Layzal returned to the shared quarters, his steps measured and deliberate as he pushed open the heavy wooden door. The room fell into a hushed silence the moment he entered. The other recruits, who had been speaking in low, anxious tones, turned to look at him. Their eyes held a mixture of curiosity, fear, and something else—something closer to reverence. None of them spoke, and as Layzal moved deeper into the room, they instinctively shifted to give him a wide berth, their earlier camaraderie replaced by a palpable sense of unease.
Without acknowledging their stares, Layzal made his way to his cot. The room gradually settled back into its former quiet, the recruits lying down, each lost in their thoughts. The events of the day, the ordeal of the awakening, weighed heavily on them all. For Layzal, the day had been one of transformation, both in ways he could feel and in those that were yet to fully reveal themselves.
He began to prepare for the night, slipping off his boots and placing them neatly by the foot of his bed. Tomorrow, they would finally be given the information they so desperately needed—details about the academy, the war they were being trained for, and the classes they would need to choose for the next two weeks. It was the first step in understanding the path laid out before them, a path that could lead to survival—or destruction.
Layzal headed to the small, dimly lit bathroom at the far end of the quarters. The flickering light cast long shadows on the stone walls as he splashed cold water on his face, the icy shock pulling him further out of the day's haze. As he reached for a towel, his reflection in the cracked mirror caught his eye.
His brow furrowed as he examined his reflection more closely. His skin seemed paler than before, almost unnaturally so, the faint glow of the torchlight making it appear as if he were carved from marble. His teeth, too, seemed different—longer, sharper, the canines especially so. They looked almost predatory.
Layzal narrowed his eyes, studying the changes. Others might not notice, might think it had always been this way, but not him. He was observant by nature, attuned to the smallest details both in others and in himself. These changes were new, brought on by the awakening, no doubt. He had been told he was gifted, that his awakening had been exceptional. Perhaps this was what that meant—an alteration not just of power, but of his very being.
He shook his head, dismissing the thought for now. There was little he could do about it, and there was no point in dwelling on what he didn't yet understand. The academy was a place of transformation, after all. He would have to learn to live with these changes, to master whatever they brought with them.
Returning to his cot, Layzal settled in for the night. He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, focusing on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was slower now, calmer, matching the deliberate pace he had set for himself since arriving. The day's events had been taxing, but he couldn't afford to let them weigh him down. Every day in this academy would be crucial for his survival, and he would need all the energy he could muster.
He closed his eyes, allowing his mind to be empty of the day's events. The sensation of the new power within him was still present, a constant, thrumming pulse that he was gradually becoming accustomed to. It would be there in the morning, ready for him to harness it, to shape it into a weapon.
For now, he needed rest. The academy would test him in ways he had yet to imagine, and he would meet those tests head-on. But tonight, he would allow himself this moment of calm, this brief respite before the storm of the days ahead.
And with that, Layzal drifted into a deep, undisturbed sleep, his mind already preparing for what the next day would bring.
The following morning, Layzal woke with the first light filtering through the narrow window, a sliver of dawn cutting through the gloom of the shared quarters. He blinked once, quickly adjusting to the pale light. The others were still asleep, their breathing heavy and uneven, a testament to the exhaustion that had claimed them after the previous day's trials.
Layzal sat up, the cool air brushing against his skin, and took a moment to steady his thoughts. The strange new power he had felt the night before was still there, a subtle pulse beneath the surface of his consciousness. It felt more familiar now, as if it had settled into place, becoming a part of him rather than something foreign.
He once again made his way to the dimly lit bathroom, where he studied himself. He narrowed his eyes and spoke calmly. "As expected." Lazyal looked at his skin which was now even more pale, his lips and eyes an even darker red. Sighing he lifted his upper lip with his hand. His now even longer canines were on display, looking incredibly sharp. Looking back into the mirror he somehow had the feeling that the changes have stopped for now at least. Well he has no knowledge of the future, but at least it won't change anytime soon.
As he walked back to his bed, he noticed something he missed. He's taller now. Shaking his head in annoyance at not noticing, he settled back onto his bed before reaching over to his bedside table, he took the uniform underneath, luckily the academy has put a uniform that was the size bigger than them there.
