The next morning, the air in the capital was different—thicker, humming with anticipation. Streets were lined with curious citizens, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the young men and women streaming toward the castle gates. Each carried a small satchel and wore a nervous determination in their eyes.
Alexander adjusted the strap of his bag, Fenrir trotting beside him like a silent shadow. The wolf's piercing eyes drew more than a few startled gasps from onlookers, but Alexander ignored them. He had bigger things on his mind—the probation grounds awaited.
Lyra walked at his side, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp, scanning the crowd with quiet curiosity.
"Think it'll be as hard as they say?" she asked.
Alexander smirked. "If it isn't, I'll be disappointed."
The towering gates of the castle courtyard opened with a slow groan, revealing a wide path that wound through manicured gardens and toward a massive stone arena. But this was no arena for games—it stretched far beyond the eye could see, its walls high and bristling with watchtowers. It was a contained world of its own.
Inside, the probation grounds spread like a miniature kingdom—fields, forests, obstacle courses, training pits, and even a sprawling mock village for combat simulations. Soldiers stood in formation along the pathways, their polished armor glinting under the sun.
A tall man with iron-gray hair and the bearing of a seasoned warrior stepped forward. His voice boomed across the space, cutting through the chatter like a blade.
"I am Commander Kael Dravane, and for the next forty days, I will decide whether you are worthy to wear the crest of the First Response Team."
The crowd of candidates—easily over a hundred—fell silent.
Kael paced slowly, his gaze like steel. "You have heard the rumors. You know why we are here. Ashborn's reincarnation is no mere tale for children—it is a truth we can no longer ignore. When the shadows rise again, the kingdom will not wait for reinforcements. We will need warriors who can think, act, and survive without hesitation."
He pointed toward the training fields behind him. "This probation period will test every part of you—strength, mind, endurance, and spirit. Fail to meet the daily standards, and you will be escorted out before the sun sets. Only twelve will remain when this is over. Those twelve will train for two years and become the kingdom's shield."
A ripple of unease passed through the candidates, but Alexander's blood raced with excitement.
"Your accommodation," Kael continued, gesturing toward a long row of stone barracks along the edge of the grounds, "will be simple and shared. You will eat what you earn, and you will sleep when your work is done. If you wish to survive these forty days, you will need more than skill—you will need each other."
The gates behind them shut with a resounding clang, sealing the probation grounds from the outside world.
Lyra shot Alexander a sideways glance. "Well," she murmured, "no turning back now."
Alexander grinned, his hand brushing the hilt of his practice sword. "Wouldn't want to anyway."
Fenrir growled low, as if sensing the challenge ahead. The sound sent a thrill through Alexander's chest.
The probation had begun.