Luminis' skyline was traced by factory chimneys rising into the sky, cloaking the city in smoke. The Iron Bridge at the main gate trembled under the weight of steam-powered engines. Vespera's soldiers, clad in brass armor, stood watch on both sides of the bridge, recording everyone who passed.
Kalen placed a firm hand on Aras' shoulder. "Every step you take here is watched. One mistake, and not just you—Eryndor will pay the price."
Aras examined the massive gate at the end of the bridge. It bore the emblem of Vespera—a gear and sword motif engraved into the surface.
Talis slipped up beside them like a shadow, holding out a stolen Vespera ID card. "We can slip in with these. But be careful—this city's tech records every move we make."
Aras scanned the surroundings with a side glance. "Then we'll play by their rules."
The Grand Hall of the Academy was filled with the heavy scent of engineering. Diagrams of steam-age war machines hung on the walls, showcasing Vespera's power.
Magister Orlan Duskbane sat at the head of a table, flipping through documents. He placed a paper in front of Aras.
"Why did Eryndor retreat in the last battle?"
Aras picked up the pen, recalling from his father's war journals the logistical failures and insufficient steam venting systems. He wrote:
"Because technological superiority overshadowed strategic wisdom."
The magister's eyes narrowed. He sealed the paper with a steam press. "Correct," he said, "but that answer makes you a rival."
Seraphina Vesper smirked mockingly from the back row. "Wars are won with iron and fire—not with theories on paper."
Aras noticed the mechanical brace on her wrist—Vespera's latest weapon tech.
Beneath Luminis, the tunnels reeked of steam pressure and oil. Gears on the walls suddenly activated; one candidate's leg got caught and broke.
Talis's voice came through a tiny comm in Aras's ear.
"Close the valve on your left! Stop the pressure surge!"
Aras lunged for the valve. Just then, a mechanical battle droid appeared in the corridor, eyes glowing red, bearing Seraphina's crest.
Aras drew the Widowmaker—his father's custom firearm—and loaded a special bullet. He fired.
Bang!
The shot pierced the droid's eye and struck the steam core behind it. The explosion shook the tunnel.
Magister Orlan stepped from the shadows. "Not exactly... traditional."
Aras dusted himself off. "The only rule in battle is survival."
The arena floor was slick with motor oil and sand. Spectators shouted from the stands.
Captain Veylin challenged him with two steam-powered cog-blades in hand. "I'll crush you in a minute, boy!"
Aras dropped a smoke bomb from his pocket. Using ambush tactics he learned from his mother, he clouded Veylin's vision.
The crowd held its breath.
Aras aimed the Widowmaker—it was empty. But Veylin still raised his shield out of reflex.
In that split second, Aras rolled forward, using a move he learned in Talis's street fights, and slammed his steel-toed boot into Veylin's knee.
The captain dropped to the ground. "That... wasn't honorable combat!"
Aras smiled through ringing ears. "No. It was real."
In the Academy's Grand Hall, an envoy from Lysara handed over a scroll.
"You've been accepted. But remember—Vespera is watching."
Aras bowed slightly, hand on the dagger at his belt. "Honor is enough for me."
At the threshold, Seraphina lay in wait. Her hand reached for the bag containing Aras's father's battle plans.
Talis glided in like a shadow, pressing a blade to her throat.
"One more step, and I'll paint those pretty curls red."
As Aras stepped outside, he looked up at Luminis's smoky skies.
"We're going to change this place," he whispered.
Talis pulled out a steam bomb. "Literally, or...?"