The Grand Arena was no longer filled with the roar of combat, but with the suffocating silence of anticipation. The thousands of candidates had been whittled down to a few hundred.
Leo stood in the back, his arms still itching beneath the mana-suppressing bandages. Every time he caught a noble's eye, they quickly looked away, whispering words like "Cursed" or "The Ash-Bringer." Even the commoners stayed several feet away, fearing that he might ignite again.
Only Elara stood near him. She didn't speak, but her presence was a quiet shield against the stares.
The Choosing
One by one, the Captains stepped forward to call out the numbers of the candidates they wanted.
"Number 112, Kael of House Ignis. Crimson Lions!"
Kael marched forward, his chest puffed out, though his eyes darted nervously toward Leo as he passed.
"Number 45, Elara of House Valeska. Silver Eagles!"
Elara looked at Leo, a flicker of hesitation in her eyes, before she stepped forward to join the elite squad.
The numbers dwindled. Soon, only Leo and a handful of others remained. One by one, the Captains looked at Leo—and then looked away. To them, he wasn't a recruit; he was a liability. A ticking time bomb.
"Does no one want Number 502?" the announcer asked, his voice echoing awkwardly.
The Crimson Shadow
Just as the silence became unbearable, a woman with wild, messy hair and a tattered black cape stepped forward. She was the Captain of the Black Thorns, a squad known for taking in the broken, the strange, and the "useless."
"I'll take the brat," she said, blowing a puff of smoke from a wooden pipe. "My garden could use some weeding, and he looks like he knows his way around a vine."
The crowd erupted in murmurs. The Black Thorns were the lowest-ranked squad in the kingdom. For the grandson of a legend to join them was seen as a disgrace.
"Wait," a voice boomed.
The Magic King, Alaric, stood up. "Leo will join the Black Thorns, but he will be under a Special Mandate. He is to be monitored directly by the Magic Knight Council."
The Protest
"This is an insult!" a high-ranking noble shouted from the stands. "He destroyed Royal property! He is a danger to the city! He should be in chains, not a uniform!"
The Magic King's aura flared, a golden pressure that forced the shouting noble back into his seat. "The boy saved lives. If the price of that safety is a few stone golems, I will pay it. The decision is final."
The Mark of the Knight
The Captain of the Black Thorns, Captain Mara, walked down to Leo. She didn't look at him with fear. She looked at him with a predatory sort of curiosity.
She handed him a black mantle decorated with a silver thorned vine. "Put it on, kid. It's heavy, and it smells like old boots, but it's yours."
As Leo fastened the cloak, the small, tattered grimoire at his hip pulsed. For a split second, the green leather turned a deep, bruised purple.
"Don't think this is a vacation," Mara whispered so only he could hear. "The King thinks you're a hero. The Council thinks you're a monster. I just want to see if you can survive my first training session without burning my headquarters down."
The First Departure
As the candidates began to leave with their new squads, Elara caught Leo's eye from across the arena. She tapped the Silver Eagle crest on her shoulder and then pointed to his Black Thorn mantle. She mouthed two words: "Stay alive."
Leo watched her leave, feeling a strange mix of loneliness and resolve. He wasn't a hero yet, and he certainly wasn't a king. He was a Black Thorn.
As he followed Captain Mara out of the arena, he noticed a small, charred dead bird on the ground where the Magic King had been standing. The Hellfire hadn't just affected Leo; it was leaking into the very atmosphere of the capital.
The war hadn't started, but the air was already beginning to burn.