Jorel's heart pounded in his chest, each beat reverberating in his skull like a drum. His vision was still blurry, but he forced himself to focus, to steady his breathing and prepare for whatever was coming next. The pain from the initial trial still throbbed through his body, a constant reminder of how close he had come to breaking.
The examiners continued to circle him, their expressions unreadable. He could feel their eyes on him, cold and assessing, as if they were calculating how much more he could take before he shattered completely. It was unnerving, but Jorel had learned long ago not to show weakness. Not in front of others. Not when everything was at stake.
"Prepare him for the second trial," one of the examiners ordered, his voice sharp and authoritative.
Two figures stepped forward, moving with practiced efficiency as they adjusted the restraints on Jorel's arms and legs. He barely registered their presence, his mind already bracing for the next wave of agony. He had to be ready—there was no room for doubt or hesitation.
The second trial, he knew, would be different from the first. The initial test had been purely physical, a brutal assault on his body to gauge his pain tolerance. But the second trial was about control. It was about channeling the pain, directing it with precision and purpose. And for that, he needed to keep his mind clear, his focus unwavering.
A faint clinking sound caught his attention, and he turned his head slightly to see one of the examiners holding a thin, metallic rod. At first glance, it seemed harmless—almost delicate—but Jorel knew better. The rod was a funnel, a tool designed to concentrate and direct pain into a tangible form of magic. But using it required immense skill, especially under the conditions he was about to face.
The examiner handed the funnel to Jorel, who took it with trembling hands. It was cool to the touch, its surface smooth and unblemished. The moment it was in his grasp, he felt a faint hum of energy emanating from it, as if it were alive, waiting to be awakened.
"This is your focus," the examiner explained, his voice low and controlled. "Channel your pain into it. If you succeed, you will move on to the next phase. If you fail... well, you won't need to worry about the future."
Jorel swallowed hard, nodding slightly. The implication was clear: failure wasn't just an option; it was a death sentence. But that was the nature of E&R University. Only the strong survived. Only those who could endure the unimaginable and emerge on the other side were deemed worthy.
As the restraints on his arms and legs were released, Jorel felt a surge of relief, but it was short-lived. The pain was still there, lurking beneath the surface, waiting to be called upon. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as he concentrated on the feeling. He needed to find that same focus he had felt earlier, that singular point where the pain could be harnessed, controlled, and directed.
The room fell into a tense silence, broken only by the sound of his breathing. The examiners watched him closely, their expressions a mix of curiosity and skepticism. They had seen many students attempt this trial, and more often than not, they had witnessed failure. But Jorel refused to be another statistic.
He gripped the funnel tighter, feeling its smooth surface beneath his fingers. The pain in his body was like a wild beast, thrashing and biting, desperate to consume him. But he wouldn't let it. He couldn't. He forced his mind to focus, to draw in the pain and channel it into the funnel.
At first, it was like trying to force a river through a straw. The pain resisted, pushing back against him, threatening to overwhelm him. But Jorel gritted his teeth, determined not to let it win. He visualized the pain as a dark, swirling mass, and with every ounce of willpower, he funneled it into the metallic rod in his hand.
The funnel began to vibrate, a faint glow emanating from its surface. The energy coursed through Jorel, a powerful, almost euphoric sensation that made his heart race. For a moment, he thought he might lose control, that the pain would spiral out of his grasp and consume him entirely. But then, with a final surge of effort, he forced the energy into the funnel, concentrating it into a single, focused point.
There was a sudden flash of light, blinding and intense, as the energy erupted from the funnel. It shot out in a brilliant arc, slamming into the far wall with a resounding crash. The impact sent a shockwave through the room, causing the examiners to take a step back in surprise.
Jorel staggered, nearly collapsing from the exertion. His body felt like it had been wrung dry, every ounce of strength drained from him. But he remained standing, barely, his breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. He had done it. He had channeled the pain, directed it with precision, and unleashed it in a controlled burst.
The room was silent for a moment, the air thick with tension. Then, slowly, one of the examiners stepped forward, his expression unreadable. He looked at the damage on the wall, then back at Jorel, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Impressive," he murmured, his tone grudgingly respectful. "But this is only the beginning."
