The Arena of Ash loomed vast and ominous, carved into the bones of a dormant volcano. Black stone and ancient glyphs etched into the walls pulsed faintly with mana, resonating like a heartbeat beneath the soles of a thousand students.
The air was tight with tension. Anxiety rippled across the sea of fresh recruits. Most looked confident, some terrified, a few outright clueless.
Cassian Elor stood at the edge of the crowd, arms crossed, gaze flicking across the battlefield.
His body was still unfamiliar. The lingering weight of someone else's muscle memory. The way it moved, reacted. Faster than his old self, stronger too—but still green.
And today, they were being thrown into the deep end.
He wasn't here to play the hero.
He wasn't here to be a statistic either.
He was here to watch.
A shimmer split the air above the arena as floating platforms materialized in layered rings around the battlefield. Professors, robed examiners, and silent observers stepped into place. At the highest point stood Lucien Vael, the Headmaster of Arcanis Academy, an SS-ranked existence whose very presence made the air feel heavier.
Beside him stood a dozen professors, arcane advisors, and behind them—4th-year students, veterans of trials past, watching like hawks above a pit of bloodsport.
Their expressions were unreadable. Cold. Curious. Detached.
They weren't here to cheer.
They were here to measure.
Lucien spoke.
His voice wasn't loud, but it carved through the murmurs like a blade.
"You are the thousand selected from tens of thousands. A privilege earned not by strength alone, but potential."
He raised a hand.
"This is your crucible."
Silence rippled outward.
"No teams. No mercy. No resets. You will endure for six hours, in a live combat simulation. Mana will not regenerate. Healing is not guaranteed."
He stepped forward slightly. His gaze passed over every soul.
"And though death is not the goal—it is not forbidden."
A collective breath was sucked in.
Cassian, arms still crossed, watched a boy beside him clutch his wrist tightly. Another started mumbling a prayer under his breath.
Lucien's final words echoed like a war drum:
"Let the Trial of Ember—begin."
The arena exploded.
Spells howled through the air. Bolts of fire, wind, stone, and lightning crisscrossed above them. Screams erupted, some from excitement, most from panic. Students scattered like startled birds, forming makeshift teams, or simply bolting for cover.
But Cassian?
Cassian didn't move.
[Status Window – Cassian Elor]
Name: Cassian Elor
Race: Human (Transmigrated)
Bloodline: ??? (Sealed)
Talent Limit: ???
Rank: G+
Level: 2
Affinity: Arcane (Unawakened)
Stats
Strength: 11
Agility: 13
Vitality: 11
Perception: 14
Willpower: 15
Mana: 12
Skills:
[Boundary Sense – Lv. 1]
[Unarmed Combat Basics – Lv. 2]
[Spatial Awareness – Passive]
[Low-tier Mana Detection – Lv. 1]
Titles:
[Anomaly of the Codex]
[Fated Echo]
[Stranger to the Pattern]
No regen. No healing. And only the strongest make it through without showing their hand too early.
Cassian narrowed his eyes, then slipped into the shadow of a crumbling pillar, his steps careful and silent.
All around him, chaos bloomed.
A girl wielding wind blades bisected a tree-sized spike of ice. A boy with a halberd roared as fire danced across his shoulders. Bodies slammed into stone. Explosions cracked the floor.
Cassian crouched behind cover, eyes sharp.
I need to observe. See who's impulsive. Who's competent. Who's too dangerous to ignore.
And more importantly… who lives like they know they'll be the protagonist.
His gaze swept across the battlefield—then stopped.
There, moving like he was born for war, was Ren Arkwright.
The boy's white-gold aura pulsed with every step. Graceful, poised, deliberate. Not wasting a single motion. He cast a radiant shockwave that blasted three students back without even glancing at them.
Cassian's lip curled slightly
Of course you're already glowing, pretty boy.
He leaned deeper into the shadows and made a note.
He didn't hate Ren.
He just hated what he represented—a world that revolved around people like him.
High above, the observers whispered.
"That one—black hair, long coat—he hasn't moved at all."
"Is he frozen"?
Cassian remained still
Watching the way fire-affinity students burned through mana too fast.
Watching how lightning users exhausted themselves showing off.
Watching who panicked and who adapted.
That was the real test.
Not power.
Survival.
And in the shadows of a broken monument, Cassian Elor—once a background character, now something else entirely—smiled to himself.
He wasn't here to be seen.
He was here to make sure when they did see him… they never forgot.