced up at the instructors, at the crowd, then began walking—slowly, almost lazily—through the crystal path. The others around him groaned and stumbled under their full-weight stones.
But Ryn moved easily. For once, not because he was stronger—but because of Kael.
He crossed the 250-meter mark second in his group. On his return, the stone felt heavier than before—the residual drain of the pathway catching up with him—but he gritted his teeth and pressed on.
He crossed the finish line, collapsing to one knee as he placed the stone back in its designated slot.
Still... he passed.
The test continued.
Eight more heats followed.
It was easier for those who unknowingly picked up the stones used by Kael and the other top cadets—stones already saturated with energy. The applicants didn't understand why their trials felt less harsh. They were just thankful.
At the end of the day, the numbers spoke for themselves.
Over 250 applicants had entered the arena that morning.
Only 65 remained.
Kael stood tall among them, his body tired but stable. Ryn leaned against the arena wall, eyes half-closed, breathing heavily but holding a slight smirk.
The exam wasn't over—but the line had been drawn.
The ones still standing were no longer hopefuls.
They were candidates.
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