The formation lit up again.
Another candidate stepped onto the platform, and the hall's attention shifted almost immediately. The brief excitement that had followed Zion's battle had already begun to fade, replaced by the familiar tension that had settled over the assessment. One candidate after another continued to enter the formations, each disappearing into a different battlefield and returning with either the official's announcement of success or the far less welcome declaration of failure.
Zion leaned back in his seat and watched quietly.
His stomach growled.
Loudly.
Kellan turned his head.
Zion slowly looked at him.
For several seconds, neither of them spoke.
Mira covered her mouth, but the smile in her eyes betrayed her.
"Don't," Zion said.
"I didn't say anything," Kellan replied.
"You were about to."
Kellan's grin widened. "I was just going to say that surviving two monsters apparently made you hungry."
Zion sighed.
"Famished."
Mira finally laughed. "You really weren't joking."
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
Kellan looked him up and down. "Honestly? A little."
Zion ignored him and returned his attention to the formation.
Somewhere behind them, a pair of candidates were arguing quietly about whether the fried skewers sold outside the origin tower were better than the ones near the eastern district. Someone else was trying, without much success, to nap sitting up. A younger boy two rows down kept retying the same knot on his wrist wrap, undoing it and starting over, not because it was wrong but because his hands needed something to do. The hall wasn't only tension. It was hundreds of people waiting, and waiting looked different on everyone.
Kellan noticed the skewer argument and leaned toward Zion. "For the record, eastern district. It isn't close."
"I don't have an opinion."
"That's because you haven't tried them."
"I've been slightly busy."
"Excuses."
Mira rolled her eyes but said nothing, content to let the two of them bicker while the hall settled into its next rhythm.
Inside the illusion, the next candidate found himself standing in a massive underground chamber. Unlike many of the previous trials, there was no beast waiting for him, no weapon-wielding opponent, and no immediate threat. The chamber was completely silent, its stone walls stretching into darkness on every side.
The candidate looked around cautiously.
Nothing happened.
Five seconds passed.
Then ten.
A few whispers began spreading through the hall.
"Did the formation malfunction?"
"Where's the opponent?"
"Is this even a combat trial?"
The candidate took another step forward.
The moment his foot touched the ground, a deep rumble echoed through the chamber.
The walls moved.
Stone scraped against stone as massive sections of the chamber began sliding inward from every direction.
The candidate's expression changed.
He ran.
The space behind him disappeared as one wall slammed into the place where he'd been standing. Another section moved ahead of him, forcing him to turn sharply into a narrow passage.
The chamber was shrinking. Not quickly enough to kill him immediately, but quickly enough to make every second matter.
Kellan leaned forward. "That's different."
Mira nodded. "Very."
Zion's eyes remained fixed on the formation.
The candidate accelerated, weaving between the moving walls while desperately searching for an opening. He tried one direction, only to find another section of stone closing it. He changed course again. The walls followed.
Then he struck one.
His weapon crashed against the stone with a deafening sound.
Nothing happened.
He struck again. Still nothing. His breathing became faster. He swung a third time, harder than before. The weapon bounced off the wall, nearly slipping from his hands.
Kellan frowned. "He's wasting time."
"He's panicking," Mira said.
The candidate looked around frantically as another wall began sliding toward him. He backed away. The wall moved faster. He turned and ran. The passage narrowed. His breathing grew ragged.
He struck another wall. Nothing. Again. Nothing.
The hall grew quieter as everyone watched him slowly lose control.
"He's treating the battlefield like an opponent," Zion murmured, almost to himself.
Mira tilted her head. "Instead of what?"
"A puzzle."
The candidate suddenly stopped. His chest rose and fell rapidly. The walls continued moving. He looked at the weapon in his hand. Then at the walls. Then at the floor.
Something changed in his expression.
The panic disappeared. Not completely, but enough.
He lowered his weapon.
The entire hall seemed to hold its breath.
"What is he doing?" Kellan whispered.
The candidate closed his eyes. For several seconds, he did nothing. The walls continued closing.
Then he opened his eyes. Instead of looking at the walls, he looked down. His gaze settled on the ground beneath his feet. He crouched and touched the stone. A faint crack ran beneath his fingers. His eyes widened. He smiled.
Then he stood and kicked the ground.
The stone beneath him shattered. The entire chamber shook. The floor collapsed. The candidate dropped through the opening just as the walls slammed together above him.
The illusion disappeared. The formation returned to its dormant state.
"Candidate One Hundred and Fifty-Nine has completed the first stage."
A wave of murmurs passed through the hall.
Kellan stared at the empty formation. "How did he figure that out?"
Zion leaned back. "He stopped trying to beat the battlefield."
Mira understood immediately. "And started trying to understand it."
Zion nodded.
Kellan scratched his head. "Why does everyone here have to be so smart?"
Mira gave him an amused look. "You're still waiting for your turn."
Kellan's expression stiffened. "Don't remind me."
Zion glanced at him. "You were confident a few minutes ago."
"I was confident before I saw what they're doing to people."
"You were also making jokes while I was fighting two monsters."
