The arena had gone silent for a moment after the battle. The spectators were eager to watch the next happenings in the selection.
Above them, high upon the ceremonial seats carved into the stone walls, the Masters sat: looming, watching, judging. Their eyes gleamed with power, pride, and expectation. From their elevated thrones, they stared down at the chosen few who had made it through the trials, each youth now standing in the center of the grand arena, backs straight and hearts pounding.
The sun filtered in from the open ceiling above, casting golden rays across the stone floor. Dust shimmered in the air, as if time itself had paused for this moment.
Roan stood among them, his breath was steady and eyes unwavering. His name had been whispered with awe through the trials, and now the whispers had turned into thunder. All the Masters had raised their hands when asked who wanted to recruit him.
It was unprecedented. But also a normal thing when you were a rising prodigy.
"Roan," one of the Masters called, his voice like a sharp chime against the silence, "You have been chosen by all the guilds. The choice is yours. Where do you belong?"
Roan stepped forward without hesitation, his shadow long beneath the midday sun. His voice rang out strong, clear. "I want to join the Radiant Guild—the strongest guild."
Gasps rippled through the arena. Even the Masters showed brief flickers of surprise.
The Radiant Guild was not simply the strongest. It was home to legends in the making. Among its ranks stood the Seven Emperors, Seven Emperors each known across the continent, and the famed Lightning Prodigy, a boy who could call storms with a flick of his fingers. Joining Radiant was to declare a path toward greatness, and endless pressure.
"So be it," the Master of the Radiant Guild declared, his silver robes billowing as he descended the stairs. "Roan, you will now follow us."
And so the others were divided one by one.
The Obsidian Guild received Ren, a boy with quick hands and a quiet mind. Along with him went several of the students who had failed to win their duels, bruised but still burning with potential. The Obsidian Guild had always been a place for those who sought redemption in the shadows.
The Ashen Guild took in many of the remaining victors, their group a mix of grit and adaptability. A balanced house, neither too bright nor too dark, known for shaping survivors into warriors.
The Dark Guild, cloaked in mystery, accepted several others who preferred silence and secrecy, their gazes unreadable. They left with their Master without a word, disappearing like smoke in wind.
Then came the Crimson Guild, and a hush followed their announcement.
Ten prodigies were chosen, ten unmatched talents who had carved through their trials with merciless efficiency. Not all of them had flair, but they had raw power. One by one, they were called, and each name felt like a hammer against the air. The Crimson Guild was where the strong thrived, and where the dangerous were refined.
When the ceremony ended, the students looked around one final time. Some smiled with relief, others held themselves tighter as the reality of their choices began to settle in.
And he would watch from afar.
He didn't know whether to feel proud or hollow.
Soon after, the new guild members were dismissed.
With their newly assigned uniforms and insignias, the students parted ways and followed their guild Masters toward their respective sanctuaries. Carriages lined the outer wall of the arena, each adorned with the colors of the guild they represented.
Roan stepped into the Radiant Guild carriage, his chest glowing with silent pride. The seats were velvet. The air was laced with magic. Beside him sat two of the Seven Emperors. They barely acknowledged him, but their eyes had already measured him once and deemed him worth noticing. That alone meant something.
"Let's go!" Shouted Klien. Then the new members of the guild soon followed. He immediately was his new teammates in the guild.
The other guild masters also followed suit in giving commands. They also left the arena with flare and commanding voice. They about faced and then their robes fluttered into their movements.
Their carriages were waiting for them. Ren saw that they were poor. A stark contrast to their carriages that were highly designed by intricacy and elegance. Some even adorned their carriages with gold and precious stones.
Elsewhere, Ren boarded a darker carriage, its obsidian trim catching what little sunlight remained. Around him were other students: nervous, hardened, or already closing their eyes to rest. Their guild house was located beyond the forest ridge, where light barely touched the windows, but where strength was forged in isolation.
They began their travels and all letter ways. Making Ren wanted to wave goodbyes to his friends. But to no avail, they already left. Making him sigh at the moment. Their departure was brief and short one. They did not even have time to say farewell.
The Ashen Guild's carriage rolled away with its group of calm, collected fighters. Their Masters spoke softly among themselves, already discussing training schedules and compatibility tests.
The Dark Guild had no carriage. Their students simply disappeared. No one even saw them leave.
As for the Crimson Guild, their ten prodigies rode on crimson carriage. They left with flair and power, letting everyone know they would not blend in. They were power incarnate, and their journey would be loud. Same with their new members.
By nightfall, the Guild Division Ceremony was over.
The arena stood empty once again, the banners still fluttering from the high walls. The names of the chosen would be etched into the walls by morning, written in magic for all future initiates to witness.
And though they had parted ways, each student carried with them the weight of the day...a truth that could not be ignored:
Their real journey had just begun...they parted ways but will see each other soon.