The moment those words fell, the red-haired fat man's face darkened.
"You ungrateful bumpkin—don't pretend you've lost your memory. I heard Redstone Village's been dissolved. The outer defense lines have withdrawn. You're all just abandoned strays now, aren't you? That's why you're clinging to those cattle-raising savages, right?"
Wayne's face turned crimson, his fists clenched tight. Rod, meanwhile, just blinked in confusion. Is this guy insane? He's the one who called himself "Dung," and now he's mad about it?
Still, Rod had always been cautious — steady in action, never impulsive.It would be foolish to make enemies before even entering the academy.
So he stood up, smiled, and said calmly, "You're right — a wild dog, a barbarian, and Dung make a perfect trio. Sounds like we'll get along just fine."
He extended his hand. The red-haired fat man, however, took it as mockery and lunged at him.
Rod sidestepped neatly. The man tripped over a bench and slammed face-first into the floor.
The noise drew several curious glances.
"You all saw that!" Rod raised his hands high. "I didn't touch him. He tripped on his own."
The fat man scrambled up, fuming, when the blonde girl, Cassandra, shouted from across the hall,"If you start fighting again, I'll call the priests!"
That worked instantly. The fat man glared at them both, spat, "You'll regret this," and stormed off.
Silence hung for a while before chatter returned.
Rod set the bench upright and sat back down, muttering, "That guy's got issues. He called himself Dung, I repeated it, and now he's mad. What a waste of time."
Wayne looked at him as if beholding a hero — then remembered his "memory loss" and quickly explained,"Rod, it's not the word, it's the pronunciation. His name's Hablin. You nasalized it — made it sound like Dung. And Manolobana is a high noble family. That means he's got connections everywhere — priests, officers, military, even the Flame Order."
Rod raised an eyebrow. "What about the Office of Inquisition? He got ties there too?"
Wayne flinched. "Why'd you bring that up? The Inquisition's under the New King himself. No one interferes with them."
"The New King?" Rod asked. "What happened to the Old one?"
Wayne hesitated. "The Old King has long returned to the Sacred Flame. The New King's ruled for over a decade now... though his laws are quite different. That's why some still call him 'New.'"
Rod was about to ask more when a deep horn sounded in the distance.The hum of the hall fell silent.
Everyone rose — the final trial was about to begin.
Faces went pale. Only Cassandra strode forward boldly, and the others instinctively followed her into the main hall.
It was a vast chamber, solemn and oppressive, carved with intricate patterns and towering statues.At the center stood a massive golden chalice, blazing with holy fire.
Beside it sat an old man in crimson robes, his face lined like cracked parchment. He seemed asleep.
Around him stood several priests in red cloaks. One announced,"When the High Priest calls your name, step forward. Place your right hand upon the Chalice. Do not remove it until instructed."
Rod stared at the sacred flame, a twinge of dread in his chest.
Wayne whispered, "Do you think it'll burn?"
"Only monsters feel the burn," sneered Hablin nearby. "You really don't know that, hill rat?"
Wayne flushed. "But… it looks hot."
"Reynes of Iron Cross Street," called the High Priest.
A short redhead dashed up and pressed his palm to the chalice.The metal glowed, but didn't harm him. After half a minute, his body ignited — crimson flames licked across his skin like a flowing cloak.
"Excellent," said the priest. "Your soul burns hot — dry tinder easily lit. You'll make a fine Flame Wielder."
Reynes beamed as he was led aside.
"Lir Eagle-Eye, of Hammer Street."Another boy stepped up. His fire took longer to appear, but it did.
"Good. You may stand down."
"Frank of Mushroom Town."A tall, thin youth placed his hand on the chalice.Time passed — no fire came.
Just as everyone thought he had failed, the priest said gently,"Not bad. Your soul's a bit… damp. But the Chalice has left a spark within you. With effort, you'll still make a capable fighter. Think of Alan."
Frank nearly burst into tears and fled, sobbing with relief.
The waiting youths exhaled together, smiling nervously.
But their relief was short-lived.Soon, the first true failure appeared — he refused to leave, wailing as he was dragged away.Then came the second, the third...
When the fourth approached, tragedy struck.
He was a small dark-haired boy. The moment he touched the chalice, he yanked his hand back, screaming as if scalded.
All eyes turned toward him. Two priests rushed forward and pinned him down.
The High Priest raised a frail hand. A spark of flame leapt from the Chalice and swept over the boy's body.
"Corruption runs deep," murmured the priest. He drew a red orb from his sleeve. "Eat this."
"No—no!" The boy screamed, "Why me? I didn't do anything! Please! My father died in the mines! My mother was eaten by ghouls! When I found her, half her body was gone—she still clutched her coin pouch! I had to break her fingers to take it! I'm their hope—I can't die! I can't!"
He thrashed wildly.
"Do you want to become a monster?" thundered the priest.
The boy froze, trembling. "My ashes…" he whispered, "can they rest in the Guardian Flame? In our village's fire?"
"They can."
He snatched the orb and swallowed it whole.A moment later, fire burst from within him, consuming him to ash.
A red box was brought forth. The priest collected the ashes and carried them away.
The ceremony went on in utter silence.
Rod's heart pounded in his throat. He felt a terrible foreboding, but there was no turning back.
At last, the High Priest spoke again:"Rod of Redstone Village."
At that moment, Rod felt strangely calm.
He drew a deep breath, stepped forward, and pressed his hand to the chalice.
It was hot.A sharp pain shot through his palm like a thousand needles. He clenched his jaw and stood still, unflinching.
Minutes passed. The High Priest stirred, opened his cloudy eyes, and looked at Rod — a flicker of doubt in his gaze.
Rod's heart raced. If the priest sensed something wrong, no amount of acting would save him.
Then—
A deafening roar echoed from outside.
The High Priest sprang up. Though his body was frail and bent, a crushing aura radiated from him — Rod felt as if a giant now loomed before him.
BOOM!Another explosion. The hall's fires went out, leaving only the Chalice's faint red glow.
"Stay where you are!" shouted a priest. "Whatever happens, no one leaves this hall!"
He flashed into a streak of light and vanished outside. The others, including the High Priest, were already gone.
Darkness swallowed the chamber.The apprentices huddled together, trembling.
Rod, however, quietly exhaled in relief.He melted into the crowd, already deciding that if things went wrong, he'd cut and run.
After a while, a man in white robes returned."Those who have passed the trial, follow me. The rest—stay put."
He began sorting them quickly.For some reason, Rod was pulled into the passing group.
Hablin shouted, "Archbishop! He didn't pass!"
Rod stiffened, ready to admit it—
But the Archbishop turned, eyes gleaming red, and barked, "Silence! Do not interfere!"
Hablin protested, "But I'm not lying! He failed—the High Priest didn't approve him!"
The Archbishop's expression turned dangerous."Hablin, if you dare deceive me again, I'll have you punished for heresy. Whatever personal grudges you have, leave them out of official duty. Those are our laws."
Hablin clamped his mouth shut, looking like he'd swallowed a pound of dirt.
No one spoke again.The Archbishop raised his hand. A white light engulfed them all—and in the next instant, they shot from the hall like a streaking star.