"That was different."
"How?"
Kellan hesitated. "I wasn't the one fighting."
Mira laughed again.
The three of them settled back into silence as another candidate entered the formation.
The assessment continued.
Candidate One Hundred and Sixty passed after nearly six minutes inside an illusion filled with creatures that attacked from beneath the ground. Candidate One Hundred and Sixty-One lasted less than a minute before being overwhelmed by a single beast. Candidate One Hundred and Sixty-Two passed after being forced to survive an environment where the ground itself shifted beneath his feet. Candidate One Hundred and Sixty-Three failed when she allowed frustration to overcome her judgment.
Between trials, an official walked the aisles with a tray of water skins, handing them out without much ceremony. A few candidates thanked him. Most just drank. Somewhere near the back, someone was quietly re-braiding a friend's hair, the two of them talking about nothing in particular. It was, in its own way, an ordinary afternoon — the kind of lull that happens in any long day, assessment or not.
The numbers continued climbing. The hall continued shrinking. Not physically, but in another way.
Rows that had once been filled with nervous candidates now contained empty seats. Some had failed and been escorted away. Others sat quietly, watching their remaining competitors with expressions that ranged from determination to fear.
Three hundred and fifty-two candidates had entered the hall. Now, fewer than two hundred remained.
The difference was becoming impossible to ignore.
At the beginning of the assessment, many candidates had watched the battles with excitement. They had whispered about impressive techniques, laughed when someone made a mistake, and confidently discussed who they thought would pass.
Nobody laughed anymore.
The Academy had stripped away that confidence one battle at a time. It was becoming clear that talent alone wasn't enough.
Zion watched another candidate narrowly survive an illusion involving three enormous wolves. The young man had managed to defeat one, cripple another, and then barely escaped the third by using the terrain to his advantage.
The formation faded.
"Candidate One Hundred and Sixty-Three has failed the first stage."
Zion's eyes narrowed.
The candidate had survived for nearly eight minutes. Yet he had still failed.
Kellan noticed. "Why did he fail? He lasted longer than some of the people who passed."
"Because survival isn't the only thing they're measuring," Mira said before Zion could.
Zion glanced at her, surprised.
"He lost control near the end," she added. "Didn't he?"
"He did," Zion confirmed. "He found a method that worked against the first two wolves. When the third changed its approach, he kept using the same method anyway."
Kellan groaned. "So even if you find something that works, you can't rely on it."
"Not here."
Zion looked toward the elderly examiner.
The old man hadn't moved from his position. He was watching the formations, but Zion had begun to notice something about his gaze.
It wasn't always on the person winning. Sometimes it wasn't even on the person fighting.
The examiner seemed especially interested in the moments before the fight became desperate.
The first realization.
The first injury.
The first mistake.
The first moment when confidence became uncertainty.
Zion had noticed it before his own trial, but now he was seeing the pattern more clearly.
The Academy wasn't simply asking, Can you win?
It was asking a much more troublesome question.
What happens when winning stops being easy?
Another formation activated. Another candidate entered. Another battlefield appeared.
Kellan stretched his arms above his head and yawned, unbothered for the moment. "At this rate we'll be here past dinner."
"You're still thinking about food."
"I never stopped."
Mira allowed herself a small, genuine laugh, the kind that had nothing to do with the assessment at all.
Zion leaned back slightly, almost relaxed. Then he noticed something.
The elderly examiner had stopped watching the formation. His gaze had moved toward the candidates who had yet to fight.
Zion followed it.
Kellan. Mira. And several others.
His eyes narrowed.
The examiner wasn't simply waiting for their turns. He was watching them now. Watching how they reacted while sitting outside the formation. Watching their faces. Their posture. Their conversations. Their confidence. Their fear.
It took Zion a moment longer than usual to name what he was seeing.
"He's measuring us before we even enter."
Mira looked at him. "Again?"
"Not our strength."
Kellan frowned. "Then what?"
"Our expectations." Zion's eyes stayed on the examiner. "Whether we're afraid. Whether we're overconfident."
Kellan scratched his cheek. "Can't I just be hungry?"
Zion finally looked at him. "You've been saying that for ten minutes."
"I'm supporting you."
"By being hungry?"
"Exactly."
Mira shook her head. "You two are ridiculous."
The formation across the hall suddenly flashed. All three looked toward it.
A young man had entered the illusion. The battlefield that appeared around him was a massive forest covered in fog. Trees stretched high above him, their branches disappearing into darkness. The candidate raised his weapon cautiously.
Nothing moved.
Then a roar shook the forest.
The candidate immediately charged toward the sound.
Zion's eyebrows lifted. "He shouldn't have done that."
Kellan looked at him. "Why?"
"He reacted to the threat before understanding it."
A moment later, the fog shifted. The candidate froze. Something enormous moved between the trees. He raised his weapon. A massive creature emerged. The battle began.
But Zion barely watched. His attention had returned to the examiner.
The old man was still watching the candidates. And then, for just a moment, his eyes settled on Mira.
Zion noticed.
Mira didn't.
Kellan did. He leaned toward Zion. "Why is he looking at her?"
