A week had passed since the duel between Christoff Ophelic and the sophomore, Wyxro Waxzi. By now, the chatter had dwindled to whispers, then faded entirely as the students of Zheno Academy returned to their routine. Yet for the second-year students, today was different.
The Great Hall loomed vast before them, its ceiling arched like the inside of a cathedral, enchanted chandeliers spilling golden light upon the polished obsidian floor. Rows of banners hung, each marked with the Arcana symbols of the Academy. The air brimmed with tension—not of fear, but of anticipation.
Unlike most assemblies, this one wasn't presided over by the Grandmaster. Instead, the head of the Second-Year Professors, an elderly man with stern eyes and a voice like rolling thunder, stood at the podium.
"Today marks your re-evaluation," he declared, his tone commanding silence across the hall. "Each of you will undergo three steps: physical measurement, magical assessment, and the trial of the Mind Breaker. These evaluations will not only test your current growth but also determine your placement in the upcoming term."
The students shifted in their rows, glancing at one another. Whispers hushed.
Wads leaned back slightly, his rectangular glasses catching the light. Despite his calm expression, he could feel his pulse quicken. He wasn't the strongest, not the most gifted, but he knew—he was better than before. His body remembered the endless nights of training, the bruises, the sweat, the constant push to climb higher.
"Step one: Physical Measurement."
A row of enchanted devices was rolled into the hall. They resembled towering crystal pillars, glowing faintly blue, inscribed with ancient runes. Each pillar was designed to measure muscle endurance, reflex speed, and overall stamina. Students would step inside, and the crystal would light according to their capacity.
Klyden Yurei
When it was Klyden's turn, he walked with his usual lazy grin, though his light blue eyes carried quiet confidence. The crystal hummed when he entered, lines of light climbing faster than anyone expected. His reflex speed pushed the gauge near its limit, his endurance almost perfect. The hall buzzed in surprise—some sophomores whispered that he could rival upper-years in sheer physicality.
"Excellent," the professor announced.
Klyden gave a cheeky bow as he left the pillar, murmuring to Wads, "Guess all those laps weren't for nothing, huh?"
Keiya Anastasia Zheka
Keiya's turn followed. She wasn't the most physically imposing, her lean figure better suited to precision than brute strength. The pillar registered decent results—her stamina above average, but not remarkable. She nodded quietly to herself. It wasn't her strength, and she knew it.
Reiyell Georgia Frey Ravenscroft
Then came Reiyell. A hush fell when she entered the pillar. The moment her hands brushed the crystal, it blazed. Speed, strength, endurance—all spiked at their peaks, the light nearly white. Gasps echoed across the hall. Reiyell stood calm, her gaze distant, as though she'd already anticipated the outcome.
Wads — Wyxro Waxzi
Wads's turn arrived. He stepped into the pillar, exhaling. The light rose—slower than Klyden's, not as blinding as Reiyell's, but steady. It flickered near the upper-mid range, showing marked improvement from his last evaluation. Some students murmured; others smirked. To Wads, it was enough to know that his efforts had borne fruit.
Liora Vallegoire
Liora's silver braid shimmered under the chandeliers as she entered the crystal. The pillar glowed steadily, brighter than before, though it plateaued at a respectable but not extraordinary level. She smiled faintly as she stepped out, brushing imaginary dust from her uniform. Improvement was still improvement.
Ashborne Cloud Dunsmore
Ashborne approached next, tall and imposing, crimson eyes gleaming. The pillar responded violently, light surging high. His physique was undeniable, his stamina exceptional. Students clapped softly as he stepped out, though Ashborne gave no visible reaction—only a small tilt of his head, as though dissatisfied.
And so it went, student after student: some exceeding expectations, others faltering. But already, patterns were forming.
Step Two: Magical/Diety Power
The hall dimmed slightly as crystal pylons rose from the floor, each humming with stored resonance. The professors had explained that the pylons would react to the students' magical and deity output—absorbing, measuring, and translating their flow into visible runes of light that floated in concentric circles above the dais. The brighter, sharper, and higher the runes ascended, the stronger and more stable the student's control was judged to be.
