Kaelen had already turned to leave when Kyle Snow's voice stopped him.
"You're not done yet."
He paused at the threshold of the Registration Center. Outside, the noise of Swizz City pressed in—voices layered with ambition, fear, and quiet desperation. Inside, the weight of authority still lingered like a hand on the spine.
"Relics," Kyle said, catching up to him. "You haven't chosen yours."
Kaelen looked at her, expression unreadable. "I don't need one."
Kyle frowned. "That's not how it works. An official Kyz Master without a relic is either suicidal or hiding something. Both get noticed."
That last word made him still.
Before he could respond, a familiar presence closed in from behind.
"You will attend," John Snow said calmly.
Kaelen turned.
The Rank 3 General stood with his hands folded behind his back, white hair unmoving despite the draft in the hall. His gaze moved briefly from Kaelen to Kyle, then back again.
"The relic vault is not optional," John continued. "Especially not for you."
"For me?" Kaelen asked.
John did not answer directly. "A carriage is waiting."
The ride through Swizz City was silent.
The carriage bore the insignia of the city general—few dared even glance at it for too long. Streets parted smoothly, guards stepping aside without command. Kaelen watched the city pass by through the narrow window.
He saw the divide clearly now.
Well-dressed officials walking freely.
Rank Seven guards patrolling with bored expressions.
Civilians keeping their eyes low.
Power here was not wild. It was managed.
They stopped before a wide, circular structure embedded deep into stone. No banners marked it. No guards stood openly. Yet Kaelen felt dozens of Kyz signatures the moment he stepped out.
The Relic Vault of Swizz City.
Inside, the air changed.
It was colder—not in temperature, but in intent. Shelves lined the walls, each containing weapons, ornaments, and artifacts sealed behind transparent barriers. Some were inert. Others pulsed faintly, as if breathing.
Kaelen felt it immediately.
A pressure—not hostile, but aware.
Relics were watching.
"These are not weapons," John said as they walked. "They are contracts."
Kyle nodded. Kaelen listened.
"Low-ranking relics respond to force. High-ranking relics respond to compatibility," John continued. "True relics respond only to identity."
They stopped before a sealed chamber.
John turned to Kyle. "Your father left something for you."
Kyle stiffened.
John reached into his robe and withdrew a small pendant.
It was simple—a dark metal chain holding a star-shaped core, etched with fine lines that shifted subtly when observed too closely.
"A Will Relic," John said. "High-ranking."
Kyle's breath caught. "Father's…"
"I stored it here after his death," John said evenly. "If you cannot use it, it will never respond to you again."
No comfort. No encouragement.
Only truth.
They entered the trial chamber.
The room sealed itself the moment Kyle stepped inside.
The space distorted, expanding into a wide arena of black stone. At the far end, movement stirred.
Three shapes emerged.
Rank 10 Kyz Beasts.
Lean, fast, their eyes burning with instinctive hunger.
Kyle raised her hand instinctively, Kyz surging through her channels. The pendant warmed—but nothing happened.
The first beast lunged.
Kyle dodged, barely, and tried again—forcing Kyz into the relic like fuel into a furnace.
Still nothing.
She grit her teeth, panic creeping in.
The second beast struck, grazing her shoulder. Pain flared.
Outside the chamber, John watched impassively.
"Stop," he said, his voice carrying through the barrier. "You are treating it like a tool."
Kyle staggered back, breathing hard. "Then what—"
"A Will Relic does not amplify you," John said. "It answers you."
The beasts circled.
Kyle closed her eyes.
She slowed her breathing. Pulled her Kyz inward instead of outward.
I won't fall here.
The thought was simple. Clear. Undeniable.
The pendant pulsed.
A star-shaped sigil bloomed faintly over her chest.
The beasts hesitated.
Not frozen.
Not afraid.
Rejected.
Their movements slowed, attacks weakening as if the space itself resisted them. Kyle moved—not faster, but more decisively. Each step carried intent.
Moments later, the beasts collapsed, dissolving into mist.
The chamber opened.
A voice echoed mechanically:
Synchronization: 59%.
Kyle sank to one knee, exhausted but alive.
John nodded once. "Acceptable. Your Kyz is compatible. Growth will come through refinement, not force."
Kyle managed a weak smile.
Then John turned.
"Your turn."
Kaelen did not step into the trial immediately.
Instead, he wandered.
Relics lined the walls—spears, rings, gauntlets, bows. As he passed, some vibrated faintly… then went silent.
It was subtle.
But noticeable.
Kyle watched him uneasily. "You should be careful. High-ranking relics can injure or kill incompatible users."
Kaelen stopped before a display.
Inside rested two short blades, dark and narrow, edges so thin they seemed unreal.
Dual Edge Relics.
High-ranking.
Kyle's eyes widened. "Those are—no. Don't touch those."
"They convert Kyz into severance," she said quickly. "Not just physical cuts—circulation, techniques, even intent. People lose limbs trying to use one."
Kaelen said nothing.
He reached out.
The blades did not resist.
They did not react at all.
He picked them up.
John Snow's eyes sharpened.
"Enter," John said quietly.
The trial chamber sealed again.
The arena formed.
This time, five Rank 10 beasts emerged.
Kaelen stood still.
He did not draw the blades.
The beasts advanced.
For a single microsecond—
He stopped holding back.
Not his Kyz.
His weight.
The blades vibrated once.
Then went silent.
The beasts halted mid-step.
Not frozen.
Not crushed.
Separated.
They fell apart along invisible lines, bodies dividing cleanly before dissolving.
Outside the chamber, silence reigned.
John Snow's expression changed.
Just slightly.
The trial had not yet ended.
But the judgment already had.