Jorel didn't have the strength to respond. He could only nod weakly, his mind still reeling from the effort it had taken to control the pain. He knew that the examiner was right—this was just the first step. The road ahead would be long and treacherous, filled with trials that would push him to his limits and beyond. But for now, he had survived. He had proven that he was capable, that he could endure and control the pain.
"Take him to the assessment chamber," another examiner ordered, his voice cutting through the silence. "We need to determine his classification."
Jorel was barely aware of the two figures that approached him, their hands firm but not unkind as they guided him out of the exam hall. His mind was a blur, exhaustion pulling at the edges of his consciousness. But he forced himself to stay alert, to take in his surroundings as they led him down a series of dimly lit corridors.
The assessment chamber was a small, circular room with high ceilings and stone walls. It was stark and unadorned, save for a single chair in the center and a large, glass screen on one side. The two figures helped Jorel into the chair, securing his arms and legs with padded restraints. He was too tired to resist, his body aching with every movement.
The glass screen flickered to life, displaying a series of complex symbols and equations that Jorel couldn't begin to decipher. One of the examiners stood behind the screen, their fingers flying across a keyboard as they entered data. The other examiner remained by Jorel's side, watching him closely.
"This won't take long," the examiner by the screen said, their voice dispassionate. "We're going to measure your pain levels, both physical and psychological, and determine your classification."
Jorel nodded slightly, his eyes half-closed. He could feel the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him, but he knew he had to stay conscious, at least until the assessment was complete.
A low hum filled the room as the machine behind the screen began its work. Jorel felt a faint tingling sensation in his limbs, followed by a deep, resonant pulse that seemed to reverberate through his entire body. It wasn't painful, exactly, but it was uncomfortable, like a low-frequency vibration that he couldn't escape.
The examiner by the screen watched the data intently, their expression unreadable. After what felt like an eternity, the machine finally powered down, the hum fading into silence. The examiner looked up, meeting Jorel's gaze with a mixture of curiosity and calculation.
"Physical pain tolerance is high, as expected," they said, their tone clinical. "Psychological resilience is... interesting. There's a significant level of emotional numbness, likely due to past trauma. This could limit his ability to channel certain types of emotional pain, but it also makes him more resistant to psychological manipulation."
Jorel didn't respond, his mind too foggy to fully grasp what the examiner was saying. He knew that his emotional numbness was both a blessing and a curse—it protected him from certain types of pain, but it also made it difficult for him to connect with others, to truly feel the emotions that drove so many of his peers- the more powerful form of pain.
"Based on these results," the examiner continued, "we're classifying you as a Physical Pain user, with a secondary focus on Channeling. Your emotional numbness is a unique trait, and it will be interesting to see how it develops during your time here."
The restraints on Jorel's arms and legs were released, and he slumped forward slightly, his body too exhausted to hold itself upright. But despite the exhaustion, there was a flicker of satisfaction deep within him. He had passed the exam. He was in.
The two figures helped him to his feet, guiding him out of the assessment chamber and back into the labyrinthine corridors of the school. They walked in silence, the only sound the soft echo of their footsteps against the stone floor. Jorel's mind was a blur, exhaustion finally beginning to take its toll.
When they reached the entrance to the dormitories, the figures stopped, turning to face him.
"You'll be assigned to Raven House," one of them said, their tone neutral. "It's unusual for a Physical Pain user, but the Headmaster has taken an interest in your case. Rest now. Your training begins tomorrow."
Jorel nodded weakly, barely registering their words. All he could think about was finding a bed, collapsing into it, and letting the darkness take him. As he staggered into the dormitory, the last of his strength finally gave out, and he fell onto the nearest bed, unconscious before his head even hit the pillow.
But even as he slept, his mind was haunted by flickers of memory—of fire and loss, of pain and determination. The road ahead was uncertain, filled with dangers and challenges he could scarcely imagine. But Jorel knew one thing for certain: he would survive. He had to. Because in a world where pain was power, only the strong could thrive.
And he would be strong.