Six months remained until departure.
Wei Chen stood in Instructor Feng's training lot at dawn, watching the Fire mage arrange weapons on a wooden rack. Not practice daggers this time — real steel. Short swords. Throwing knives. A chain whip that looked more like torture device than weapon.
Feng's burn scars were more visible in the morning light — the left side of his face and arm marked by old wounds that hadn't healed cleanly. Wei Chen had never asked about them, and Feng had never volunteered the story. But the scars spoke of survival, of battles fought and lessons learned the hard way.
"Shadow Sanctuary's entrance exam has three components," Feng said without preamble. "Combat assessment. Survival trial. Psychological evaluation. You need to excel at all three to gain admission."
Wei Chen approached the weapon rack, studying the unfamiliar implements.
"Combat assessment is straightforward — you fight current students or instructors. They test technique, creativity, and willingness to use lethal force." Feng picked up one of the short swords. "You'll be fine there. Your Shadow Blade technique is developing well, and your improvisational style will surprise examiners used to traditional approaches."
He set down the sword and moved to a map pinned to the training lot's fence. It showed wilderness terrain — forests, rivers, mountains.
"Survival trial is where most candidates fail. They drop you in hostile territory with minimal supplies and give you three days to reach a checkpoint. Magical beasts hunt you. Environmental hazards threaten you. Other candidates may attack you if they think eliminating competition improves their chances."
"So trust no one."
"Exactly. Darkness magic gives you advantages here — concealment, stealth, fear tactics. Use them." Feng tapped the map. "But you'll also need practical survival skills. Fire-starting without magic. Water purification. Wound treatment. Navigation. I'm going to teach you all of it."
He turned to face Wei Chen directly. "The psychological evaluation is hardest to prepare for. They test your limits. Push you until you break down or prove resilient enough to continue. Some candidates are tortured. Some are given impossible moral choices. Some face their deepest fears made manifest through illusion magic."
"How do I prepare for that?"
"You can't. Not really. But you can develop mental resilience. Learn to compartmentalize pain. Accept that temporary failure isn't the same as permanent defeat." Feng's scarred face held something like sympathy. "The evaluation isn't about never faltering. It's about what you do after you falter. Whether you give up or keep going."
Training intensified immediately.
Feng taught fire-starting using friction and tinder. Wei Chen's hands blistered within an hour, but by day's end he could create spark and flame without magic. Not fast — three minutes of effort — but functional.
They practiced water purification using boiling, cloth filters, and basic alchemical tablets Feng procured from somewhere. Wei Chen learned to identify safe water sources versus contaminated ones.
Navigation was harder. Feng taught stellar navigation, landmark recognition, and dead reckoning. Wei Chen struggled initially — his mind preferred concrete numbers to relative positions — but gradually adapted.
"In the wilderness, everything wants to kill you," Feng explained during a rest break. "Beasts. Environment. Other candidates. Your own body if you're not careful. Magic helps, but magic runs out. Skills don't."
They sparred differently now too. Instead of controlled exchanges, Feng created scenarios. Ambush situations. Multiple opponents. Fighting while injured or exhausted. Wei Chen learned to think tactically, not just technically.
"Shadow Sanctuary doesn't want students who can only fight when conditions are perfect," Feng said after a particularly brutal session where he'd attacked Wei Chen from behind without warning. "They want survivors. People who adapt, improvise, overcome. Pretty technique means nothing if you're dead."
Elder Shen's private lessons focused on different preparation.
"The Sanctuary values magical control above raw power," Elder Shen explained during their first session dedicated specifically to entrance exam preparation. "An intermediate-level mage with Master-level sub-magic mastery is more valuable than an Advanced-level mage with poor control."
He demonstrated complex shadow manipulation — weaving multiple tendrils simultaneously while maintaining individual control of each. "You're at seventy percent sub-magic mastery. Impressive for your age. But Sanctuary applicants average sixty-five percent. You need to distinguish yourself."
"How?"
"By pushing toward Grandmaster level. Eighty percent mastery. That puts you in the top five percent of applicants." Elder Shen's eyes were serious. "It's achievable in six months, but requires dedication bordering on obsession. You'll practice until your core aches constantly. Until shadows respond to thought rather than conscious effort."
Wei Chen nodded. "I can do that."
"I know you can. The question is whether you should." Elder Shen sat down, gesturing for Wei Chen to do the same. "There's a danger in pushing too hard. Magic burnout. When a mage overextends their core repeatedly, it can damage their potential permanently. You could plateau at intermediate level forever. Or worse, lose magic entirely."
"What's the risk percentage?"
"Perhaps five percent if you push aggressively but intelligently. Ten percent if you're reckless." Elder Shen's gaze was steady. "Is reaching Grandmaster sub-magic mastery worth that risk?"
Wei Chen calculated. Five percent chance of permanent damage versus significantly improved entrance exam performance. The math was clear — the risk was acceptable.
