The Trial Grounds were carved into the heart of the academy's oldest courtyard. A circle of black stone, etched with elemental sigils, radiated outward like a sunburst. Here, the empire tested not only strength but legacy. Every noble student faced the Trial of Elements before rising to higher ranks.
The rules were simple: endure the storm. Fire, water, earth, and wind would lash at the challenger in escalating fury. One must stand tall, wielding their affinity until the trial itself yielded.
Most relied on brute power. They flung fire to counter fire, raised stone against stone, tried to overwhelm the storm until exhaustion claimed them. The academy rewarded resilience—how much punishment a student could withstand before falling.
But Lucian Ardelion had no intention of playing by their rules.
The courtyard was packed. Students filled the stands, their chatter buzzing with anticipation. The nobles had come in force, eager to see the "crownless wolf" humbled by tradition.
Calvus Renard leaned against the railing, lips curled in a sneer. "Let us see how far a fluke's luck carries him."
Alaric Veynar smirked. "If the storm doesn't break him, we will."
The rector himself presided from the high seat, robes gleaming with embroidered sigils. His voice carried across the grounds.
"Lucian Ardelion. Step forward."
Lucian entered the circle with calm, deliberate steps. The whispers swelled around him. He'll fail.He has no true power.He can't match the prodigies.
He ignored them all. His gaze swept across the sigils carved into the stone. He had studied this place in his first life. He remembered how the storm broke him once, leaving him coughing blood and crawling in disgrace.
This time, the trial would not break him.
This time, he would break it.
The rector raised his hand. "Begin."
The sigils flared. Heat rippled as fire roared to life, encircling Lucian in a blazing ring. The crowd cheered.
Lucian did not summon flame. Instead, he extended his hand, weaving subtle gestures. From his palm spread not fire, but shadow—thin tendrils that licked across the ground, devouring the flames' light.
The crowd gasped. Fire dimmed, shadows thickened, until the blaze sputtered.
Lucian lowered his hand. The fire ring flickered out.
Murmurs rippled. "He… smothered it?""That's not how the trial works—""He's cheating!"
The rector's eyes narrowed but said nothing. The trial continued.
The next element surged: water. Jets burst from the ground, crashing down in torrents meant to drown him.
Lucian stepped lightly, tracing runes with his foot. The water struck the sigils, splintering into harmless mist that rolled across the circle. He moved like a dancer, turning each surge into spray, never once lifting his own elemental affinity.
To the crowd, it was sorcery. To Lucian, it was memory—an old scholar's trick he had unearthed in the Forbidden Library.
The mist curled around him like a cloak. His silhouette was faint, untouchable.
The ground trembled. The third element: earth. Spikes of stone erupted, jagged spears racing toward him.
Lucian crouched, pressing his palm flat to the ground. He whispered a sigil—one carved into his mind only nights before. The spikes halted mid-rise, quivering as though frozen.
Then, with a flick of his fingers, they crumbled into dust.
Gasps erupted. Even Seren, watching from the stands, gripped the railing tightly. "He's… unraveling the trial itself."
Kael grinned like a wolf. "That's my friend."
The last element howled: wind. A cyclone formed, fierce enough to tear a lesser student from their feet. The crowd leaned forward eagerly.
Lucian did not resist. He let the wind lift him, cloak snapping, hair whipping. At the storm's peak, he traced a sigil in the air, one forbidden in official dueling. The cyclone bent, twisted—then collapsed inward, its energy folding into silence.
The courtyard fell deathly quiet. The storm was gone.
Lucian stood untouched at the circle's center. Calm. Steady. His hands lowered as though the entire ordeal had been no more than a rehearsal.
The silence broke with whispers.
"He didn't fight it… he ended it.""That's impossible. No one has ever—""He cheated the trial!"
But beneath the outrage lurked something sharper: awe.
The rector rose, eyes unreadable. His voice was firm. "The Trial of Elements… concludes. Lucian Ardelion, you endure."
The stands erupted—some in cheers, others in protest.
Calvus Renard slammed his fist against the railing. "Tricks! He spat on the tradition!"
Alaric's eyes were narrow, calculating. "No… he revealed something dangerous. He bends rules as easily as storms."
When Lucian stepped from the circle, Seren was there, her expression unreadable.
"You didn't endure it. You broke it."
Lucian met her gaze calmly. "Why endure chains, when you can shatter them?"
Kael laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "The nobles are choking on their pride, and I've never been happier."
Seren's voice was softer. "You're walking a thin line. If they can't defeat you, they'll brand you heretic."
Lucian's eyes glinted. "Let them. I am not here to play their game. I am here to win it."
That night, in his dormitory, he studied the sigils again, replaying each moment of the trial in his mind.
The Forbidden Library's knowledge had proven itself. But it was only the beginning. If he could bend a trial, what else might he twist?
He dipped his quill, writing in his ledger:
Do not endure what you can dismantle.Do not resist what you can redirect.Do not fight storms. Rewrite them.
The wolf was no longer learning to survive.
He was learning to rewrite the laws of the hunt.
Far above, in the noble halls, letters flew swiftly. Reports of his trial spread like wildfire. Some called him genius. Others, a threat to the order itself.
In a chamber lit only by candlelight, the masked figure from the Forbidden Library whispered to an unseen companion:
"The boy learns quickly. Perhaps too quickly."
A voice from the dark replied:
"Then we must decide soon—whether he is to be tempered… or extinguished."