Rank Assessment
Williams' POV
In the muted quiet of his office at the Awakened Academy, Williams—Head Administrator and one of the five great Rank 8 Awakened—sat with his back straight and his fingers steepled in thought. Beyond the tall windows, the city's skyline glittered under a silver moon, casting pale light into the chamber and etching long shadows along the stone floor.
His desk, sleek and black with inlaid etchings of ancient glyphs, was cluttered with folders. Files on the newest batch of candidates. One by one, he reviewed them—names, stats, achievements, failures. Most were predictable. Children of influence, rising stars with groomed power. But one thin dossier, nearly forgotten under a thicker pile, pulled his attention.
He slid it free and opened it carefully.
Solace.
Sparse content. No background of prestige. No political sponsors. An orphan from the outskirts—nameless, invisible, irrelevant to most.
But not to Williams.
His eyes narrowed as he read:
> Solace & Guardian: A Brief Overview
Solace
Background: An orphan from the outer districts. Reclusive. Noted to have survived several beast encounters alone.
Ability: Advanced control over shadows. Can solidify and weaponize them, forming tools, shields, and weapons of various shapes. Rare precision.
Guardian: Mara White
Early Achievement: Ascended to Rank 6 at a young age. Joined a top-tier association at 18.
Career Shift: Became a field leader. Retired at 20 without explanation.
Current Status: Lives on the outskirts under a false civilian profile. Serves as Solace's guardian. Hides her true rank and history.
Williams shut the folder gently and leaned back in his chair. The shadows in the corners of the room seemed to stir, as if in acknowledgment.
"A shadow wielder raised by Mara White…" His voice was little more than a whisper. "This one's more than he seems."
A faint smile played on his lips. Solace may not have the bloodline or reputation of the others—but Williams knew potential when he saw it. And this boy had something dangerous buried beneath the surface. Power. Control. Still unrefined, but alive.
"I'll be watching you," he murmured.
---
Solace's POV
Two days after the initiation, the chosen candidates stood in the Grand Assembly Hall of the Association Headquarters. The walls reached impossibly high, banners from each of the five great guilds hanging like silent sentinels overhead. The air buzzed with a quiet tension, a mixture of awe and anxiety.
Solace stood among the sea of young Awakened, his dark clothes and quiet demeanor drawing little attention. He was used to being invisible. Preferred it, even.
Then the crowd hushed.
Williams appeared at the front of the hall, ascending the steps of a stone dais. Dressed in crimson and black, with a sword slung casually at his hip, he radiated strength that needed no announcement.
"Welcome, Awakened," Williams said, his voice resonant and calm. "This is not a place for comfort. You are not chosen because of privilege or name. You are here to be broken—and rebuilt."
Then it struck.
An invisible force swept across the room like a stormfront. Pressure. Crushing and suffocating. It slammed into Solace's chest like a mountain. He staggered but didn't fall. Around him, dozens of candidates collapsed, gasping for air, knees slamming to the marble floor. A few screamed. Others wept.
Solace gritted his teeth, willing his legs to hold. His shadows stirred reflexively at his feet, writhing and twitching like snakes sensing danger.
A girl stood nearby—her hair braided tightly, her stance firm. Wind whispered around her ankles like a protective veil. She didn't falter.
Williams scanned the room, his gaze lingering briefly on Solace and the girl.
"Those of you still standing," he said, "remember this feeling. This is what it means to hold power. To endure it. The rest of you—get up. Or get out."
The pressure vanished. Like a vacuum snapping shut.
Solace exhaled shakily, sweat beading on his brow.
This was only the beginning.
---
The Journey Begins
The next morning, the surviving candidates were summoned again—this time in smaller groups. Solace found himself standing beside the same girl who had remained upright during the pressure test. Her presence was calm, assured.
"I'm Lyra," she said simply. "You don't look like much. But you didn't fall. That's good enough for me."
Solace nodded. "Solace."
They joined three other candidates—one flame user, a water manipulator, and a boy with sonar-based perception. Together, they were assigned a mission: a two-day trek through the wastelands surrounding the outer border. Their goal—reach Rank 10 City within 48 hours. Failure to arrive on time meant immediate expulsion.
They left at dawn.
The wastelands were not barren, but chaotic. Shattered ruins, pockets of thick fog, twisted roots, and mutated wildlife defined the path. It was a graveyard for the weak.
By day, they traveled under harsh sun and wary gazes. At night, they moved with caution, knowing that the beasts hunted when the moon rose. Solace's control over shadows gave him an edge—he could mask the group's presence, snuff out light, or form defensive blades with little effort.
On the second night, disaster struck.
A pack of Rank 1 beasts—a cross between hounds and reptiles—descended from a rocky ridge. Red eyes glinted in the dark, and snarls filled the silence. The team moved quickly, each member falling into formation.
"Disperse and flank!" Lyra ordered sharply. She whirled her hands, summoning a vortex of air that sent two beasts tumbling backward. "Solace—left!"
He obeyed instantly.
With a flick of his wrist, shadows coalesced into a spear. He lunged, then hurled it into the nearest beast. The weapon pierced clean through its chest, dissolving after impact. The creature convulsed and dropped.
By the time the others regrouped, the beasts were either dead or fled. No serious injuries.
"Nice throw," Lyra said, slightly out of breath.
Solace gave a nod. "You too."
---
Arrival
By the second dawn, the group was exhausted. Muscles ached, supplies dwindled, but no one complained. They had formed a rhythm—a quiet unity forged by trial.
When the spires of Rank 10 City appeared on the horizon, relief washed over them. Gleaming towers, well-maintained roads, and the glint of elemental wards above the city walls marked the end of their ordeal.
At the gate, an instructor greeted them with a polite bow. "You made it ahead of schedule. That earns you an A-rank evaluation."
He handed out room keys. "Solace, Room 2. Lyra, Room 1. The rest of you are in the East Wing."
Classes would begin the following day.
---
Lyra's POV
Lyra stepped into her room, shutting the door behind her with a gentle click. It was clean. Stark. Peaceful.
Without hesitation, she dropped her pack and sat cross-legged in the center of the room. Her fingers rested on her knees, and she exhaled slowly. Her inner world quieted.
She felt the wind—her element—gather around her like breath. Her newly formed elemental core pulsed within. Light, clean, refined.
She guided the energy carefully, meditating, sharpening her control. Unlike others, she hadn't come here to learn. She came to grow. To dominate.
Daughter of one of the Association's highest-ranking officials, she had lived her whole life under a different kind of pressure. Quiet perfection. Always one step ahead.
After finishing, she showered and lay in bed, her eyes never fully closing.
Tomorrow would bring more trials.
She would not fail.
---
Williams' Final Thought
Later that evening, Williams sat in the darkened quiet of his office again, reading the initial reports from the wasteland trials.
Most were forgettable.
Except for two.
Solace. Lyra.
Different backgrounds. Different powers. But both had passed the test—and more importantly, had passed his test.
"There's something about those two," he said aloud. "Something that doesn't come from training."
He tapped a finger against Solace's file.
"This one… I'll be watching very closely."
Beyond the stone walls of the academy, the world spun on. But here, within these hallowed halls, the first threads of a new future were weaving themselves quietly together.
And it began with the ones who stood when others fell.