TRIALS

The moment Rael stepped through the gates, he could feel it—the weight of Imperius Academy.

It wasn't just a place of learning. It was a battlefield.

The air crackled with mana. The stone beneath his boots radiated a faint warmth, a side effect of the academy's ancient enchantments. Ahead, a vast courtyard stretched out, large enough to fit an army. At the center stood a grand statue of an armored warrior wielding both a sword and a spellbook—a symbol of the academy's dual mastery of martial and magical arts.

And surrounding that statue, dozens of students gathered, whispering among themselves.

Rael didn't need to guess what they were waiting for.

A test.

---

The First Trial

A deep voice boomed across the courtyard.

"Form a line."

Rael turned, spotting the same instructor who had greeted them at the gates. His presence alone was enough to silence any remaining chatter.

The new students shuffled into place, forming a long row facing the academy's faculty. A few of the nobles straightened their postures, eager to display their discipline. Others, like Rael, remained still and quiet, observing.

"You have all come here seeking strength," the instructor said. "But Imperius does not waste its time on the unworthy."

His eyes swept over the crowd.

"You will now prove your right to be here. The weak will be cast out. The strong… will remain."

Rael heard a few students murmur. Some shifted nervously. Others smirked, confident in their own ability.

Then, with a snap of the instructor's fingers—the ground beneath them glowed.

A formation of magic circles flared to life beneath each student, pulsing with golden energy. Rael felt something claw at his mind, a foreign force trying to drag his deepest self to the surface.

He clenched his fists. A test of will? spirit?

Across the line, some students gasped. One noble's legs buckled, and he collapsed onto his hands and knees, trembling.

Others fought it—gritting their teeth, their bodies rigid.

But Rael…

He did nothing.

He let the force press down on him, let it try to invade his mind. But unlike the others, he did not resist head-on. He flowed with it, adapted to it.

For him, it was no different from surviving in a world that had always been against him.

The glow beneath him flickered—and then vanished.

One by one, the circles faded, their judgment cast. Several students collapsed, panting. The noble from earlier had fallen completely unconscious. They had failed.

A handful, including Rael, remained standing, unaffected.

The instructor nodded approvingly. "Good. Some of you understand that strength is not about brute force."

His gaze landed on Rael briefly before moving on.

"The first trial is over. Now, for the next."

---

The Combat Trial

They were led to a circular stone arena on the academy grounds. The walls surrounding it were lined with glowing runes, likely a containment measure to prevent reckless magic from spilling out.

"The second trial is simple," the instructor announced. "You will fight."

A ripple of excitement passed through the students.

"You may use whatever means necessary to defeat your opponent. Yielding is allowed. Losing consciousness… will also count as a loss."

The instructor raised a hand.

"Step forward when your name is called."

One by one, names were read aloud. Fights broke out in the arena—some over in seconds, others dragging on as students clashed. Blades met spells, sparks flying as warriors dueled against mages.

Rael watched carefully. He wasn't the strongest here—not in raw power—but he could learn.

Then—his name was called.

"Rael Venn."

He stepped forward, his heart steady.

His opponent was already waiting—a tall, well-built student dressed in expensive training armor. A noble, without a doubt. The crest on his sleeve marked him as a member of the Vaelor family, One of the great houses known for their swordsmanship.

The noble's smirk was almost lazy. "They're letting mercenaries in now? This'll be quick."

Rael said nothing. He had no need for words.

The instructor raised his hand.

"Begin."

---

A Fight Between Worlds

The noble lunged first, his blade moving with expert precision.

Fast. Clean. Predictable.

Rael moved on instinct, twisting his body at the last second. The sword whistled past him, missing by inches.

The noble barely had time to react before Rael stepped in—too close for a proper counter, too awkward for a controlled strike.

Rael's fist snapped forward, striking the noble's ribs. He felt the impact vibrate through his knuckles. The noble staggered, more surprised than hurt.

Rael didn't stop.

He fought like a survivor. Like a mercenary.

His foot swept out, aiming for balance. The noble jumped back—but that was exactly what Rael wanted.

The moment his opponent moved away, Rael grabbed the sand beneath his feet and threw it.

The noble flinched as dust clouded his vision. He barely had time to react before Rael closed the gap again, his wooden sword crashing into his shoulder with brutal efficiency.

A growl of frustration.

The noble swung wildly, attempting to force Rael back with raw strength. It worked—but only for a second.

Rael had already learned his movements. The moment the noble tried to press his advantage, Rael shifted.

Instead of stepping back, he stepped *into* the attack, his body turning at an awkward, unpredictable angle. The noble's sword passed harmlessly over him, his center of gravity thrown off.

Rael twisted—and drove his elbow into the noble's stomach.

A gasp of pain.

The noble stumbled. His guard was down.

Rael's sword lashed out—striking his opponent's wrist, then his ribs, then his leg. A flurry of attacks, too fast, too unorthodox.

The noble hit the ground.

A stunned silence filled the air.

Rael stood over his fallen opponent, his breath steady.

He had won.

The instructor studied him for a long moment before nodding.

"Winner—Rael Venn."

He turned to the rest of the students.

"This is why we do not underestimate an opponent."