"Yes."
"Then we begin intensive training. But you must promise to stop if I tell you to stop. My assessment of your limits is better than yours. Agreed?"
"Agreed."
Wei Chen's schedule became intense.
Dawn to mid-morning — Feng's survival and combat training. Mid-morning to afternoon — Elder Shen's magical theory and intensive shadow manipulation practice. Afternoon to evening — Merchant Liu's stall work, maintaining income and business skills. Evening to night — solo practice, pushing toward Grandmaster mastery.
Eight hours of sleep, non-negotiable. Wei Chen had learned from Feng that recovery was as important as training. "Your body builds strength during rest, not during work," Feng had said. "Soldiers who don't sleep properly die faster than those who train less but rest well."
The recovery cloak helped too. Between proper sleep and the enchantment's stamina regeneration, Wei Chen could maintain the brutal schedule without collapsing.
But it was still exhausting. Every day felt like running uphill. Every week pushed him closer to his limits.
Lian Xiu noticed the intensity.
"You're training like you're trying to become a god," she said, finding Wei Chen behind the market during a brief rest period between sessions.
Wei Chen looked up from the shadow manipulation exercise he'd been practicing. "Maybe I am."
"What?"
"Not literally. But I want to be the best. Not just competent. Not just good enough. The best." Wei Chen's voice held quiet intensity. "Everyone at Shadow Sanctuary will be talented. Most will be richer than me, better connected, with more resources. So I need to be more skilled. More prepared. More willing to push limits."
Lian Xiu sat beside him. "That's different from what you used to say. You used to talk about catching up to others. Now you're talking about surpassing everyone."
"Because that's what I want. Not to be equal. To be superior." Wei Chen met her eyes. "Is that wrong?"
"It's ambitious. Borderline arrogant." She smiled slightly. "But I think you might actually pull it off. You've got that scary focus thing going on."
"Scary focus?"
"Yeah. Like you've decided something and reality just has to catch up." Lian Xiu studied him with her sharp perception. "Just don't forget to be human while you're becoming whatever you're trying to become."
"I won't. I have people who keep me grounded." Wei Chen gestured at her. "Like friends who call me arrogant to my face."
"Someone has to."
Three months into intensive preparation, Wei Chen's body sent him a warning.
He was practicing shadow manipulation — pushing toward the eightieth percentile of Grandmaster mastery — when his core simply... stopped responding. Not depleted. Not exhausted. Just unresponsive, like a muscle that refused to contract.
Wei Chen tried again. Nothing. His shadows remained inert, unmoving.
Panic flared. He pushed harder, reaching deeper into his core, pulling at the magic that should be there.
Pain exploded through his chest — sharp, burning, wrong. Wei Chen gasped and released his attempt immediately. The pain faded but didn't disappear entirely. A dull ache remained, pulsing with each heartbeat.
He sat down heavily, breathing carefully. This was new. Concerning.
Wei Chen went to Elder Shen immediately.
The old mage examined him with practiced efficiency — checking pulse, assessing magical flow, asking detailed questions about symptoms and training intensity.
Finally, Elder Shen sat back. "Magic strain. You've overtaxed your core."
"Is it permanent?"
"No. But it could become permanent if you continue pushing at this pace." Elder Shen's voice was stern. "I told you I would monitor your limits. You're at them. Any further and you risk real damage."
Wei Chen felt frustration war with relief. Not permanent damage. But forced to slow down when time was limited.
"How long until I recover?"
"Two weeks of minimal magic use. Light practice only — basic manipulation, no intensive training. Your core needs time to repair." Elder Shen's gaze was sharp. "And Wei Chen? This is non-negotiable. If you ignore this warning and permanently damage your potential, Shadow Sanctuary won't accept you regardless of your preparation. They don't want broken mages."
"Understood."
"Good. Go home. Rest. Actually rest — that means maintaining your eight hours of sleep and doing minimal practice only." Elder Shen's tone softened slightly. "You have six months total, three months remaining now. Losing two weeks to recovery is not catastrophic. Losing your magic permanently would be."
Wei Chen told Feng about the magic strain the next morning.
The instructor's reaction was surprisingly calm. "Not unexpected. You've been pushing hard for three months. Most mages would have burned out sooner."
"What?"
"Your sleep discipline kept you going longer than I expected. Eight hours nightly, proper nutrition, recovery cloak — you've been smart about the fundamentals. But even smart training has limits." Feng gestured to the training lot. "Two weeks mandatory rest from intensive training. But we can still work on other things."
"Like what?"
"Mental preparation. Strategy. Studying Sanctuary history and philosophy." Feng produced a stack of books and scrolls Wei Chen hadn't seen before. "Physical training burns out your body. Magical training burns out your core. But studying? That you can do while resting."