Students stood one by one at the center platform, placing a hand—or sometimes both—on the crystal as their Arcana stirred. The air would hum, shift, or even shatter with power, depending on who stood before it.
....
Klyden
When Klyden's turn came, he cracked his neck once, stepped forward, and pressed his palm to the crystal.
Immediately, the chamber resonated with a low thrum—a deep, steady sound, like the beat of a war drum. His Diety flared as veins of golden light traced along his arms, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat.
Runes climbed higher with each pulse, forming sharp, angular lines that shimmered with discipline and control. Unlike the wild flares of students before him, Klyden's growth was evident in the steadiness of his flow—no leaks, no jagged sparks. The professors murmured in approval; the raw, reckless boy from a year ago now held his power with clarity, directing it instead of letting it run wild.
The runes stabilized at a height higher than his last evaluation, glowing brighter, crisper. A quiet applause broke out from a few sophomores at the back. Klyden only grinned, muttering, "Not bad," before stepping away.
Keiya
Where Klyden's was steady and sharp, Keiya's was radiant. She placed her hand lightly on the crystal, and immediately the air brightened as though flame had spilled through stained glass.
Her diety resonated with a chime-like clarity. Thin streams of light shot upward, weaving together until they burst into dazzling runes that spun in elegant spirals. Unlike most, her runes weren't rigid—they danced, forming constellations that flickered with life, glowing brighter than the majority of her peers.
The crystal hummed with higher frequency, the resonance pure and strong. Her control wasn't just about raw power; it was artistry, precision, harmony. The onlookers let out soft gasps, some shading their eyes from the brilliance. Keiya's lips quirked upward, not boastfully, but as if proud of her progress—her aura itself seemed to hum with confidence as she released her touch.
Reiyell
When Reiyell stepped forward, the room stilled. Even before her hand touched the crystal, the pylon reacted—shards of pale-blue light flaring like frost across its surface.
The moment her palm connected, her diety thundered through the chamber. Runes didn't just glow—they erupted, shattering into fragments before reforming higher and higher above the dais. Her Diety X responded in kind, cold air flooding the hall, crystallizing in delicate patterns on the floor.
Her resonance was terrifying in its harmony; no tremor, no misstep. The runes aligned themselves as though obeying her very breath, each symbol pulsing with authority. The sheer force shook the air, a pressure that made weaker students bow their heads.
Professors scribbled furiously in their notes while the crystal itself strained, glowing dangerously close to white-hot. When Reiyell withdrew her hand, silence hung heavy, broken only by a sharp crack of ice as the frost melted. She didn't smile, but her eyes flickered toward Wads', hiding the faintest curl of satisfaction.
Liora
Liora strode up casually, twirling a strand of hair before laying her hand on the crystal. A steady flow trickled out of her, her diety glowing faintly as the runes floated upward.
They didn't surge like Reiyell's, nor dance like Keiya's—they simply held. Steady, consistent, but without breakthrough. The runes glowed with the same brightness they always had, as though her power had remained at the same level since the last evaluation.
Some whispered in disappointment, expecting more, but Liora only tilted her head and shrugged, unconcerned. "Well, at least it didn't go down," she muttered under her breath with a grin. For her, improvement wasn't about spectacle—it was enough that she was still in the game.
Wads
At first, the runes beneath his feet flickered, almost hesitant, as if uncertain how to measure him. He lowered his gaze, exhaled slowly, and released. A heavy silence swallowed the hall. The floor darkened, cracks threading outward like veins of shadow. The runes flared—then bent.
Not shattered, not extinguished—bent.
The energy that flowed from Wads was unlike the others. It wasn't loud like Keiya's brilliance, nor regal like Reiyell's frost. It was heavier, deeper, older. Time itself seemed to drag, moments stretching longer than they should. Students blinked and swore they missed heartbeats, like seconds had skipped.