He dressed swiftly, his movements fluid and purposeful, as he listened to the quiet stirrings of the other recruits beginning to wake. The room was filled with a sense of anticipation, a shared understanding that today marked the true beginning of their journey at the academy. Today, they would learn what was expected of them, what they would need to do to survive and excel in this harsh environment.
As Layzal finished buckling his boots, the door to the quarters creaked open, and the knight from the day before stepped inside. His presence immediately commanded attention, and the remaining recruits snapped awake, scrambling to ready themselves under his watchful eye.
"Everyone up," the knight ordered, his voice flat but firm. "Today, you'll receive your instructions and begin your training. There is no room for delay or weakness. Follow me."
Without waiting for a response, the knight turned on his heel and strode out of the room. Layzal fell into step behind him, followed by the other recruits, who cast wary glances at one another as they hurried to keep up. The corridors were colder this morning, the stone walls seeming to close in around them as they wound through the twisting passages of the academy.
The knight looked up at him, "It seems you have had some changes in the night, Don't worry the instructor will explain." He said calmly, Layzal nodded, already expecting the answer.
They arrived at a large hall, its high ceilings supported by thick wooden beams, with banners bearing the academy's crest hanging from the walls. The room was stark, utilitarian, with rows of tables and benches arranged in a neat, orderly fashion. At the far end, a raised platform served as a stage, and behind it, a large board displayed an array of symbols and text, the purpose of which was not immediately clear.
The knight motioned for the recruits to take their seats, and they did so quickly, the atmosphere tense with unspoken questions. Layzal sat near the front, his posture straight and his eyes forward, focused on the stage.
Another figure entered the hall, an older man with a severe expression, his hair streaked with grey and his eyes sharp as flint. He walked with the measured pace of someone accustomed to authority, and the knight stepped aside, yielding the floor to him.
"I am Instructor Verrus," the man began, his voice resonating through the hall. "You are here because the world outside these walls is at war, and we need soldiers—warriors capable of defending humanity. The academy will train you, will push you to your limits and beyond. Some of you will rise to the challenge. Others will not."
His gaze swept over the recruits, lingering for a moment on Layzal before moving on. "The awakening you underwent yesterday was the first step. It unlocked the potential within you, but potential is meaningless without skill, without knowledge. Over the next two weeks, you will choose your classes, which will determine the foundation of your training. Choose wisely."
Instructor Verrus gestured to the board behind him, where the symbols began to shift, forming into recognizable shapes and words. Each one represented a different discipline: combat, strategy, magic, survival, and more. The options were varied, each offering a different path within the academy's rigorous program.
"Each of you can select as many disciplines as you want, but I am going to remind you, some may be better off only picking a few." Verrus continued. "These will be the focus of your training for the next two weeks. After that, your performance will be evaluated, and you will be pushed to war."
He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in. "The decisions you make today will shape your future in the academy and beyond. Consider them carefully."
Seeing that his words were acknowledged, Instructor Verrus continued, his voice steady and commanding. "Before you choose your studies and path of survival, it's important that you understand the ranking system used by the kingdom, as well as what awakening and magic truly entail."
He scanned the room, his gaze lingering on each recruit before settling on Layzal. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Let's begin with awakening. The awakening process is essentially an introduction to mana, a force that fuels magic. In your case, you were introduced to it through a metal alloy capable of conducting mana."
He paused, allowing the recruits a moment to absorb this information. "You may have noticed," Verrus continued, his voice taking on a slightly amused tone, "that not everyone reacts to awakening in the same way." His eyes, along with everyone else's, drifted toward Layzal, who stood quietly, his calm demeanour unshaken by the attention.
Verrus chuckled, the sound low and knowing. "Most people, when they awaken, have no particular affinity for any type of magic. This means they can learn a variety of spells and disciplines, but it will be harder for them, and their power will be limited compared to others. Then, we have individuals like Layzal here—those we call the Gifted. The Gifted are unique because they possess a singular affinity for a specific type of magic. This grants them certain advantages: they can learn and master their magic faster, have a greater reserve of mana, and are significantly stronger than regular mana wielders of the same rank. Layzal, for example, has an affinity with blood magic—a rare and powerful gift, one we've never seen before."
