Soon we were about to find out which teams we were assigned to.
While we were eating breakfast, we were talking about it.
"The Institution most likely won't give us teams we're comfortable with," Calixtus said between bites. "They've never been fans of us getting too familiar."
He wasn't wrong. I was pretty sure whoever we were paired with would be people we'd have to tolerate, not trust.
Eleanor took a bite, chewed slowly, then gave Calixtus a sideways glance.
"Well, as long as I'm not stuck with someone who narrates his own workouts, I think I'll survive."
She sipped her drink without breaking eye contact.
Calixtus grinned, unfazed. "You say that now, but when we're lost in the woods and morale's low, you'll be begging for my commentary."
Eleanor rolled her eyes. "If that happens, I'll take my chances with the wildlife."
They both laughed.
I let myself smile too.
"Oh? Look who is in a good mood." Eleanor added.
Then, as the laughter faded, I added—lighter than usual.
"Well, as long as nobody snores like a dying wyrm, I think we'll manage."
Calixtus raised his hands, mock-offended. "I make no promises."
We finished up. It was time.
As we stood to leave, Calixtus cast me a glance.
We assembled in the hall.
Instructor Justinian didn't wait.
"Your teams for the exam will be as follows:
Team One
Lukas, of House Diogenus
Castinus, of House Acropolita
Aretha, of House Meloda
Basiliscus, of House Bardanes
Team Two
Kaelen, of The Empire
Eleanor, of House Zonara
Calixtus, of House Angelus
Thalia, of House Seraphen
Team Three
Sophie, of House Ingerina
Isaac, of House Phocus
Verena, of House Althon
Darius, of House Vexillan
Team Four
Marcus, of House Dravon
Nerissa, of House Callidora
Orin, of House Thevas
Selene, of House Maroveth"
He didn't pause for reactions.
"You will be dropped at separate points within the Veiled Forest.
He scanned the room.
"No resources will be allocated to you. Aside from your clothes—and your weapon, if applicable—you are on your own."
His eyes lingered on Lukas for that last part.
Lukas was the only one among us who used a blade.
When the Institution was founded, it was intended to be apolitical. Detached from influence from outside sources. But Diogenus was Diogenus.
They required Lukas be trained in the sword—an inheritance, they claimed. A family heirloom, forged from the bones of their first Ashwing. Whether that was true or not, it didn't matter. The Institution complied.
Still, it wasn't necessarily an advantage.
Out there, relying on a sword might do more harm than good.
"As for the rules. You are not to leave the Veiled Forest. A containment barrier has been placed, spanning 120 miles. You will not cross it.
You are permitted to act freely within the zone. If you dislike someone, be it in your team or another—you may attempt to kill them.
We will intervene if murder is imminent. But if we have to intervene, the target is marked a failure regardless.
So if you're going to try and go for a kill, be quick.
Only two outcomes, no punishment or benefit will come other than:
Survive the seven days, or be removed."
Now it made sense.
Why we were placed in teams we were comfortable with.
To provoke conflict beneath the surface.
The Institution didn't want chaos—they wanted pressure. They wanted to watch how cohesion fractures under strain. How familiarity erodes when survival is on the line.
When it's someone you trust who might one day be the reason you don't make it out.
For some, I was sure—being murdered in the forest would be preferable to being saved by an Instructor.
Their entire existence, from the moment they could walk, had been engineered to serve. To fight. To become the perfect weapon for their House.
It was a twisted thought, this was certainly the best way to plant it into us.
That was also why they explicitly mentioned that we could kill each other.
"Now we proceed to training. Pick a sparring partner. Sixty percent force output."
I walked toward Lukas.
"Let's have a go before the exam."
He turned slightly. Not surprised.
"I'm skeptical of you, Kaelen," he said calmly. "You'll gain more from this than I will. Getting a feel for my rhythm, gauging my reach—that helps you."
He rolled his shoulder, loosening the joint.
"As for me? I already know how you fight. You have no affinity."
Casual. But it wasn't dismissal—it was a probe. A test.
He stepped forward, closing the distance.
"But I won't refuse a challenge."
He dropped into stance.
"Get ready."
This time, he didn't draw his sword.
Justinian's earlier comment must have gotten to him.
The signal was called.
He struck first—a fireball toward my right. I dodged left, and he was already there—fist ablaze.
I ducked and retreated.
Not for long.
Mid-step, I launched forward. Suppressed my mana fully mid-air.
He flinched.
Then—impact. I reactivated a burst of mana into my left leg at just the right moment, driving it into his abdomen.
Clean hit.
He staggered back, then flared—mana surging across his body.
A pulse. Then flame erupted outward.
Even with my speed, it was hard to dodge.
He didn't let up. A fire arrow followed. I barely avoided it—he was already closing again.
He flowed between distance and proximity seamlessly.
Enough.
I activated Perfect Flow. Mana surged through me, circulating much faster than before, multiplying my force.
I caught him mid-swing by the arm, pivoted, and tossed him to the floor.
Still holding his limb, I locked an armbar.
He began heating the joint. I feigned weakness.
The truth?
I could've broken it right there.
But I didn't.
Without the Seed of Eternal Flame, he couldn't stop me.
But he wouldn't use that now. Not without cause.
This match needed to end the right way.
He had to think I was strong.
But not too strong.
I loosened my grip slightly—let his rising body heat drive the illusion of struggle—and eventually released him, pulling back just as his body ignited in flame.
He rose, breathing controlled.
He threw a ball of fire at me, seemingly harmless.
