The day had finally arrived.
The Trial for the upcoming tournament—the first real step toward glory, status, and power at the academy.
Only nine students would be chosen:
Three with unmatched martial skills.
Three who commanded mana with mastery.
And three—those rare few—who could do both.
I sat on the far edge of the stone benches that overlooked the trial grounds, surrounded by students murmuring with excitement. Some were stretching, some meditating, and others already practicing, energy pulsing around them like electric storms. Golden, crimson, silver mana sparked through the air. Loud thuds from sparring matches echoed from the far corner, blades clashing and fists slamming into magical barriers.
I looked down at my hands.
What am I even doing here?
I still had no idea what I was good at.
Everyone else had trained for years, honing their skills in either martial or mana disciplines—or both. They'd grown up in families that prepared them for this moment, where legacy and talent walked hand-in-hand.
And me?
I didn't even know what I was capable of.
What I wasn't capable of.
The one time I did something extraordinary—whatever it was I did in that fight—it wasn't even me. My body had moved on its own. My mind hadn't known how. My instincts had guided me through a fight I should've lost, using powers I didn't understand.
Umbral Vein.
A made-up name for something I didn't even control. Something Kael had warned me not to use. Something Gansovi—the name whispered like a curse—was watching for.
I clenched my fists.
Even if I wanted to try using it again… I didn't know how. And if I did, and someone like Gansovi noticed me—what then?
I heard a loud cheer as someone completed a sparring sequence perfectly. Another student walked out to the center of the arena, fire glowing in both hands. The air shimmered with mana, judges watching with critical eyes from a raised platform.
And I was still here, sitting. Thinking. Doubting.
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, staring at the trial ground.
You can't sit here forever, Elias.
I had to try. I had to step in, even if I didn't know what I was doing.
Because if I didn't—I'd never find out what I was good at.
And worse... I'd never escape the shadow of that moment, of that power. That terrifying glimpse of what was inside me.
"Next up—Dante Ashbourne!"
The name cut through the air like a blade, and everyone turned. There was no mistaking who he was. Dante stood slowly, running a hand through his black-streaked hair as he moved toward the center of the arena with the kind of composure that made people hold their breath. Even Kaelrix, who rarely looked impressed by anyone, leaned forward with interest.
The announcer's voice echoed again. "Challenger—Raen Delmore."
A boy stepped forward from the opposite side. Tall, sharp-eyed, with a cold expression that screamed arrogance. He looked like someone who'd trained for this moment his entire life.
They both stepped into the arena—a stone ring surrounded by students and instructors alike, their mana casting glowing lights along the walls. This wasn't just sparring. This was a battle for a place among the best. For recognition. For power.
Serelith, Simyle, and Sarina had already secured their spots for martial combat. Kaelrix, Zaden, and some guy named Brendon had blown everyone away with their control over mana—each of them showing a unique style, from electric sparks and molten fire to Zaden's blue wind that bent like blades.
"For the dual category—mana and martial." the instructor said, raising a hand. "The winner will take the Second slot. You may begin when ready."
Because the first slot is already taken by Ayan Mereith.
Raen didn't waste time. He surged forward, his body coated in emerald mana, and slashed with twin blades faster than most could follow. His movements were aggressive, surgical, and polished.
But Dante—Dante smirked.
He met Raen head-on, one hand drawing his weapon while the other crackled with crimson mana. When steel clashed, sparks flew. Mana collided midair in bursts of color. Raen spun low, aiming to sweep Dante's legs, but Dante flipped over him effortlessly, releasing a wave of red mana mid-air that knocked Raen back.
The arena trembled.
Raen retaliated, casting multiple blades made of mana that flew toward Dante, but Dante spun with his blade, deflecting all of them in one smooth arc, the mana around him flaring brighter.
And then it happened.
Dante shifted his grip, tightened his stance—and vanished.
In a blink, he reappeared behind Raen and struck his shoulder with the hilt of his blade, forcing Raen to drop one of his weapons. Mana erupted around them as they clashed again, but it was clear who had the upper hand now.
With a final strike, Dante twisted around and slammed his blade into the ground, releasing a ripple of crimson energy that exploded outward, knocking Raen flat on his back.
Silence.
Then applause. Loud, thunderous applause.
"Match over!" the instructor called. "Dante Ashbourne secures the fourth spot in dual category."
He straightened, not even smug. Just… calm. Powerful. And untouchable.
And now there were only one spots left.
And I was still seated, wondering if I even belonged here at all.