Rain had grown used to the rhythms of the Grey Academy, but each day within its walls grew more complex.His quarters lay in the eastern wing, where noble-born students resided. It was more than a dormitory—it was a stage for tangled tensions between continents, each bearing its own legacy, culture, and hidden wars.
In the shared chamber, Rain often sat across from Philos of Nora—a land known for spiritual purity and strict discipline.Philos made no effort to hide his disdain for Rain's kind of power, which he called "tainted and twisted." In a cold, flat voice, he said:
"Beings like you don't deserve to study magic. You should be sealed in mud-cages.A power that feeds on pain is not healing… it's a plague."
As for Ramiel of Auron, he was quieter—but his eyes sharpened with hatred whenever the name "Darkol" was mentioned.One night, he whispered:
"Your armies killed my parents… don't expect respect from me."
In the lecture halls, the teachings were categorized by the type of magic:
• Physical Arts: Enhancing muscle and body strength—at the cost of spinal and neural strain.• Spiritual Magic: Focused on healing and purification—but left its users exposed to emotional collapse.• Elemental Forces: Lightning, fire, ice—each element reshaped the body differently. Ice slowed the heartbeat; lightning accelerated perception.• Consciousness Magic (Rare): Like Rain's. Taught only in theory, and monitored obsessively by the Academy's administration.
The Academy's hierarchy was rigid:Students had no direct access to the Headmaster. All guidance, announcements—even punishments—were relayed through instructors.
Among them:Professor Nevyera of Valen—cold as the ice she wielded.And Professor Kaltar of Auron—harsh, obsessed with mind magic and psychological deconstruction.
At the end of an intense week, all students were summoned to the Grand Training Arena.Dozens stood in silence, as grey winds howled above them. Suddenly, a deep voice echoed from an orb of magic above the main platform.Within it appeared the blurred visage of the High Overseer.
The announcement came, sharp and final:
"The Council of Ash declares that the first Differentiation Trial has come.It will be held three nights from now. Participants will be selected by instructor evaluations and council decision."
Murmurs swept the crowd. The tension was immediate.
A girl from Seir asked:
"The Ash Trial? Already?"
Another, from Nora, replied darkly:
"No one from Darkol ever survived it before… Will this outsider?"
Then came the list of chosen names.
Among them, one stood out in glowing script:Rain Darkolarin.
A hush froze the arena.
Philos laughed bitterly:
"Ash only consumes the carrion. I wonder how many seconds he'll last."
That night, on his balcony, Rain gazed up at the Academy sky, clouded with grey magical mist.A pulse echoed in his chest.Then a whisper from his shadow pierced the silence:
"The trial isn't to measure your strength…It's to reveal which wall breaks first:Your heart… or your chains."