The classroom buzzed with murmurs. Glass windows glimmered with runes, and arcane glyphs danced across the ceiling, glowing faintly in the morning light. Auron sat in the far corner, arms folded, silver eyes half-lidded. Watching.
Observing.
The other students chattered, oblivious.
He counted twenty-nine students in the room.
Ten were trying to size up the competition. Five were clearly heirs to noble bloodlines. Eight had confidence that reeked of entitlement. The rest… sheep.
He leaned back against the chair, gaze distant, until the door slammed open.
An instructor entered, flanked by two guards in black-ink armor.
"All of you," the instructor barked. "Outside. Ground level. Now."
The classroom hushed instantly.
---
They gathered in the southern courtyard, a vast open space paved with black obsidian. Floating platforms spun lazily above them, and far at the center stood a strange crystalline monolith—a Magic Tower, carved with living script that pulsed softly with celestial light.
Auron felt it the moment they stepped into range.
The tower was alive. Watching.
Its aura clawed against his senses, trying to read him.
He masked his energy.
Standing at the edge of the gathering, draped in long black robes that shimmered like starlight, was a tall man with snow-white hair flowing past his waist. His golden eyes glowed like molten suns, emotionless and all-seeing.
The crowd fell silent.
Principal Zaerion.
He didn't speak immediately. He simply looked across the gathered students, as if measuring their souls with each breath.
"You are not special," he said, voice cold, like ice cracking over a frozen lake. "You are dust. Potential. Clay."
No one dared interrupt.
"But clay can be shaped. Some of you will break. Some of you will bend. And a few… a rare few… will ignite."
He turned toward the tower.
"This is the Assessment of Origin," he continued. "You will each place your right hand upon the Tower of Truth. It will reveal your magic affinities, weapon talents, your beast bond, and any Divine or Infernal Marks etched into your soul."
A hush spread.
One student near the front stammered, "M-Magic affinities?"
The principal didn't look at him. "Fire. Water. Nature. Light. Darkness. Summoning. Weapon mastery. Time. And beyond."
One instructor stepped forward with a scroll. "When your name is called, step forward."
The first few were forgettable. A girl with water and fire affinity. A boy with a bow and beast bond with a wind eagle. Students clapped politely. The tower shone different hues, adjusting to each student's soul.
Then came the tenth student.
A boy with golden hair and a cloak lined with celestial feathers stepped forward, his chin held high.
He said nothing, merely placed his hand on the Tower.
The Tower lit up like the dawn.
Light magic.
Then gold.
Students gasped. Two magic types.
A blade shimmered beside the tower.
Sword: Primary weapon.
Then came the roar of a phantom beast overhead.
A brilliant illusion formed above the boy.
Heavenly Horse. A legendary beast.
But it didn't end there.
A single symbol branded itself across his back in glowing light—
Godmarked.
Gasps echoed. Even the instructors seemed stunned.
"Impossible," one whispered.
"He's the prince," another muttered. "Of Solairan Kingdom…"
Principal Zaerion's face didn't change, but his eyes narrowed. "He is one of the Two. Sit."
The boy turned without a word and took his seat.
The next few students seemed almost embarrassed.
Then came the dark princess.
She strode forward with hair like ink and armor plated in obsidian steel. Her expression was unreadable.
Darkness shimmered around the tower.
Then—light again. Not pure like the prince's, but cold. A black sun.
Dark Light.
Then—sword and shield.
Above her coiled a massive serpent of flame and shadow.
Hell Snake.
And then—
A red glyph burned across her shoulder.
Demonmarked.
The crowd froze.
"Two legendary heirs… in one batch," one instructor whispered.
"Unheard of…"
Zaerion looked at the instructors, face unreadable. "We have two contenders for the throne of fate. Watch them well."
---
Several names passed.
Then came the last on the scroll.
"Auron Valor."
Silence.
He stepped forward slowly, hands in his pockets, gaze empty and cold. The sun caught on his silver hair, and the girls in the crowd whispered.
"He's… hot."
"Who is he?"
"He's the one who walked through the Veilscar alone."
"Wait—isn't he—?"
Auron ignored them. He walked up to the tower and paused.
Zaerion was watching him like a hawk.
"Place your hand," the principal said quietly.
Auron slowly reached forward and pressed his palm against the glassy surface.
For a second, nothing happened.
Then the tower exploded with color.
White.
Gold.
Green.
Red.
Yellow.
Black.
And violet.
Each color pulsed violently, streaking across the tower.
Students staggered back.
Teachers gasped.
Zaerion's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"No…" one instructor whispered. "That's not possible."
Red for fire.
Green for nature.
Yellow for water.
White for weapon mastery.
Gold for god magic.
Black for darkness.
Violet for summoning.
Seven types.
The tower began to shudder, struggling to contain its readings.
Auron blinked.
Then beside him—blades began to shimmer in the air.
Not one.
Not two.
But a ring of them.
Every weapon type. Mastery: Complete.
Then came the beasts.
One by one, they appeared in shimmering illusion above him:
Hell Lion
Hell Dog
Hell Tiger
Hell Snake
Heavenly Horse
Heavenly Lion
Heavenly Bird
And a massive golden dragon whose wings eclipsed the sky
The sky itself dimmed.
Students fell to their knees.
One girl screamed. A boy passed out.
The tower began to crack.
Zaerion stepped forward, raising a hand.
"Enough," he said, voice iron.
The tower stilled. Barely.
A final symbol seared itself into the space between Auron's shoulder blades—
A fusion mark. Both godmarked and demonmarked.
Silence reigned.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then Zaerion's voice rang out like a war bell.
"In the entirety of our recorded history," he said, eyes locked onto Auron, "no student has possessed more than four affinities. None have bonded to more than one legendary beast. None have ever awakened both divine and infernal sigils."
He stared at the crowd.
"Until now."
He turned to the instructors.
"Mark this day. Record this name. Auron Valor is the first of his kind."
Auron said nothing.
He turned, walked past the stunned crowd, and returned to his seat at the back.
But as he passed the prince and the dark princess, both turned toward him.
And for the first time, all three legends—future kings, demons, gods—locked eyes.
No words were spoken.
But a war had begun.
---
(End of chapter 5)