A ripple of surprise and curiosity ran through the room. The recruits exchanged glances, their eyes flicking back to Layzal, some filled with envy, others with awe. But Layzal remained unfazed, his expression calm and unreadable.
One recruit, a boy with short blond hair and an unremarkable appearance, hesitantly raised his hand. "How rare are the Gifted?" he asked, his voice carrying a note of doubt. "And why does it matter so much if someone is Gifted? Surely the sheer number of non-Gifted people outweighs the benefits of a few."
Verrus's gaze snapped to the boy, cold and unyielding. "First of all," he said, his tone icy, "I didn't give you permission to ask a question. This is your one and only warning." The tension in the room thickened, the recruits shrinking back slightly. Then, with a dark chuckle, Verrus answered. "How rare? In the 130 years of war, fewer than 50,000 Gifted have emerged. Now, before you think that's a lot, consider this: tens of billions of normal mana wielders have been sent to war in that time."
Shock and disbelief washed over the recruits as they processed the staggering numbers. Verrus continued, indifferent to their reactions. "Why are the Gifted so important? Because they are the hope of humanity. Without them, we wouldn't stand a chance against the strongest beasts and enemies we face. All of the most powerful and influential figures in our history have been Gifted. Unlike regular mana wielders, the Gifted have no ceiling to their power—they can continue to grow indefinitely, potentially surpassing all others."
As the recruits grappled with this new understanding, Verrus pressed on, his tone matter-of-fact. "To give you a clearer picture, let me explain the ranks within our military structure. I won't go into detail, but you'll understand enough. The titles, from lowest to highest, are as follows: Recruit, Initiate, Soldier, Adept, Veteran, Specialist, Elite, Master, and Paragon."
He paused, his eyes sweeping over the room. "Now, the Gifted also follow the same ranking system, but theirs is distinct. They begin at Initiate, then progress to Adept, Specialist, Master, and finally, Paragon. Regular mana wielders cant achieve those ranks and can only be the ranks; Recruit, Soldier, Veteran, and Elite—only the Gifted can ascend to the highest ranks of Master and Paragon. This is why the Gifted are always stronger, always more valuable. They possess the potential to become humanity's greatest warriors, the only ones capable of reaching the pinnacle of power."
The weight of Verrus's words settled heavily on the recruits, their earlier bravado fading into a more sober determination. For the first time, they truly understood the divide between the Gifted and the non-Gifted, the daunting path that lay ahead of them.
Verrus gave them a moment to let it all sink in, his gaze lingering on each recruit as if assessing their resolve. Then, with a slight nod, he continued. "Now that you understand what is at stake, you will choose your studies—your path of survival. Choose wisely, for these choices will determine not just your future in the academy, but your future on the battlefield."
With that, the symbols on the board behind him began to shift, revealing the various disciplines available: combat, strategy, magic, survival, and more. Each represented a different path, a different set of skills to be honed in the crucible of war.
Layzal, his mind already set, approached the board with deliberate calm. He chose combat, strategy, and magic—disciplines that aligned with his strengths and the power he had awakened. These were the tools he would need to survive and thrive in the academy and beyond. He chose to pick swordsmanship training, basic beast knowledge along with their anatomy, basic survival skills and mana manipulation course.
One by one, the other recruits made their selections, some with confidence, others with trepidation. When the last recruit had chosen, Verrus addressed them once more, his voice firm and final. "Your training begins tomorrow. Be ready. The academy will push you to your limits, and only the strongest will survive."
With that, the session ended, and the recruits were dismissed. As they filed out of the hall, the weight of their choices hung over them, the reality of their situation sinking deeper with each step.
Layzal moved through the corridors with the same unhurried pace as before, his mind focused on what lay ahead. The path before him was fraught with danger and uncertainty, but he had no intention of faltering. He had been marked as one of the Gifted, and he would prove himself worthy of the title.
Tomorrow, the true test will begin.