The books covered Shadow Sanctuary's founding, notable graduates, training methodologies, and — most valuable — detailed accounts of previous entrance exams.
Wei Chen devoured them.
He learned that the Sanctuary was founded three hundred years ago by a Darkness mage rejected by every traditional sect. The founder, Master Hei, believed Darkness magic was misunderstood and deliberately suppressed by societies that valued Light and Water elements.
The Sanctuary's philosophy was simple — Darkness magic is not evil, merely practical. Concealment is not cowardice, merely strategy. Assassination is not murder, merely efficiency.
Their graduates became legendary. Some joined royal courts as spymasters. Others became independent operators commanding premium rates. A few disappeared entirely, their work too sensitive to acknowledge publicly.
The entrance exam changed every year, but patterns emerged. Combat assessments favored adaptability over raw power. Survival trials tested mental resilience as much as physical capability. Psychological evaluations looked for students who could recover from setbacks — flexible rather than brittle.
Wei Chen took notes obsessively. Every piece of information was potential advantage.
Merchant Liu visited during Wei Chen's mandatory rest period.
"Heard you strained your core," Liu said, settling into the chair across from Wei Chen in the family's small living room. "Shows you've been pushing appropriately hard."
"It wasn't intentional."
"The best growth rarely is. You push until something gives, then you learn where the actual limit is." Liu pulled out his ledger — he always had his ledger. "I wanted to talk about finances. Three months until you leave. Your savings are around 250 silver, correct?"
"Yes."
"Shadow Sanctuary tuition is ten gold per year for the first year. Twenty gold total upfront — that's 2,000 silver." Liu tapped numbers. "You're earning well, but even at current rates you'll have maybe 350 silver by departure. Still 1,650 silver short."
Wei Chen had known this but hearing it stated plainly was still discouraging.
"I have a proposal," Liu continued. "I fund the shortfall. Sixteen gold fifty silver. You repay me over your first three years after Sanctuary graduation — twenty-two gold total. Ten percent annual interest, compounded."
Wei Chen calculated quickly. An extra five gold fifty silver in interest. Steep, but fair for merchant rates.
"And?" Wei Chen asked. Liu's smile suggested there was more.
"And you owe me three favors. Jobs I can call in during those three years. Nothing that violates your sect obligations or risks your life unnecessarily, but tasks that require a skilled Darkness mage." Liu's eyes gleamed. "Retrieval work. Security consultation. Intimidation when necessary. The kind of jobs Shadow Sanctuary graduates excel at."
"So you're buying future services at a discount."
"Exactly. I'm investing in your training and securing access to your skills." Liu tapped his ledger. "Twenty-two gold repayment plus three jobs. In return, you get full tuition funding and I get a trained operative I can trust. Fair trade."
Pure Merchant Liu — turning a loan into a business arrangement that benefited him more than simple interest would.
But it was also completely fair. Wei Chen would be worth far more than twenty-two gold after graduation. Liu knew it. Wei Chen knew it.
"Agreed," Wei Chen said. "But I want it in writing. Contract with clear terms. Job scope defined. Refusal conditions specified."
"Naturally." Liu looked pleased. "Never accept verbal agreements for significant money. And never accept vague obligations. I taught you well."
Two weeks passed slowly.
Wei Chen studied. Rested. Practiced light shadow manipulation to keep skills sharp without straining his core. The enforced rest was frustrating but necessary.
His sleep remained consistent — eight hours nightly, no exceptions. Feng had drilled into him that recovery was training too, just invisible training. "Your body repairs damage during sleep. Your core regenerates reserves during rest. Skip either and you're sabotaging yourself."
By the end of the second week, the ache in his chest had faded completely. His magic responded normally — not enhanced, but no longer painful.
Elder Shen examined him again and nodded approval. "Recovered. You may resume intensive training, but with modifications. We're implementing mandatory rest days. Two days per week, you do minimal practice only. No arguments."
Wei Chen wanted to argue but recognized the futility. "Understood."
"Good. Now let's see if you learned anything during your forced study period."
The resumption of training felt different. Wei Chen was more aware of his limits now, more strategic about intensity management. The fear of permanent damage was real — more real than abstract danger had ever been.
But he also felt more focused. Two weeks of studying Sanctuary philosophy and history had given him context. He wasn't just preparing physically and magically. He was preparing mentally for what Shadow Sanctuary actually represented.
A place where Darkness magic was celebrated rather than feared. Where practical efficiency trumped honorable tradition. Where survivors became masters and failures became cautionary tales.
Three months until departure.
Wei Chen looked at his reflection in his mother's mirror. Eight and a half years old. Taller than three months ago but still small. Scarred from training. Shadows moving slightly out of sync with his body even when he wasn't consciously controlling them.
He looked dangerous. He looked driven.
He looked like someone who wanted to surpass everyone, not just survive.
And maybe — just maybe — that ambition would be enough to carry him through what came next.