Kai arrived fifteen minutes early, mostly because he didn't trust himself not to get lost again.
The guild hall's interior was a maze of stone halls, rattling pipes, mismatched signs, and adventurers moving at terrifying speeds. Every corridor smelled like leather, burnt mana, and that faint salty tang of nervous sweat.
When he finally found Training Room C, he paused in the doorway.
And stared.
The room looked like it had survived a bar brawl between two dragons—barely. One wall was scorched black. The floorboards were warped in three places. A wooden dummy leaned at a suspicious angle in the far corner with a dagger still embedded in its head. One ceiling lantern flickered ominously, casting nervous shadows.
And the chairs—gods, the chairs.
One was missing a leg and propped up by a stack of spellbooks. One was just a barrel. Another was… technically a stool, if you didn't mind the splinter jutting out like a spike trap.
Kai blinked. "Well. At least I'm used to tetanus."
He picked the least stabby seat and waited, bouncing one knee and fiddling with the strap of his satchel. The scroll crinkled inside.
One by one, other rookies began to arrive. Most wore basic leathers or robes. Some had shiny new weapons still smelling like store polish. Most looked nervous. A few looked hungover. One guy walked in, sneezed, and immediately walked out again.
Then came the door slam.
Zaveid entered.
He wore the same cloak as yesterday, only now with what appeared to be a feathered pauldron stitched on, a fake black eyepatch (still over his perfectly healthy eye), and some sort of painted rune smeared across his cheek in purple chalk.
"Fate spins its wheel again," he intoned dramatically, walking in as though music were swelling behind him. "And lo, the cursed chamber calls the chosen few."
Several students leaned away from him instinctively.
Kai waved. "Morning."
Zaveid pointed at him with one gloved hand. "The mudborn. Marked by prophecy."
"…Still Kai."
"I have accepted your role in the coming calamity."
"That's great. Want the chair with only one exposed nail or the one with a mysterious stain?"
Zaveid took the barrel, sat cross-legged atop it, and adjusted his cape like a king on a throne.
Then the door swung open again—and this time it wasn't subtle.
Lira Flamewind stepped in like she was kicking down destiny.
Her red hair was tied back tighter, her staff glowed faintly at her side, and her scowl was already in place. She paused in the doorway, scanned the room, and then locked eyes with Kai.
And immediately turned around.
The door handle didn't budge.
She jiggled it.
It didn't move.
Locked.
She sighed through her teeth. "Of course."
Kai gave a friendly shrug. "Hi again."
Zaveid stood and bowed deeply. "Lady of Embers. Your arrival completes the triangle of doom."
Lira glared at him. "You. Again."
Then to Kai: "What did I do in a past life to deserve this?"
Kai considered. "Maybe you also slipped in a puddle in front of a hundred people."
Lira made a noise that could peel paint.
She stalked to a chair—the unstable one on stacked books—and sat with arms crossed, tapping her heel against the floor like a war drum.
The rest of the room gave their group a respectable amount of distance.
Kai sat upright, trying to look responsible.
He had a feeling things were about to go… somewhere.
Probably downhill.
---
The door creaked open again—this time with far less drama—and in stepped a wiry man with chalk dust on his robe and a perpetual squint like he'd stared too long into arcane explosions. He carried a clipboard under one arm and a glowing crystal orb under the other.
"Morning," he grunted. "Name's Instructor Bale. This is Team Trials. Don't die. Questions?"
Silence.
Bale dropped the orb on the center table. It hovered, spinning slowly, projecting a glowing blueprint of the room—except on fire.
"Scenario one," he said, tapping the orb. "Your objective is to protect this." He pointed to a flickering image of a wooden mannequin holding a scroll. "That's your 'client.' Don't let it burn, explode, or fall over."
The orb rotated again. Now the floor was glowing with red Xs and glowing traps. "Meanwhile, you must disarm the fake magical traps we've scattered around the room. Bonus points if no one gets zapped."
He squinted around. "Groups of three. We already randomized them this morning. No swaps. If you complain, I give your slot to someone on the waiting list."
There was a paper rustle as he pulled a scroll from his coat.
"Group Six: Kai Everhart, Zaveid Obsidianblade…"
Zaveid stood dramatically, cloak flaring behind him.
"…and Lira Flamewind."
Silence.
Then, from Lira: "No."
Bale didn't even look up. "Group Six. Table three."
"I'm not working with the puddle boy and the lunatic."
Bale flipped a page.
"Fine," Lira snapped. "But if either of them sets me on fire, I'm walking."
Zaveid gave her a flourishing bow. "Fear not. My flames are reserved for enemies and destiny alone."
Lira narrowed her eyes. "Do you ever not talk like that?"
"Only in battle."
