The Academy's testing grounds occupied a vast courtyard at the complex's center, surrounded by tiered marble seats where Masters and visiting dignitaries could observe. By the time the Van Hellsin brothers arrived, hundreds of candidates had already gathered—children ranging from eight to sixteen years old, all dressed in the white testing robes the Academy had provided. The air itself seemed to shimmer with concentrated Pneuma, so many young wielders gathered in one place creating an almost visible distortion.
Thorwald drew admiring glances immediately. His golden hair caught the morning sun, his physique already showing the promise of the warrior he would become, his Pneuma radiating with a clean, powerful signature that marked him as nobility even without the Van Hellsin name. Several candidates nodded to him with respect, recognizing quality when they sensed it.
Kami, by contrast, drew stares of a different kind.
He was small for his age, his features still bearing that unfortunate arrangement that made servants cross themselves and mothers pull their children away. But it was more than his appearance. Those with any Pneuma sensitivity at all could feel something wrong about him—a pulling sensation, as though standing near a whirlpool, as though the air itself wanted to flow into him and disappear.
"What is that?" a girl whispered loudly, pointing at Kami with undisguised revulsion. She wore robes of expensive silk beneath her testing whites, and her dark hair was bound with golden thread—clearly a senator's daughter.
"It looks like something that crawled out of the sewers," another voice replied, male this time, rich with contempt.
Kami turned to face the speaker and found himself looking at what could only be Cassius Tiberion. The old philosopher Archimedes had spoken true—there was indeed a boy of that name, and he was everything Kami was not. Cassius stood tall and proud, his features aristocratic and handsome, his bearing that of someone born to command. His Pneuma signature was immense, easily the strongest among the candidates, burning like a bonfire compared to the candles surrounding him.
But more than that, Kami could sense something else in Cassius—a hatred so pure and focused it was almost beautiful. The Tiberion heir had spotted Kami instantly, had felt the nature of his Pneuma, and in that moment had decided that Kami Van Hellsin was an enemy to be destroyed.
"Cassius Tiberion," Thorwald said, his voice carrying a warning edge as he stepped beside his brother. "I am Thorwald Van Hellsin, and this is my brother Kami. I trust you will show the courtesy expected of the great houses."
Cassius smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. "Of course, Thorwald Van Hellsin. I meant no offense. I merely... react poorly to unnatural things. A family trait, you might say." His gaze never left Kami. "My great-grandfather was killed by something very much like your brother. Drained so completely that his body crumbled to ash. Forgive me if I find the resemblance... disturbing."
Before Thorwald could respond, a gong rang out across the courtyard—a deep, resonant note that seemed to vibrate in the bones. The crowd of candidates fell silent as seven figures emerged from the Academy's main hall.
The Seven Masters of Aurelius.
Each wore robes of a different color, denoting their specialty. Master Quintus wore crimson for combat. Mistress Livia wore blue for theory. Master Hadrian wore green for healing. Mistress Octavia wore purple for what the Academy called "unconventional applications"—which meant anything that did not fit neatly into their other categories. Master Severus wore black for enforcement and discipline. Mistress Portia wore white for administration and testing. And at their center, wearing robes that shifted between all colors and none, stood Grand Master Aurelius Maximus, the most powerful Pneuma-wielder in the province, perhaps in the entire Empire.
Maximus was ancient, easily seventy years old, but his Pneuma burned with an intensity that made every candidate in the courtyard feel like guttering candles before a sun. His hair was pure white, his face deeply lined, but his eyes were sharp as broken glass and missed nothing.
"Candidates," his voice rolled across the courtyard, amplified by Pneuma so that it seemed to come from everywhere at once. "You stand before the Imperial Academy of Pneumatic Studies, the greatest institution of learning in the known world. For five hundred years, we have trained the Empire's finest warriors, scholars, and servants. We have transformed raw potential into refined power, chaos into order, barbarians into civilized wielders of the Pneuma."
He paused, letting his gaze sweep across the assembled children. "Most of you will fail today's testing. This is not a judgment of your worth as people, merely a recognition that not all possess the capacity for greatness. Those who fail will be allowed to return to their families with honor. But those who pass..." His smile was cold as winter stone. "Those who pass will belong to the Academy. Your families will have no claim on you. Your old lives will end. You will be forged into weapons for the Empire's use, and you will serve until death or disability releases you."
A murmur ran through the crowd. Several younger candidates looked terrified. Others—like Cassius Tiberion—looked hungry.
"The testing will proceed in four stages," Mistress Portia announced, stepping forward with a scroll. "First, Capacity—we will measure the raw amount of Pneuma you can channel. Second, Control—we will evaluate your precision and discipline. Third, Versatility—we will assess your range of applications. And fourth, Resonance—we will determine your ability to synchronize with others."
"Those who pass all four stages will be offered positions as Academy students," Master Quintus added, his scarred face grim. "Those who show exceptional promise in specific areas may be offered specialized training paths. And those who demonstrate abilities the Empire deems... dangerous... will be handled accordingly."
His eyes found Kami in the crowd, and Kami felt the weight of that gaze like a physical pressure.
The first test began immediately.
Candidates were called forward in groups of ten, arranged in a circle around a crystalline device the size of a man's head. The device—called an Aetheric Resonator—would measure Pneuma capacity by drawing on each candidate's life-force and converting it to visible light. The brighter the crystal shone, the greater the capacity.
Thorwald's group went first. He stepped up to the Resonator with quiet confidence, placed his hand upon its surface, and channeled. The crystal blazed like a captured sun, golden light flooding the courtyard, and approving murmurs ran through the watching Masters. When the light faded, Master Quintus himself nodded with satisfaction.
