The sky over the village was pale by the time Jack opened his eyes.
There was no fanfare. Only the quiet weight of the morning pressing down through the cracked roof of the ruined hall. Dust floated in the thin light. Somewhere outside, Minny was already moving.
Jack sat up slowly. His body still carried the ache from five nights of training with Gordlock. His dark core sat steady now, no longer threatening to swallow the Qi pool beside it. But his mind would not settle.
Today was the recruitment.
Across the room, Minny was tying her hair back. She didn't speak when she saw him awake. She just gave him a small nod.
They found their mother and Grandma Neyney waiting beneath the old tree. No words were wasted. His mother pulled him into a hug that lingered, her hands smoothing over his shoulders.
"You've trained for this," she murmured against his hair. "Don't forget that."
Neyney came next. The old woman placed both hands on their heads. Her lips moved in a quiet blessing, and a faint warmth settled over Jack and Minny.
"Come back with your names on the list," Neyney said. That was all.
Jack and Minny left without looking back.
The recruitment area lay at the heart of the village. By the time they arrived, the square had already been claimed. White banners hung between stone pillars. The ground had been scrubbed clean. This was not a public gathering. Only nobles had been permitted to attend — the general, the house heads, the officials in their deep blue coats.
Participants were grouped into rows and told to wait.
The air was thick. Dozens of young men and women stood in neat lines, most of them from noble houses. Their uniforms were identical, but the way they carried themselves was not. Some whispered. Some stared straight ahead. Others shifted on their feet like they were trying to burn off nerves.
Jack let his eyes move over the crowd. Stanter stood near the front, arms folded, with Sly behind him like he always was. His expression was bored, but his shoulders were set. But Steve was missing.
Jack was about to turn away when a voice came from his side.
"Excuse me."
It was smooth. Practiced. Far too confident.
Jack turned.
The boy was tall, with dark hair combed back and a uniform that looked like it had never seen dirt. The crest on his chest was small, but the gold thread caught the light. He carried himself like the square belonged to him.
"Kevin Sherwin," he said, with a smile that had clearly worked on a lot of people. "Heir of the Sherwin house."
He didn't bow. He didn't need to. The name did it for him.
His gaze flicked to Minny for half a second, then back to Jack, as if measuring them both. There was curiosity there, but not malice.
"Didn't catch your names," he said.
There was something loud about him. The kind of person who filled a room without trying. Cocky, yes. But Jack didn't feel hostility from him. Only that strange, misplaced eagerness to be liked. To be in the conversation.
Jack studied him for a moment. "Jack," he said finally. "This is Minny."
Kevin's smile widened, like Jack had just given him something valuable. "Good to meet you both." He dropped his hand when Jack didn't take it, but he didn't seem offended. "Sherwin house has been in the academy for three generations. You two look new."
He said it lightly, but his eyes were sharp.
"Try not to embarrass yourselves in the first trial," Kevin added, glancing toward the center of the square. "I'd hate for it to be boring. The assessors are ruthless this year."
Minny didn't respond. Jack just gave a small nod.
'Who is this guy, he acts so cocky. How strong could he be, plus he is from the sherwin's house. Thier fisrt son is said to be one of the Kings Royal guard...such raw talent and am very sure he is also strong. Jack thought.
Kevin opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could, a shift ran through the crowd. The whispers died. The shifting stopped. Even the nobles on the platform straightened.
"Silence."
The word cut across the square like a blade.
A man stepped onto the raised platform. Broad shoulders. A scar running down the side of his jaw. His coat was dark, and the academy crest on his chest was stitched in silver.
He did not raise his voice. He didn't need to.
"I am Coordinator Lex," he said. His voice carried to every corner without effort. "And my comrades and I will oversee today's event."
The square was still now. Even the wind seemed to quiet.
Lex's eyes moved over the rows of participants, slow and assessing. He wasn't looking for faces. He was looking for weakness.
"This year's recruitment will follow the old structure," he said. "Knights and mages will be tested separately. As this is a knight's ceremony first, the first trial will be for them."
A murmur moved through the crowd, but it died the moment Lex lifted a hand.
He gestured. Several attendants stepped forward, pushing with all their weight. A massive, black boulder rolled onto the stone. It was twice the height of a man, its surface pitted and heavy. When it was set down, the ground beneath it groaned.
"This," Lex said, "is the Strength Test."
His gaze swept over them again.
"You will step forward one by one. Strike the boulder with everything you possess. The assessors will measure your performance and award points. There will be no second chances."
He let the words sit in the air, heavy and final.
"Let the trial begin."
---
The word hung in the air.
"Let the trial begin."
Nothing moved for a second. Then, from the side of the platform, a tall rectangular screen lit up with a pale blue glow. Runes crawled across its surface before settling into clear letters.
[PARTICIPANT SELECTION]
The screen spun. Names blurred past too fast to read. Murmurs rose from the rows, then died as the spinning slowed.
It stopped.
[LOGAN MUSK]
A tall boy stepped forward from the third row. Broad shoulders. Shaved head. His uniform fit him like armor.
He walked without looking at anyone. Confidence rolled off him in waves. He stopped three paces in front of the black boulder and rolled his neck once. The sound cracked across the square.
Logan drew in a breath, planted his feet, and drove his fist forward.
The impact was loud. A dull, heavy...boom echoed off the pillars. Dust jumped from the boulder's surface.
The boulder did not move. Not a crack. Not a shift.
Logan stared at it. Then at his knuckles.
'Huh. How is that possible. I used my full strength and it didn't even budge.' He thought.
The blue screen flickered.
[LOGAN MUSK] — 4 POINTS
Four.
His jaw tightened. He gave one short exhale through his nose and walked back to his line without a word.
Whispers started immediately. Four points, and the stone hadn't even moved?
One after another, the screen spun.
[ELISE VORN] — 3 POINTS
A girl with twin braids. Her strike was fast but light. The boulder ignored her.
[DREN HALE ] — 5 POINTS
A stocky boy who grunted on impact. The boulder trembled. That was all.
The points climbed, but slowly. No one broke 6. The assessors in their gray coats marked things down without expression. The nobles on the platform watched in silence.
Two more names were called. Two more participants stepped forward. One struck with a roar and earned 4 points. The other barely made the boulder shudder and left with 3. Neither left a mark.
Jack watched too. His hands stayed loose at his sides. Five days with Gordlock had taught him what real power felt like. This wasn't it.
Then the screen spun again and stopped.
[SLY RENN ] — 5 POINTS
Sly. Stanter's shadow. He stepped up, hit the boulder with a sharp, practiced strike, and got the same 5 as Dren. He walked back and took his place behind Stanter without looking at anyone.
The random selection continued with partipants moving on and off the stage with disappointment. Until suddenly...
The screen blurred immediately after and Slowed.
[STANTER VEL]
Stanter moved.
He didn't rush. He walked to the center like the space had been made for him. The nobles leaned forward slightly. Even Coordinator Lex's eyes lingered on him a second longer.
Stanter stopped in front of the boulder. He rolled his shoulders once, then turned his head.
His eyes found Jack's in the crowd.
The corner of his mouth curled. Not a smile.
A look that said it plainly:
'You are no match.'