Gravity pressed down over the Great Hall. Not crushing—restrained, but undeniable. Chairs groaned, robes fluttered against the floor, and even the torches along the walls dipped lower in their brackets, flames bowing as though pulled by an unseen tide.
The runes beneath him flared again, higher and higher, until the glow strained against its own limits—then plateaued violently, like the system couldn't comprehend what it was measuring. The arcane inscriptions trembled, as though struggling to hold his essence within mortal bounds.
A murmur rippled through the sophomores, not of mockery this time but awe.
Wads' Diety power, buried deeper than he could yet harness, leaked through in threads of raw potential—potential that eclipsed even Reiyell's display. His body trembled slightly, not from weakness but from restraining what wanted to surge freely.
The silence hung heavy before he clenched his fist, pulling it all back. Instantly, time snapped into place, gravity lifted, and the hall breathed again. Students exhaled as though waking from a dream, their hearts pounding.
Step Three: The Mind Breaker
Finally came the dreaded third step: the Mind Breaker.
The chamber itself was simple—an open dome of silver-etched stone. Yet as each student entered, the air shimmered, folding inward, pulling their psyche into a prison of their own fears. The runes around the walls pulsed faintly, recording not power this time, but resilience. It was not a test of strength. Not skill. Not even magic.
It was a test of self.
Those who entered would see illusions—some so real they could smell them, feel them. Regrets resurfaced. Doubts took shape. Shadows of temptation whispered promises. And unless the student endured, their will would fracture under the weight.
..
Klyden stepped forward first, head high, though his fists were clenched tighter than he realized.
At first, he thought it was empty—until a faint lantern glow flickered, revealing a narrow room. His stomach tightened the moment he recognized it.
A boy sat there, small and restless, knees drawn to his chest. His hair was messy, his eyes too wide. Klyden froze, because the boy was him—years younger.
From the corner of the room, shadows shifted. A figure emerged. No face. No voice. Just the silhouette of an older man, stepping closer, closer—until the air itself turned heavy. The boy fidgeted nervously, whispering words too low to hear, a prayer or maybe an excuse. His small hands trembled as the figure leaned down.
The lantern flickered, and suddenly the walls warped, stretching, pressing inward. The boy's whispers grew desperate, swallowed by the pounding silence. And then—Klyden felt it in his chest, that choking weight of being watched, cornered, trapped.
He wanted to shout, to run into the illusion and tear the boy away, but his body was frozen. Only his heart screamed.
"Stop—" he rasped, his voice cracking.
The figure turned slowly, but still faceless, still silent. And then the boy's eyes met his. Those same eyes, but younger—brimming with shame and confusion. No words. Just that look.
The scene shattered.
Klyden staggered, clutching his shirt as though his ribs might cave in. Sweat slid down his temple. The chamber was empty again, yet the echo lingered—those small, trembling hands, that suffocating silence.
It lasted seconds. But his throat burned like he'd been screaming for hours.
...
Keiya entered next. She breathed once, deeply, and stepped into the dome with the quiet assurance of someone used to storms.
Her illusions came softer, more insidious. A voice like her own whispered: "You're nothing special. You shine, but only next to dull lamps. Alone, your light will fade." The walls melted into endless mirrors, each reflecting a lesser version of herself—slouched, pale, defeated.
But Keiya did not rage. She smiled, faintly, shaking her head. "I know who I am." One by one, the mirrors cracked as her Arcana resonated, a steady pulse of resolve beating outward. She emerged calm, hair unruffled, as if she had simply walked through a storm without being touched.
...
Reiyell strode inside like a queen entering her throne room.
The illusions rose quickly, vicious and violent. Shadows twisted into faceless challengers, blades at her throat, voices hissing: "You'll fail them. You'll break. You're only pretending to be strong."
But Reiyell did not even falter. She raised her chin, icy power glinting faintly at her fingertips. Her Diety's aura flared unconsciously, freezing the false world around her. "You dare?" she whispered, and the illusions crumbled like glass.
When she emerged, it was as though nothing had touched her at all. Her eyes were steady, her lips set in quiet certainty. For her, it was never a question of if.