Kai followed them to the third setup station, where a wooden dummy was tied to a chair in the center of a taped circle. A faint shimmer on the floor hinted at hidden wards, and several objects nearby pulsed with enchantment—glowing runes, a ticking crystal, and what looked suspiciously like a half-charged mana battery with a poorly attached label reading DON'T TOUCH.
Bale clapped once. "You've got ten minutes. Fail states include: dummy explodes, dummy melts, dummy electrocutes you, or someone panics and runs into a ward. Begin."
A bell chimed.
Zaveid immediately raised one hand and declared, "I shall take the arcane perimeter. The cursed lines speak to me."
Kai knelt beside the dummy. "I can hold the scroll steady? That seems important, right?"
Lira had already stepped away from them both. She examined the ticking crystal.
"No, no, no. This is basic mana-thread wiring," she muttered. "Whoever set this up used amateur layering. I can burn it out in one shot."
Zaveid glanced over. "Fire? Indoors? Bold."
"It'll be fine." Lira raised her staff. "It's a low-yield bolt."
Kai raised a hand. "Should we—"
She cast.
A small, fast-moving bolt of fire shot from her staff—and instantly ricocheted off the wall's magic-proof coating.
It hit the ceiling.
It bounced.
Then it struck the dummy directly in the chest.
FWOMP.
The mannequin exploded into a pile of burning sawdust.
The ward lines around the room sparked red.
Someone screamed behind them.
Zaveid gasped. "THE PROPHECY—!"
Lira stood still, eyes wide.
Kai coughed once through the smoke and said, very calmly:
"…I don't think that was low-yield."
---
The smoke rolled like a lazy beast across the splintered floor.
Flames licked up the remains of the practice dummy, casting flickering light across the wide-eyed trainees and the scorch-marked ceiling. The faint buzz of an overloaded mana line pulsed in the walls—then popped with a tiny, pathetic spark.
Lira stood with her staff still outstretched, hair slightly tousled by the heat burst, lips pressed together in a thin line of pure denial.
"I said low-yield," she muttered, not moving.
"You did," Kai agreed, fanning smoke with both hands. "And that was… impressively not that."
Zaveid had dropped to one knee beside the glowing ward lines, waving his hand over the flickering symbols. "The runes are bleeding," he whispered. "We have awakened the sealed flames of the trial dimension."
Kai coughed again. "Pretty sure that's just the backup heating system catching fire."
Behind them, several instructors were shouting. One group of trainees backed out of the room entirely, holding their noses. A boy near the door gagged theatrically and dramatically collapsed into a chair.
Lira turned sharply toward Kai and hissed, "Don't just stand there—put it out!"
"How?! I don't have a 'Stop Fire' spell! I barely passed torch-lighting back home!"
"Then do something before someone writes an incident report!"
Kai looked around in a panic. The fire was spreading from the dummy's ashes to a stack of old spellbooks nearby. Paper curled and blackened.
Then he saw it—a cracked copper pipe in the wall. It was hissing faintly.
"…Oh, that's either plumbing or high-pressure steam."
Zaveid raised a hand. "Steam is water's dramatic cousin. Use it."
That was good enough for Kai.
He grabbed a chair leg, ran toward the pipe, and smacked it hard.
The pipe dented. Hissed louder. Shuddered.
Lira's eyes widened. "Wait, wait, don't—"
CRACK—PSHHHHHHHHHT!
A geyser of lukewarm water exploded from the break, blasting into the fire and half the room.
It doused the flames… and soaked everyone.
Kai stumbled back, dripping and triumphant.
The fire hissed into silence.
Then, silence all around.
Instructor Bale stood in the doorway, arms folded, soaked from the knees down.
Smoke curled lazily around his ears.
His clipboard was on fire.
"…That," he said slowly, "was not the plan."
Lira pointed at Zaveid. "His fault."
"I merely observed fate unfolding," Zaveid said calmly, wringing out his sleeve.
Kai lowered the broken chair leg and tried a weak smile.
"Technically," he said, "we did protect the client."
Everyone turned toward the center.
The dummy was a pile of blackened sticks.
Kai pointed to its legs. "Well, we protected… the base?"
Lira groaned.
Bale sighed and scratched something onto a scorched notepad.
"For the record," he muttered, "Group Six is very lucky I hate paperwork."
---
The fire was out.
The dummy was gone.
The room smelled like burnt glue, damp socks, and shame.
Instructor Bale was soaked and trying to relight his clipboard with a flicker of spellfire. It wasn't working.
Most of the other teams were pressed against the far wall, whispering, wide-eyed. A few were taking notes. One student looked positively thrilled. Another pointed to Zaveid and mouthed, Is he possessed?
Zaveid took it all in stride.
He stood on a charred section of floor, cape spread wide like a raven in mid-caw, water dripping from the hem.
"Fear not," he declared. "The realm is secure. The cleansing steam has banished the cursed spark of ruin. You are safe within my shadow."