"Exceptional capacity," Portia announced, making a mark on her scroll. "Preliminary classification: Warrior-track, high potential."
Cassius Tiberion went next, and his display was even more impressive. The crystal not only blazed with light but began to hum, vibrating with the sheer amount of Pneuma he channeled through it. Several candidates gasped. Even the Masters looked impressed.
"Extraordinary," Portia murmured. "Preliminary classification: Command-track, highest potential."
More candidates followed. Some produced respectable glows. Others barely managed a flicker and were gently but firmly escorted from the courtyard, their Academy dreams ended before they had truly begun. The senator's daughter who had insulted Kami earlier produced a strong violet light—powerful but not exceptional.
Then Kami's name was called.
He walked to the Resonator feeling every eye upon him, feeling Cassius's hatred like heat on his skin, feeling his brother's concern and his parents' anxiety from where they watched in the dignitary seats. He placed his hand upon the crystal's surface.
And nothing happened.
The courtyard fell silent. The crystal remained dark and inert. Several candidates snickered. Cassius smiled openly.
"Channel your Pneuma," Mistress Portia said, her voice patient but puzzled. "Draw upon your life-force and direct it into the device."
"I am," Kami replied quietly.
And he was. But what no one understood—what perhaps only Grand Master Maximus began to suspect—was that the Resonator was designed to measure Pneuma flowing outward. Kami's Pneuma did not flow out. It flowed in.
The device was trying to draw on his life-force, but instead, Kami was drawing on the device's accumulated Pneuma, draining the residual energy left by all the previous candidates. The crystal was not measuring him. He was feeding on it.
"Defective," Master Severus announced coldly. "The boy has no measurable Pneuma capacity. Remove him from—"
"Wait." Grand Master Maximus descended from his seat, moving with a speed that belied his age. He approached Kami, his ancient eyes studying the boy with an intensity that made even Thorwald shift uncomfortably. "Remove your hand from the Resonator, child."
Kami obeyed. The moment he did, the crystal suddenly blazed with brilliant light—not the gold of Thorwald's Pneuma or the white-blue of Cassius's, but a deep, hungry violet that seemed to drink in the surrounding illumination rather than emit it.
"Fascinating," Maximus breathed. "The device is releasing the Pneuma you drew from it. You do not project power, boy. You absorb it. You are..."
"A Devourer," Kami finished calmly. "Yes, Grand Master."
The courtyard erupted.
Candidates screamed and scattered. Parents stood in shock. Master Severus drew his blade, Pneuma already flowing into the weapon, making it shine with killing light. But Maximus raised one hand, and such was the force of his will that everyone froze.
"Peace," the Grand Master commanded. "There will be no violence in my Academy." He circled Kami slowly, like a scholar examining a rare specimen. "How long have you known what you are?"
"Since I was five," Kami replied. "When I accidentally killed a merchant who tried to strike me."
"Accidentally." Maximus's tone made it clear he doubted that word. "And since then? How many have you killed?"
"None, Grand Master. My family has taught me control."
"Control." Maximus glanced at Grimwald in the stands, then back at Kami. "Then demonstrate this control. The crystal before you still holds Pneuma—the accumulated life-force of fifty candidates. A Devourer's instinct would be to drain it completely, to feast upon all that concentrated power. Instead, I want you to take exactly half. No more, no less. Can you do this?"
Kami hesitated. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to drain the crystal dry, to fill himself with all that delicious power. The hunger rose in him like a tide, demanding, insisting.
Then he thought of Thorwald. Of his brother's steady faith. Of the promise he had made.
He placed his hand on the crystal again and drew. The violet light dimmed slowly, precisely, as Kami siphoned the accumulated Pneuma. He could feel it flowing into him, filling the eternal emptiness at his core, and it was ecstasy. But he counted, measured, controlled. When he had taken exactly half—when the crystal's glow had diminmed to precisely fifty percent of its previous brightness—he stopped and withdrew his hand.
The hunger screamed at him to continue. His hand trembled with the effort of pulling away. But he did it.
Grand Master Maximus studied the crystal, then nodded slowly. "Precise to within a fraction of a percent. Extraordinary control for one so young." He turned to address the assembled Masters. "This candidate does not fit our standard testing protocols. However, the Empire's charter specifically states that no Pneuma-wielder of exceptional ability shall be turned away from the Academy without cause. This boy has demonstrated both exceptional ability and exceptional discipline."
"He is an abomination!" Cassius Tiberion shouted, his aristocratic composure cracking. "Devourers are monsters! They feed on human life! They—"
"They are what they are," Maximus interrupted, his voice carrying such authority that even a Tiberion fell silent. "The Empire does not fear what a person is born as. We fear only what they choose to become. Kami Van Hellsin will continue testing. If he passes, he will be admitted. And may the gods help anyone who tries to harm him within these walls, for they will answer to me personally."
The Grand Master's Pneuma flared, just for an instant, and the sheer power of it drove every candidate to their knees. Even the other Masters stepped back involuntarily.
Message delivered, Maximus returned to his seat.
The testing continued, but everything had changed. Kami Van Hellsin, the Devourer, had been acknowledged. And in the tiered seats, Cassius Tiberion's father—Senator Marcus Tiberion—leaned close to his son and whispered words that would shape the years to come:
"If the Academy will not destroy the monster, then we must. Quietly. Carefully. But completely. Do you understand, my son?"
Cassius nodded, his young face hardening into something cold and determined.
"I understand, Father. The Devourer will not survive his first year."