...
Liora went in quietly, her usual light-hearted energy dimmed.
Her illusions were subtler than the others. She saw her companions, laughing and moving ahead, leaving her behind. She reached for them, but no one turned. Her voice didn't carry, her hands passed through theirs like mist. Forgotten. Invisible.
Her chest tightened, but she drew a slow breath. "Even if I'm left behind…" she whispered to herself, "…I'll walk." Step by steady step, she pushed through the emptiness, forcing her feet forward until the dome released her.
When she emerged, her smile returned—smaller than usual, but present. Neither brilliant nor broken. Simply steady.
...
Ashborne entered. Silence stretched before the dome pulsed again.
Inside, his illusions clawed deep, sharper than blades. He saw his flames failing, his strength faltering, his friends falling because he wasn't enough to save them. Worse still—he saw the faces of those who once believed in him, eyes turned cold, voices spitting: "You are not the hero you think you are. You will fail them all."
The fire within him flickered, dimmed. For a moment, his hand trembled, his heart faltered. He almost yielded. Almost.
Then, with a growl, he pushed forward, forcing the fire back to life, burning through the illusions even as his body shook.
When he stepped out, his face was composed, but those who looked closely saw the faint tremor in his hands. He endured, but the scars of what he faced lingered quietly in his silence.
...
Wads entered last.
At first—nothing. Just pitch black. A silence so thick it pressed on his ears, suffocating. He stood still, waiting, his eyes narrowing.
Then flames. The darkness erupted into a kingdom burning, towers collapsing, screams echoing across the smoky sky. Heat licked his skin, but he did not flinch. His gaze stayed cold, sharp, calculating.
"An illusion," he thought. "Another trick to claw into me."
But the scene shifted, jarring, as though the world itself flickered.
A mirror appeared before him. He expected his reflection—but what stared back was not him. It was a woman. Faceless. Blurred, as though reality rejected her form. He could not tell her features, not her age, not her presence—only the undeniable certainty that she was a woman.
The woman's voice broke through the silence, haunting and raw:
"You cannot save everyone."
A violent throb split through Wads' skull. His knees nearly buckled. He clutched at his chest, lungs refusing to draw air, mouth opening soundlessly as his breath came in ragged gasps.
"I… I will save… everyone," he forced out, voice cracking, a growl and a vow in one.
The woman's blurred face seemed to tremble. She lifted her hands, faceless but weeping. He knew. Somehow, he knew. Tears fell from her though he could not see them.
"You can't even...." she whispered.
His vision split apart.
The flames and the mirror collapsed into dust—and suddenly he could breathe again. He stumbled forward, gasping, sweat beading his forehead.
The scene shifted once more. He was underground. Stone walls, carved runes, a chamber lit by a pale glow. It wasn't ruins—it was deliberate, a sanctum.
His eyes caught movement.
A woman sat at the center of the chamber, a complex magic circle glowing faintly before her. Wads froze, eyes widening slightly.
"Witchcraft…?" he muttered, suspicion rising.
The woman's head turned, slowly. The air around him constricted, heavy.
Her voice—low, commanding, almost familiar.
"Remember."
A sharp ring split his ears, louder than any scream. His head throbbed so violently he thought it might split in two. He staggered, clutching the side of his skull, teeth gritted against the piercing sound.
And then—nothing.
He was standing at the edge of the dome. The trial was over. His hands were slick with sweat, his chest heaving—but there was no pain anymore. Just silence.
Outside, the others waited. Klyden perked up immediately, flashing him a grin.
"About time. How long was I even in there?" Wads asked, his voice low, steady, but his brows furrowed.
Klyden tilted his head, surprised. "What do you mean? Only, like… thirty seconds. You're second fastest, right after Reiyell."
Wads paused. A cold shiver ran down his spine. Thirty seconds?
Inside, it felt like half an hour had passed. Every moment vivid, every word branded into his memory. He said nothing, just exhaled sharply, his expression unreadable.
But deep down—
If that was only thirty seconds…..Wads shook his head shrugging the question away.