Zion shook his head. "I don't know."
Mira glanced between them. "What?"
"Nothing," Zion said.
She narrowed her eyes. "You two are whispering."
"He's hungry," Zion said.
Kellan stared at him. "Why did you bring me into this?"
Mira laughed. The tension eased for a moment.
Then the silver-robed official spoke again.
"Candidate One Hundred and Sixty-Four."
Kellan's smile disappeared.
The hall seemed to become quieter. His eyes slowly moved toward the official. Then toward Zion. Then Mira. Nobody spoke.
The official repeated the call. "Candidate One Hundred and Sixty-Four."
Kellan stood. He rolled his shoulders once. Then twice. The joking expression returned to his face, but this time it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Well," he muttered.
Zion looked at him.
Kellan exhaled. "I guess we'll find out what they think of me."
Zion didn't answer immediately. He studied his friend for a moment.
Kellan was nervous. That much was obvious. But beneath the nervousness was something else.
Excitement.
Zion had seen it before. Kellan was afraid of losing. But he wasn't afraid of fighting.
That was different.
"Don't overthink it," Zion said.
Kellan looked back at him. "That's your advice?"
"Yes."
"After watching you spend an entire fight analyzing two monsters?"
"You aren't me."
Kellan smiled. "Fair enough."
Mira reached out and lightly tapped Kellan's shoulder as he passed. "Just come back."
Kellan looked at her. "Obviously."
Then he turned toward the platform.
The walk seemed longer than usual. Perhaps because everyone was watching.
Candidates turned in their seats as Kellan passed. Some had already seen Zion's battle. They knew Kellan was one of the people sitting beside him. A few whispered.
"That's the guy who was with Candidate One Hundred and Fifty-Eight."
"Are they friends?"
"He's next?"
"Wonder what he can do."
Kellan heard some of it. He pretended not to.
When he reached the platform, he stopped in front of the formation. For the first time since the assessment began, the hall was watching him.
Kellan looked over his shoulder. His eyes met Zion's. Zion gave him a small nod. Kellan returned it.
Then he stepped into the formation.
Azure light swallowed him. The hall went silent.
The world inside the formation changed.
Kellan opened his eyes. He was standing in the middle of a vast battlefield. At first glance, it looked ordinary — a flat stretch of dry earth, a gray sky pressing low overhead, wind carrying loose dust in long sheets across the ground. No buildings. No forest. No mountains. No obvious enemy.
Just space. Too much of it.
Kellan slowly turned in a circle, waiting for the illusion to reveal its trick the way the others had. A wall. A shape in the fog. Something.
Nothing came.
"Seriously?"
The wind didn't answer. It kept moving, dragging thin veins of dust across the cracked earth, and for a moment the silence felt less like emptiness and more like patience — like something out there was in no hurry at all.
He waited. One second. Two. Five.
Then a voice echoed through the empty battlefield, flat and toneless, as if it belonged to the field itself rather than anyone standing in it.
"Begin."
Kellan's grip tightened around his weapon. Still nothing moved. He frowned, turning slowly, scanning the horizon for any break in the gray.
"Where are you?"
The wind kept blowing. Dust rolled across the ground in long, unhurried waves.
Kellan took a step.
A sound came from behind him. He spun. Nothing.
Another sound — this time from his left. He turned. Nothing.
His pulse ticked up, though he kept his stance loose, refusing to let it show. Whatever this was, it wanted him rattled first and cornered second. He'd seen enough of the other trials to know better than to give it the first part for free.
Then the ground beneath his feet cracked.
Kellan didn't think. He jumped backward on instinct, and something shot out of the earth exactly where he'd been standing a heartbeat earlier, close enough that he felt the displaced air against his boots.
He landed hard, several meters away, weapon already rising.
A pair of glowing eyes appeared beneath the settling dust, low to the ground and unblinking.
Kellan's grin returned, sharper this time. "There you are."
The creature emerged fully from the broken earth. It was large — not enormous like the monster Zion had faced, but powerful enough that Kellan understood immediately this wasn't going to be a short fight. Four thick legs. A body armored in dark, stone-like scales that shifted color faintly with the dust still clinging to them. Long, curved claws that had torn through solid ground like it was nothing. A mouth lined with rows of narrow, backward-slanting teeth built for holding, not just biting.
The creature lowered its body, muscles coiling beneath the scales.
Kellan raised his weapon.
For the first time since entering the formation, his smile became genuine — the nervous edge gone, replaced by something steadier.
"Come on."
The creature charged.
Kellan charged too.
Outside the formation, Zion leaned forward. Mira's eyes narrowed.
The first clash came like thunder.
And Kellan's trial had begun.
°°°°°
Author' note
Kellan's trial is finally here, and honestly? I've been waiting to write this fight for a while now. 😤
If you're enjoying the story so far, drop a power stone (or a few) before you go — it genuinely helps the book climb the rankings and reach more readers. Every single stone counts, no matter how small!
Also — collections and reviews go a long way too if you've got a spare minute. Thank you all for reading, see you in the next chapter! 🙏