Chapter 1: The Last Trial
---
Rain drummed softly on the slate rooftops of Luther Academy, each droplet a slow drumbeat counting down the end of an era.
Jean Luther stood alone on the dueling platform, the white stone slick with moisture beneath her boots. Her long, snow-colored hair clung to her back, soaked by the storm. The crimson cape of a graduating Master rippled at her shoulders, heavy with the weight of tradition.
A hundred students watched from the stands, silent. Instructors lined the perimeter, faces grim beneath their hoods. Above them all, seated upon a raised stone balcony carved with the emblems of the Luther Clan, sat Charles Luther, the Grand Patriarch himself. His eyes, steel-gray and merciless, never blinked.
This was no ceremony.
This was her final test.
A single opponent stood across from her: Instructor Kain, a Grand Master of the third seat. His sword was drawn, aura thrumming violently along the steel—scarlet and hungry. No mercy. No restraint.
"Jean Luther," his voice echoed. "By the decree of the Patriarch, you are to be tested not as a student, but as a candidate for the path of the Envoy Knights. Do you understand what this means?"
Jean didn't blink. "I do."
"To pass, you must last five minutes against me… or draw my blood. Whichever comes first."
A pause.
"Should you fail," he continued, "you will not graduate."
She nodded once. "I'm ready."
Kain's eyes narrowed. "Begin."
He moved like lightning. One instant he was still, the next his blade was a flash of red flame, arcing toward her throat.
Jean stepped in, not back. Her sword met his with a flash of light—her aura, radiant gold, burst outward in a wave that rippled through the rain like a sun being born. The clash thundered through the arena. Sparks hissed into steam.
She spun, dropping low. Kain's blade whistled over her head, and she surged upward, slicing for his shoulder—he twisted, parried, and countered with brutal precision. Her boots slid across the stone as she retreated, narrowly dodging a slash meant to end her.
Five minutes, she reminded herself. I just need five minutes.
But her heartbeat quickened. She could feel the gaze of her grandfather watching, judging—not her skill, but her will.
Kain came again. His aura flared violently, and this time he didn't hold back. With every strike, he tested her technique, her instinct, her soul. Her golden aura met his blood-red fury with equal force, each exchange lighting the platform like twin stars colliding.
The rain turned to mist around them. Steam rose with every step.
Time blurred.
And then—an opening.
He lunged.
Jean pivoted beneath his guard, aura flaring with everything she had, and drove the tip of her sword—
—into his left shoulder.
Blood sprayed across the white stone.
Silence.
Kain's eyes widened just slightly… then he smiled.
The platform's edge erupted in cheers. Even the instructors stood in stunned approval.
Above them, Charles Luther didn't move. But he nodded once.
Jean dropped to one knee, gasping. Her sword clattered beside her. The rain finally began to ease.
She had passed.
But in the silence that followed, a voice echoed in her mind—soft, celestial.
"My chosen blade… soon, your real trials will begin."
Jean looked up at the clouds.
And far above, unseen by all but her…
A sliver of light broke through.
---