Kai tilted his head. "You know you didn't actually cast anything, right?"
Zaveid leaned closer. "I saved two civilians with my cloak. That counts."
He pointed to two students huddled behind a desk.
Sure enough, his damp cloak had shielded them from a burst of flying splinters during the chaos. They stared at him like he was some kind of myth.
"Uh… thanks," one muttered.
Zaveid simply nodded like a benevolent storm cloud.
Kai turned to Lira, who was furiously wringing her gloves dry.
"For the record," she said before he could speak, "that was not my fault. Those trap wards were improperly shielded."
"Right," Kai said, smirking, "and the dummy was asking for it."
"It was," she said coldly. "It had smug energy."
Instructor Bale finally gave up on the clipboard. He dropped it with a wet plap and pointed to the trio.
"Sit. Don't touch anything. Try not to combust."
They obeyed, dripping slightly as they moved to the back row of warped chairs. Lira sat as far from Kai and Zaveid as possible. Zaveid sat like a brooding prince. Kai just exhaled and slumped.
Across the room, someone whispered, "That's Group Six? That was them?"
"They broke the trial," another muttered.
"I think the dummy actually screamed."
Kai closed his eyes.
So much for blending in.
---
"Hey," Zaveid said, nudging him.
Kai cracked one eye open.
"You acted fast. Not bad for a stable mage."
"Stableboy," Kai corrected.
Zaveid gave a dramatic shrug. "Same thing. I award you… two points of improvisational valor."
Lira snorted from across the row.
"I award him zero," she said. "And a warning label."
Kai grinned.
Then rubbed a welt on his arm. "Okay, but real talk—what if this was the easy test?"
Zaveid leaned in, eyes glowing with theatrical menace.
"Then we shall fall in fire and rise in legend."
Kai sighed.
"Great. We'll burn our way to greatness."
Lira muttered, "You're halfway there already."
---
Instructor Bale stood with arms folded and water still dripping from his robes.
The last of the other groups finished their far more peaceful, fire-free trials. Some dummies had minor burns, one had a leg chewed off by a summoned spirit fox, and one was glowing faintly pink—but none were outright destroyed.
Bale made a rough grunting sound as he skimmed his smoke-streaked notes.
"Group Six," he announced dryly, "your teamwork was... catastrophic. Your dummy is now mulch. You broke a city pipe. You violated no fewer than four safety regulations, one of which involved indoor combustion near a mana containment rune."
He paused.
Zaveid gave a proud bow. "So… we passed?"
Lira crossed her arms.
Kai gave a cautious thumbs-up.
Bale slowly opened his mouth to continue—
"Hold."
The word was crisp, clipped, and came from the doorway.
Everyone turned.
A woman stood there, framed in the half-burnt doorframe. She wore a simple navy cloak with silver trim, her long braid dusted with snowflakes that hadn't fallen anywhere else. An insignia—three overlapping swords—glimmered on her lapel.
Her eyes were pale grey. Cold and unreadable.
Instructor Bale straightened. "Deputy Assessor Verrin."
Selene Verrin stepped lightly over a scorch mark and surveyed the room with all the warmth of a tax ledger.
"I've been observing from the scrying dome," she said. "Group Six's method was unorthodox. But effective."
Lira blinked. "You're kidding."
Selene ignored her.
"They demonstrated three core competencies under pressure: adaptive response, protective instinct, and situational control."
"Control?!" Lira hissed.
"Intentional or not," Selene continued, "they neutralized a critical hazard, shielded bystanders, and performed mana improvisation without formal training. That's rare."
She turned to Bale.
"I'm approving them as a provisional team. Assign them accordingly. Evaluation period: one week."
Then she walked out.
No fanfare. No smile. Just the click of her boots fading into the hallway.
Silence lingered.
Bale stared after her, then sighed like a man preparing to write a very long, very reluctant report.
"Fine," he muttered. "Group Six—officially listed as a provisional unit. Your party file starts tomorrow. Room G-5. Don't break anything on the way there."
Kai blinked. "Wait—we passed?"
Zaveid held both hands aloft. "The fates rejoice!"
Lira dropped her face into her hands. "I hate this."
Bale pointed toward the exit. "Get out before I change my mind. And don't touch any plumbing again."
---
Outside the scorched training room, the three of them stood in awkward silence.
Lira sighed. "This is temporary. Temporary."
Kai nodded. "Sure. Just until we… I don't know, burn down a whole building?"
She glared.
Zaveid raised his hand. "Do we have a team name?"
"No," Lira said.
"Yes," Zaveid said. "We shall be known as the—"
Kai walked away before he could finish.
Zaveid followed dramatically. Lira stomped after them, muttering something about fate and incompetence and water damage.
Above them, the sky had cleared.
For now.
---