The awakening of the ancient pillar had done more than sever the principal's spying gaze—it had stirred something older, something far beyond the intentions of Trinity Academy's examiners.
Before Connor stood Woo, an earth spirit who bore the guise of a white-bearded turtle walking upright, its presence radiating patience and authority. Unlike the beasts of the forest or the magical constructs of men, Woo carried the weight of centuries. For four hundred years, it had guarded these woods, and in Connor's presence, it sensed something deeply unnatural.
Instead of casting him out, the spirit beckoned. Connor followed, guided through shadowed paths where the branches knitted so thick above that sunlight barely touched the soil. Damp earth swallowed each step. The deeper they went, the stronger the weight of age pressed upon him, as though the forest itself were breathing.
Kyle's voice echoed within Connor's mind, urging compliance. To reject a spirit was to tempt disaster. Even if the path seemed foolish, the knowledge gained might one day prove priceless. And so Connor walked.
The truth revealed itself piece by piece. Kyle, ever calm, admitted what the spirit had sensed: in another life, in a future Connor had yet to live, he had forged a pact with the earth itself. The spirit mistook echoes of that bond for Connor's own. What Woo felt within him was not his present, but the shadow of what he would one day become.
The thought was staggering. Rune magic, unmatched swordsmanship, and now hints of spirit mastery? The shape of his future was monstrous. And yet, how absurd—the contracted spirit would not be a majestic beast, but a bearded turtle with a grumbling voice. Connor could not decide whether to feel awe or dismay.
Woo halted at a clearing cloaked in gloom. The air was colder here, thick with ancient moisture. Pointing to a stump at the center, the spirit ordered Connor to sit. The test, it said, was not yet finished. It would investigate him, searching for the truth behind the earth magic that clung to his soul.
Connor obeyed, wary but resolved. If discovered, Kyle's existence could unravel everything. Yet Kyle assured him that no spirit, not even one born of the world's foundation, could pierce their secret.
The ground shifted. The dirt rippled like water, and Connor's instincts screamed. His hand flew to his sword, only to falter as Woo's gaze silenced him. From the soil, stones emerged—small, round, and alive. Rocks sprouted limbs, their bodies crude yet animated, radiating warmth.
These were Gnomes, lesser earth spirits, seldom seen by mortals. In most lands, they would remain formless, but here, in the Forest of Courage, their presence grew tangible. One by one, they surfaced until dozens circled him, chittering in voices like grinding pebbles.
As they danced around him, a strange comfort seeped into his bones. The fatigue of the trial melted away. His body grew light, as though the earth itself lent him strength. Curiosity overtook caution. He caught one in his hand. The gnome flailed, then folded its arms with indignation, though it had no face to scowl with. Connor, half-amused, apologized before setting it free.
Woo stroked his beard, muttering. He could feel the purity of earth's power in Connor but could not find its source. Such untainted magic was impossible for humans. Even spirit contractors bore imperfections, the bond leaving traces of imbalance. But Connor's aura was… too clean. Too natural. Like the power of the earth itself had chosen him without condition.
At last, Woo conceded defeat. The gnomes returned underground, vanishing into soil and silence. The warmth faded, leaving only the damp air. Woo apologized, his voice heavy with age, for stealing away Connor's time during the exam. Yet before Connor could leave, the spirit extended its claw.
A mark bloomed upon Connor's arm—glowing, then fading until invisible. It was a Token of the Earth Spirit, a sign that would shield him from hostility, wherever earth's children dwelled. Such gifts were rare beyond measure. To carry it was to be recognized by the world's foundation itself.
But Woo warned him: never reveal this encounter. Least of all to Parcaso.
Connor agreed, and with that, left the forest.
Yet what he thought ended there was only the surface.
Once he had gone, the forest stirred again. Within the same clearing gathered the Four Great Spirits who ruled over this domain:
Woo, the earth turtle, guardian of roots and soil.
Higa, the fire spirit, a blazing bird whose feathers burned without consuming.
Ke, the wind spirit, a striped tiger whose every breath carried storms.
Mu, the water spirit, a dragon long and serpentine, its scales shimmering like rivers.
These beings, rarely convening, had been drawn together by a single question: Who was Connor McCloud?
Woo recounted his findings, but even spirits could not fathom the truth. Connor's magic was not a Gift, nor a trick. It was too pure, too close to the essence of a spirit itself. To meddle with such a human was dangerous. To inform Parcaso was unthinkable. For now, they could only wait, wary of the storms that his existence would one day summon.
The firebird scoffed, urging the awakening of their kings—the ancient monarchs of the elemental domains. But Woo silenced such talk. That slumber was reserved for when the world itself teetered on destruction. And though Connor was strange, the time had not yet come. Not yet.
Meanwhile, at the forest's edge, the exam ended with formality. Merog, the stone golem examiner, announced Connor's success. Hall Rank 20—an advancement worthy of recognition. Connor accepted, shaking the creature's heavy hand. Relief washed over him. It was finished. Or so he thought.
But Parcaso was not so easily evaded. From Merog's satchel, a blank canvas was drawn. Colors bled across its surface, painting themselves into the principal's face. A projection, alive and smirking.
The principal's eyes gleamed with mischief and suspicion. He pressed Connor for answers: had he seen anything in the forest, touched anything, met anything unusual? The words of Woo rang in his ears: "Don't tell that guy, even if you die."
Connor hesitated, then blurted the first excuse Kyle offered. He had seen… a squirrel.
Parcaso's smile froze, then thinned. He dismissed Connor, but his mind churned. The act of severing a servant beast's link had been no accident. It was a deliberate strike, proof that Connor's instincts reached far beyond what a student should possess. To sense and disrupt the surveillance of the world's greatest mage—that alone demanded reevaluation.
As Connor retreated, Parcaso's laughter faded into thought. He whispered the name of an old comrade long gone, Petra, and pondered. The boy's mysteries multiplied with each step. Rune magic. Swordsmanship. Now the earth's aura. Answers remained elusive, but time was his ally.
The test had ended. The promotion was earned. But the shadow of deeper trials stretched long ahead.
Connor McCloud had caught the eye of both men and spirits. And the world was beginning to stir.