The sprawling grounds of the academy, Ecliptic Aetherium, were alive with a peculiar tension. The air shimmered faintly as the first rays of a metaphysical sun bathed the outer plains in a spectrum that no mortal eye could fully comprehend. Eight hundred candidates had gathered—each bearing the potential to ascend into the ranks of the masters, yet all painfully aware that failure was not merely a loss of prestige, but a risk of erasure from their own reality.
At the heart of the grounds stood the Trial Arena, an immense circular plane suspended in midair, its edges fading into infinity. Beyond it, the layered structures of the academy stretched upward, not merely towers or halls but intricate constructs interwoven with the metaphysical laws of Nax itself. Within these structures, the whispers of previous masters' successes and failures lingered as both warning and inspiration.
Among the eight hundred, several drew attention not by their posturing but by their raw aura.
Hayato Kurayami – A Class B candidate, aloof and stoic, his aura pulsing faintly like a distant storm. Hayato's personality was as calculating as it was cold, always measuring the others, his mind always three steps ahead. A small smirk played on his lips, barely noticeable, whenever he caught the hesitation of a peer.
Rika Amaterasu – Radiating warmth and overwhelming confidence, Rika had already been flagged as a Class S potential despite being in the inner trials. Her style was flamboyant, almost theatrical, yet her strength was undeniable. She laughed easily, teasing others even as she analyzed them with sharp, piercing eyes.
Shunji Takeda – The wildcard. Unpredictable, chaotic energy, constantly moving, muttering to himself in a rhythm that seemed nonsensical to others. Some suspected he understood the metaphysical nature of the academy on an intuitive level, giving him an edge that others envied but couldn't predict.
Akemi Hoshino – Quiet, observant, and fiercely disciplined. She spoke rarely but when she did, her words carried weight. Her training in multiple dimensions of combat and control over abstract metaphysical energy made her a favorite among the inner circles of faculty, though she remained humble and reserved.
Kojiro Inoue – Energetic, brash, and a little reckless. He sought attention and craved recognition. Some doubted him, others despised him—but those who witnessed his growth in raw skill understood he was a candidate not to be underestimated.
The remaining candidates varied widely: scholars of metaphysics, warriors attuned to the laws of the cosmos, tacticians who could manipulate causality on minor scales, and mages whose spells bent reality itself. Each had a glimmer of potential, and each would be tested against both their own limits and the unyielding nature of the academy's trials.
A bell rang—a sound not bound by mere acoustics, but a pulse that resonated directly with the metaphysical plane itself. The candidates stepped forward. Floating spheres appeared in the arena, each corresponding to a candidate. These spheres weren't mere objects—they contained microcosms of challenges specifically tuned to their abilities and weaknesses.
Hayato approached his sphere first. A calm, steady voice echoed inside his mind, setting the parameters: "You will face an opponent that adapts to your every action. Outwit, outmaneuver, or be destroyed." The sphere erupted in energy, pulling him inside.
Meanwhile, Rika's sphere shimmered with prismatic light. Creatures composed of pure law and chaos emerged, testing her adaptability. She laughed, twirling her staff as beams of energy collided with her from every angle, effortlessly redirecting attacks with a smirk.
Shunji's sphere was erratic—shifting landscapes, laws constantly bending. Gravity inverted, time slowed then sped up, and abstract entities formed and dissolved in seconds. Shunji leaped and rolled, muttering numbers and formulas, predicting the shifts almost instinctively.
By mid-morning, the academy grounds were a chaotic symphony. Some candidates failed outright, dissipating into metaphysical ash as their consciousnesses were safely returned by the academy's safety matrix—an automated safeguard meant to prevent permanent death. Others thrived, showcasing powers that rivaled seasoned masters.
Akemi moved with precision, each strike of her weapon slicing through the very fabric of the training space, reshaping the laws momentarily as she demonstrated mastery over both space and causality. Kojiro, unpredictable as ever, harnessed sheer force and luck, clashing with abstract constructs that sought to mimic the laws of reality itself.
The academy's instructors—author candidates with centuries of knowledge—watched carefully. They whispered among themselves, noting the exceptional and discussing potential pairings for future mentorship.
One of the instructors, Takuma Senju, a sharp-tongued and cynical man with silver hair streaked with violet, whispered to his counterpart:
"Do you see that one? The boy with the red-orange aura? He's going to cause a headache for the masters next year."
His counterpart, a serene woman named Miyako Aihara, chuckled softly.
"Yes, but his instincts are raw. He'll have to learn control first."
The academy's structure was layered and deliberate:
Class C: Outer Class – Novices. Tested on fundamental mastery of metaphysical principles and raw power application.
Class B: Inner Class – Intermediate candidates. Expected to manipulate reality with a degree of finesse, showcasing both intellect and instinct.
Class A: Upper Class – Advanced candidates. Able to influence abstract laws directly.
Class S: Master Class – Elite candidates. Those who could rival author candidates themselves with proper guidance.
The trial was designed to filter not only skill but philosophy and temperament. Strength alone was insufficient; understanding the consequences of their actions, reading metaphysical principles, and surviving environments that literally defied logic were crucial.
As the trials progressed, tensions and rivalries formed. Hayato, calculating as ever, found Rika's theatrical style both irritating and impressive. "How do you maintain focus in the middle of chaos?" he muttered under his breath, narrowly dodging a barrage of metaphysical shards.
Rika smirked, twirling her staff. "Oh, darling, focus is boring. You gotta feel it, ride it, live it!"
Shunji rolled past them both, muttering, "Focus… chaos… both are same if you listen closely…"
The first wave of candidates began to rise in rank, showcasing their potential to move to higher classes. Observers in the outer tiers of the academy began noting those who might one day contend for the inner circles and beyond.
As the sun of the metaphysical plane arced overhead, candidates were already exhausted, yet the true test had only begun. Some had yet to awaken latent abilities tied to the metaphysical laws, while others found themselves pushed to thresholds they hadn't known existed.
Above the arena, unseen by the candidates, small observers—Lucien's clones—watched and reported, their own consciousness intertwined with the training grounds. They marveled at the raw potential, making silent notes about which individuals might later serve a greater purpose, or perhaps challenge even them one day.
The Trial of Rising Stars was only the beginning. Eight hundred individuals, each a seed of potential, each destined for greatness—or obliteration. The stage was set, the arena alive with chaos and possibility, and somewhere beyond the metaphysical plane, even Lucien's presence influenced the very laws subtly, ensuring that the next generation of candidates would be forged under perfect conditions.
As the day drew to a close, one of the spheres in the arena—the one containing a young girl named Miyuki Hoshigami, a Class C candidate—began to pulsate violently. Her aura was unlike anything the academy had recorded. Even the author candidates paused to observe.
A low hum resonated across the arena. The laws inside her sphere bent, twisted, and nearly shattered. She opened her eyes, glowing with a strange light, and whispered words no one understood…
And somewhere, far beyond the arena, the fabric of the metaphysical plane shivered ever so slightly.
The trial had truly begun.