{Chapter: 87: Wizard Academy Selection}
As he walked along the cobbled path steeped in the scent of age and magic, Saya couldn't help but feel a quiet reverence settle over him. The buildings that rose on either side of the road were not merely constructed from stone and mortar, but from generations of wisdom, power, and mystery. Moss clung to the edges of the archways like aging lace, and the walls bore carvings so fine and intricate that they seemed to whisper forgotten spells with every passing breeze. Each glyph etched into the stone shimmered faintly under the glow of the enchanted lanterns swaying from iron posts.
This place, this ancient academy of magic, was not just a temporary stop for him; it was to become his world.
Saya's dark eyes roamed the surroundings with unhidden awe, absorbing every detail with the hunger of someone who knew that this path was the threshold to his future. According to his research, and the old tomes he devoured back in his homeland, it could take an apprentice a decade—if they were gifted—or perhaps several lifetimes, to reach the title of a full-fledged wizard. Those who didn't perish, give up, or lose their minds would spend the majority of that time within these walls.
Yet despite the daunting prospect of the years ahead, Saya felt something close to satisfaction. No, it was deeper than that—it was anticipation. The academy was not the graveyard of ambition some whispered about; to him, it was a cathedral of endless potential.
Even the capital cities of the wealthiest mortal kingdoms couldn't compare to this place. The marble columns crowned with obsidian runes, the hovering crystals gently spinning above spires, the domed towers with silver-roofed observatories pointed toward the stars—each detail whispered the same truth: this was the realm of those who defied mortality.
"This is truly the residence of wizards," Saya whispered under his breath, his tone filled with reverence.
Unlike the bleak, silent halls he had imagined from the old stories, the academy thrummed with quiet activity. Figures in various robes drifted across stone bridges and through ivy-covered gates, their pace leisurely but purposeful. Some bore the crimson-trimmed cloaks of students; others, the midnight-black robes of instructors. Servants, easily identified by their simple linen tunics and the golden brooches shaped like keys, bustled along the periphery, carrying books, trays, or crates filled with glowing reagents.
Saya watched the passersby with growing interest. Despite their disparate appearances, they all shared one thing: an aura of power. It radiated from them, subtle yet unmistakable, like the hum of a latent storm.
He straightened his posture instinctively, lifting his chin. If this was to be his new world, then he would meet it on equal footing. Charles, his shorter and slightly rounder companion, hesitated for a moment before mimicking Saya's proud stance. Though the gesture looked awkward on him, Charles's determination was palpable.
He cast a sidelong glance at Saya. That boy—elegant, sharp-featured, with a voice that carried a sense of calm authority—had become a quiet beacon for him. Charles had always been the type to blend into the background, but something about Saya made him want to change.
"I want to walk my own path," Charles thought, clenching his fists lightly. "No more drifting."
Ahead, their guide—a senior instructor named Derek—stopped before an enormous, vaulted structure of dark stone. A pair of towering doors stood shut, bound with glowing chains that pulsed with magical runes. Arcane sigils crawled across the door's surface like fireflies.
"This is the Selection Hall," Derek announced, turning to address the gathering of new apprentices. "Here, your fates begin to diverge. In a few moments, you will step inside. Mentors will observe and evaluate you. Some may choose you immediately. Others will leave the choice to the system based on your potential."
He paused, then added, his tone more personal: "Try to make a good impression. Those chosen directly by mentors are often better nurtured, better protected, and given greater access to forbidden knowledge."
The tension among the students thickened. Shoulders stiffened, eyes sharpened, and murmurs fell into nervous silence.
Derek's expression softened for a moment as he looked over the group. A flicker of something haunted crossed his features.
"I wasted twenty years under a mentor who didn't care. Don't be like me," he muttered under his breath, then turned on his heel and strode away, his cloak billowing behind him.
Inside the towering hall, a surreal scene unfolded. Floating platforms, semi-transparent like mist caught in moonlight, drifted in the air above a circular stone arena. From these ethereal balconies, voices rose—some amused, some curious, others entirely indifferent.
"This one looks interesting. The one with the dark hair. Decent bone structure," a shrill voice observed.
"He looks fragile. I'll take him. He won't last a year, but the data might be valuable."
"What about the girl with the crystal eye? I've never dissected an ocular mutation like that before."
"You're always chasing oddities. Pick someone with actual promise."
"I want the blue-haired boy," a melodious voice echoed, distant yet unyielding. "He looks strong; I want to know how long he can last in bed."
"Don't waste that candidate on your pleasure experiments!" another voice snapped. "He's got high affinity readings."
"And you think I'll kill him? Please. I'll enhance him. If he survives, of course."
Saya's confidence wavered for the first time as he stepped forward under the enchanted dome. He could feel their eyes on him—multiple presences, most unseen, scanning him as if evaluating a specimen, not a student. He forced himself to breathe evenly, ignoring the beads of sweat on his back.
"It feels like they're choosing cattle," he thought grimly. "Or free samples at a market."
To his left, Charles had gone pale. A girl behind them was silently weeping, biting her sleeve to keep from sobbing aloud.
Above them, the voices continued, playful, cruel, analytical.
"You are… you are not ready," one said cryptically.
"You might be fun to break," muttered another.
Derek, now far down the hallway, didn't look back. His duties were done. His next assignment awaited—an airship bound for a distant empire. Silent Heart governed over a hundred kingdoms and empires. Every month, he traveled to a new nation to oversee apprentice recruitment, tying to make it just right to visit each country once a year. So his job means he is either on the road or on the way to a road, and rest time is hard to come by.
A lonely life of portals and skyships, of cold beds and unfamiliar cities.
Looking at the nervous freshmen, Derek turned and walked out. His monthly mission was completed here.
Next month, he will travel to other countries to welcome new students.
He sighed as the wind tousled his greying hair. "Let's see what fresh hell next month brings."
Back in the hall, the fate of the students began to shift—one choice, one word at a time.
And Saya, heart hammering but head held high, waited to see if anyone would speak his name.
Or if he would be left to fate.
The true trials had only just begun.
*****
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