The moment of reckoning had arrived. As the last echoes of the illusionary battlefield faded, Instructor Valeris stood at the forefront of the gathered students, her voice cold and commanding.
"Those who can still move, follow me." Her words cut through the silence like a blade. "Those who cannot, you have failed."
Groans of pain, heavy breaths, and soft murmurs filled the air. Students who had barely made it through the illusion now struggled to rise. Some fought against their battered bodies, pushing themselves to their feet, unwilling to accept failure. Others, too drained or wounded in the illusion to move, slumped in resignation.
Dawn remained motionless at first. His body wasn't broken, but his mind was still ensnared by the past. That battlefield—it wasn't just an illusion for him. It was memory. A memory he had buried deep, only for it to resurface with a vengeance. His hands twitched as if reaching for something long gone, his breath unsteady. He had faltered in the beginning, frozen when the battlefield unfolded before him. The scent of blood, the cries of the dying, the weight of unspoken dread—it was all too familiar. He had seen that sight before, lived through it. And yet, in the end, he had emerged. Before he even knew how, his body had responded as if it had always belonged there.
His eyes flickered open, but he did not rise immediately. He lay there, feeling the weight of memories press against him. He had passed, hadn't he? He wasn't sure how the others had fared, but he knew the result. His body was unscathed. His mind, however, felt as if it had been ripped open.
While Dawn remained lost in thought, other students were reacting in their own ways. Gary had pushed himself upright, his noble pride refusing to allow weakness. Sweat dripped from his brow, but his stance was steady. His father's voice echoed in his mind, a reminder of what was expected of him. He could not afford to show weakness. Not here.
Luna, too, rose to her feet, her expression unreadable. For her, the battlefield had been a test of leadership. She had led imaginary soldiers, strategized amidst chaos, and fought with all her might. It had been grueling, but she had endured. She had to. For her people.
And then there were others—Cedric, the brute, staggering forward with sheer determination. Ingrid, the scholar, gasping for breath, yet her eyes alight with curiosity rather than fear. Each of them bore different experiences, different struggles, but the trial had left its mark on all.
Without waiting for stragglers, the instructors led the remaining students toward the next trial. Those left behind could only watch in silent despair as the group moved forward.
---
The academy grounds stretched before them, vast and imposing. At the center of a spacious field stood towering obelisks, their surfaces inscribed with intricate runes pulsing faintly with energy. Around them, various tools and apparatus were laid out, none of them resembling the weapons or training implements the students had expected. Instead, vials, syringes, and diagnostic tablets were carefully arranged in preparation.
Instructor Valeris turned to face them. "You have proven your mental resilience," she announced. "Now, we assess your physical potential."
One of the assistant instructors, a man with a sharp gaze, gestured to the obelisks. "The foundation of all strength is the body. Regardless of talent, if your body cannot endure, you will never reach the peak. These obelisks will evaluate your physique in its entirety—blood composition, bone density, muscular resilience, and celestial compatibility."
A murmur spread among the students. Most had never undergone such a test before. To be measured down to their very core—it was both exciting and terrifying.
"Step forward when called. Your blood and physical samples will be analyzed, and your results will appear on the obelisks," the instructor continued. "Most results will remain private. However, those who possess exceptional physiques will have their names displayed for all to see."
One by one, students stepped forward. Blood was drawn, strands of hair taken, muscle samples lightly extracted by alchemic means. The obelisks hummed as they processed the information, and soon, results began appearing in glowing script.
---
The Physique Grades:
1. Mortal Shell – The foundation, composed of flesh, blood, bones, and organs.
2. Resonant Layer – An energy-based layer of structured celestial resonance, harmonizing with the Mortal Shell.
3. Luminous Frame – A force field layer glowing with the Primal Origin Light of Primes, enhancing vitality and energy flow.
4. Radiant Mantle – A metaphysical, fluid-transforming mantle that enhances adaptability, endurance, and raw strength.
5. Cosmic Lattice – A metaphysical crystalline structure formed within, embodying celestial potential and internal fortification.
6. Astral Embodiment – A manifested astral body layer, resembling constellations, linked to celestial forces.
7. Transcendent Shell – The fusion of all layers into the Mortal Shell, transforming it into something beyond mortal limitations.
---
As the results streamed in, the students rushed to find their own rankings. Most hovered around the Mortal Shell and Resonant Layer, with a few reaching Luminous Frame.
Then came the first shock.
Gary Amberson – Astral Embodiment.
A collective gasp filled the air. Astral Embodiment—one of the highest known physique grades. It was no surprise that a noble like Gary would possess a strong physique, but for it to be this high?
Gary himself exhaled, tension leaving his body. He had done it. His father would be proud. This was proof of his bloodline's strength, of his worthiness to bear the Amberson name.
Then another name appeared.
Luna Ashborne – Transcended Form.
Silence.
This was beyond rare. Transcended Form was not a physique that should exist within mere students. It was something found only in legends, in figures who shaped history. Yet there it was, glowing for all to see.
Luna's expression remained calm, but inwardly, she felt the weight settle upon her shoulders. It was not pride that filled her, but responsibility. If this was the body she had been given, then she had no choice but to rise to its expectations. She would not fail.
Yet amidst the gasps of surprise there was a result that was equally stunning, just in an opposite way.
Dawn – Twisted Mortal Shell.
This time, the reaction was different. Murmurs of confusion, pity, and even disgust rippled through the instructors and assistans. A broken foundation. A body that could not properly channel energy. It was a flaw that no amount of training could completely fix.
Dawn stared at the glowing words, his fists clenching. So, this was the truth of his body. He had always known something was wrong, but to have it laid bare like this...
He exhaled, slow and steady. It didn't change anything. He would still walk his path.
Standing far from sight, a blurry figure watched with amusement—the Grand Instructor, hidden from all, yet more aware than any of them. He smiled, intrigued.
"Now this....." he murmured, "...is interesting."