He connected it with a fire thread which he used to increase the temperature of the ball in an instant, causing an explosion.
I took it head-on. Startled.
He used the moment. A barrage followed as he closed the distance.
One landed.
Not enough to drop me. But the damage was slowly racking up.
He surged forward, fire wreathing his limbs.
Then—his foot grazed the air. The world shimmered.
Lines of heat. Barely visible.
He'd turned the arena into a lattice of flame.
I dodged.
Bad call.
A thread flared behind me—igniting in a burst that sent shockwaves through the floor. He'd mapped the battlefield in flame.
Traps layered over instincts.
And without tapping deeper into my mana, the heat and concussive force were starting to catch up.
Time to shift the tempo.
I jumped—same trajectory as before. Triggered multiple threads midair. Let them detonate around me.
Fire kissed my limbs. My skin tore. Left arm went numb.
But I reached him.
Close enough to see recognition flicker in his eyes.
Then—mana vanished.
And reappeared.
Much sharper than last time.
Sixty percent output.
Left fist forward.
He braced. Thinking it was the same, that after one strike he could go back to the offensive.
It wasn't.
One strike. Then another. Then another.
A rhythmless barrage—powered just enough to keep him off-balance. A barrage of undetectable blows.
It was only possible because of my mastery over suppression. My speed.
He dropped to his knees, smoke rising from his shoulders.
It was over.
I stopped.
Gave him a second to breathe, then extended my hand.
"That was a good match."
He looked up, breathing level. Then took it.
"The way you vanish your mana…" he muttered. "That was something. This spar was worthwhile."
I nodded.
To them, it looked close.
To him, it felt like he could win next time.
He hadn't used it. Not because of the Instructor's restrictions.
He hadn't used it during the duel either—even with his House watching.
No. Especially with his House watching.
The Seed of Eternal Flame.
To House Diogenus, it wasn't just power. It was sacred—an evolved form of fire, reserved for moments that demanded legacy.
A gift one could tap into briefly, if deemed worthy.
Only the Warden held it active at all times.
To ignite it during training?
That would've been shameful.
Next time we fight, I want to see it activated.
Not out of fear.
But to understand it. To see what makes House Diogenus guard it so fiercely. To know whether the Seed of Eternal Flame truly stands above the rest of us.
Because I was certain—
If we both went all out, I could win.
We continued with our day after combat training.
I made a breakthrough in my technique.
During Specialization, I showed it to Instructor Vigilius.
"You completed the first step," he said, voice flat. "You have control of your mana release."
There was no praise in his tone.
"Next step is the hard part."
He looked at me directly now—almost like he was weighing whether to explain it at all.
"Keeping your mana dense inside your body. Not circulating freely. Not flaring. But compressed—packed tight. Like muscle. Like bone. Eventually, like an organ."
His tone remained clinical.
"This does two things. One—by compacting it, you make it more potent. The tighter the concentration, the stronger the output when it's finally used. Your body moves faster, hits harder, endures more."
He stepped forward once.
"And two—it changes the state. External sensors, instinctual perception, aura detection—they all rely on tracing active mana flow. But if the mana is inert, sealed and structured inside you, even other specialists will have trouble sensing it."
He stopped just short of me.
"You'll still bleed if cut. But to your enemy's instincts, you'll be a ghost."
He continued after a short pause.
"For me, it takes a full minute to enter that state."
"State Null."
"My master came close to perfecting it. I took over after he passed. Even then—it took me fifteen years to reach it. And to this day, I still need sixty uninterrupted seconds to lock it in."
He paused. No ego in his voice. Just fact.
"Once it's active, I become the deadliest being in the Institution."
"If a threat ever rises—one strong enough to endanger the order of this facility—protocol is to stall them, until sixty seconds have passed."
Honestly, that surprised me.
More than the revelation itself, it was the fact that he was revealing it at all. Vigilius rarely spoke.
But I was good at reading people—and even better at understanding what they wanted.
He wanted to pass on this knowledge, just as his master did for him, a sense of responsibility.
"Now I'm going to teach you the second stage," Vigilius said.
"Change the state of your mana—start with your palm."
He stood in front of me, arms behind his back.
"Don't release it. Don't circulate it. Let it gather just beneath the skin."
"Then—compress."
I narrowed my eyes slightly.
"Compress how?"
"Like you're folding it into itself. It's not about pressure—it's about stillness. Fold it until it doesn't want to move."
He took a breath.
"You're used to thinking of mana as flow. Energy in motion. That's natural. But State Null doesn't care about natural."
"You're not guiding mana anymore—you're changing it."
I raised my hand. Focused.
Mana filled my palm. Slowly. Carefully.
Not to enhance. Not to strike.
Just… to exist.
And I tried to hold it there.
To keep it.
It resisted. It wanted to circulate, escape. It burned slightly—like my skin couldn't decide whether to heat or freeze.
My fingers twitched.
"Stop."
Vigilius walked a half-step closer.
"Mana isn't a chemical compound," he said. "It doesn't follow the same rules."
"It doesn't have to be hot to expand or cold to contract. Its state isn't bound to temperature, or density, or phase. It's bound to intention."
"Your intent defines its shape. Its state."
He met my eyes.
"In State Null, mana becomes weightless and heavy at the same time. A paradox. One you force into existence."
He was a good Instructor. His voice had this tone—measured, firm, unshaken—that made it easier to learn. Like the words were already shaped to fit.
By the time Specialization ended, I hadn't made any real progress.
But that was fine.
I knew I was capable of figuring this out soon enough.