I woke before sunrise, nerves humming with the memory of Cassandra's warning and Mireille's promise to train me. The campus was veiled in silver mist, the cobblestones slippery and echoing under my hurried steps. Every window of Arclight Academy glowed a faint yellow, but most students were still deep in their beds, unaware that today would be different.
The training grounds were already occupied. Mireille stood with her sword drawn, practicing a slow, precise kata. She glanced up at my approach—not annoyed, but expectant.
"You're on time. Good."
She handed me a practice sword, heavier and less forgiving than yesterday's. "You're stronger than you let on. Stop holding back—you're not invisible here."
If only she knew just how true that was.
I set my stance, the early chill sharpening my senses. Our duel began, blades clashing dully in the empty yard. I counted each step, recalled every feint described in the source novel, and forced myself not to flinch. Mireille moved with crisp efficiency, pushing me further each round.
"Don't anticipate—react," she snapped, blocking my clumsy lunge with flawless grace. "You hesitate every time I look at you. What are you afraid of?"
She pressed harder, and for a moment, a smile flickered at the edge of her lips—almost approving. "You're learning."
A bell echoed from the tower. The trial was near.
The Gathering Storm
After a quick wash and a change into the traditional dark-green academy uniform, I joined the throngs heading toward the stadium. The atmosphere was buzzing—students whispered, nobles boasted, professors watched from the edges like anxious hawks.
Today's event was legendary: the First Year Assessment, a series of unpredictable magical and martial trials designed to reveal both talent and mettle. Those who failed could expect a term of humiliation; those who excelled, rare privileges and immediate notoriety.
Cassandra found me by the entryway. "Remember what I said: don't trust outsiders. And don't let anyone split you from the main group, no matter what."
Her tone brooked no argument. I nodded, barely swallowing my nerves.
Inside, the arena shimmered with veiled magic—runes inscribed on every column, banners trailing with enchanted light. Liora and Elane arrived together, the former nearly invisible in the crowd, the latter clutching her notes with white-knuckled anxiety.
Seraphina swept in last, grinning as if the whole spectacle existed for her personal amusement.
"There you are, Riven!" She pressed a small charm into my palm. "For luck. It might not be legal, so… don't use it unless you're desperate."
Trial by Fire
The headmaster's voice boomed across the stadium. "You will face three challenges. Pass or fail—what happens inside will shape your future at Arclight."
Station one was a test of magical acuity: identifying and redirecting an unstable spell orb. The air crackled with energy as nervy students stepped forward, palms raised. When my turn came, I forced focus—remembering only what I'd once read about the sequence. Sweat pooled at my brow. I barely managed to redirect the spell, earning a polite—if surprised—clap from the instructor.
Next came physical trials: an obstacle course littered with moving platforms, whirling dummies, and magical traps. Mireille cheered with silent, icy approval; Cassandra watched, arms crossed, refusing to let any challenger near me. Elane's eyes were huge as she scribbled frantic encouragement on a tiny slip of paper and held it up for only me to see.
I made it through—by the skin of my teeth and more than a little luck.
The final trial was teamwork: groups chosen at random, dumped into a shifting labyrinth, forced to cooperate under duress. Of course, my team included all five heroines. The proctor didn't even bother hiding his bemusement.
"That's… quite the gathering. Good luck."
Inside the maze, walls shifted as soon as we entered. Seraphina plotted escape routes, Mireille broke through obstacles with calculated force, Cassandra guarded our flank, Liora read the runes, and Elane hovered close, the quiet center of the group.
Periodically, they argued—softly, but with barbed urgency—over direction, strategy, and how best to "protect" me. I mostly listened, tried to mediate, and watched in awe as they dismantled every challenge, often with alarming efficiency.
After what felt like hours, we emerged into the sunlight—our group first by several minutes. The applause was thunderous, a storm of recognition that left me momentarily stunned.
I'd survived the first trial. More than survived—I'd become the focus.
In the Spotlight
As the dust settled, the crowd buzzed with my name. I caught snippets—rumors spinning taller with each retelling. "Ulric's group finished first." "Wasn't he a nobody?" "Why are the heroines orbiting him?"
The questions piled up. So did the stares.
That night, alone in my room, I realized there was no going back. I was center stage now—whether I wanted it or not. And through every moment, every thought, those five pairs of ears heard it all.
Even as I drifted toward sleep, a shiver ran through me.
Tomorrow would be another fight—and not all battles at Arclight required swords or spells.
[End of Chapter 6]