The training grounds were alive with nervous energy as the selection ceremony neared its climax. The trials had ended, and the candidates who survived stood in the grand hall, anticipation buzzing through the crowd. Six banners of the Lances draped from the high walls, each one representing a squadron led by one of the legendary Lances.
MC stood among the other recruits, his heart pounding in his chest. He had barely made it through the trials—his Mantra surged uncontrollably at the most crucial moment, almost costing him everything. If it hadn't been for Julius, leader of Devil's Luck, pulling some strings and calming things down, MC doubted he'd be here now.
Beside him was his friend and biggest rival, Asaya Vance, standing as relaxed as ever, his slim but well-built frame exuding confidence.
"Nervous?" MC asked, trying to mask his own nerves.
Asaya shot him a smirk. "Not really. I already know where I belong."
MC raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? You think you're that good?"
Asaya chuckled. "I don't think. I know."
Though they were rivals, they had grown close during the trials. Asaya was quick-witted, arrogant at times, but his raw power and potential were undeniable. He could generate plasma with ease, turning it into weapons or devastating attacks. It was the kind of ability that would turn heads, and it had.
The hall quieted as the grand doors swung open, revealing the six Lances. Each Lance entered with their squadrons, taking their places at the front of the room. The Lances were legends—figures of immense power and respect, and now, they would decide the futures of the young recruits.
The ceremony began. One by one, recruits were called to the raised platform where the Lances would judge them. If a Lance wanted them in their squadron, they would place their token on the platform. If multiple tokens were placed, the recruit could choose.
MC watched as other candidates were selected, his nerves steadily growing. Then, Asaya Vance was called.
Asaya walked confidently to the platform, standing tall under the scrutiny of the Lances.
The first to place their token was Azoth Faren, the leader of Iron Fist, a squadron that focused on overwhelming strength and brute force. Azoth's motto was clear: "Strategy is pointless if you're strong enough."
Julius of Devil's Luck was next, tossing his token onto the platform with a wink.
Finally, Xavier Gray, the dark-skinned, dreadlocked leader of Swords of Symphony, stepped forward. "Your power could serve a higher purpose," he said in his deep voice, placing his token down.
Asaya surveyed the tokens, his sharp eyes scanning each Lance. Then, without hesitation, he reached for Xavier's token, joining Swords of Symphony.
MC's heart pounded harder. Now it was his turn.
Stepping onto the platform, he felt the weight of every Lance's gaze on him. He tried to keep his breathing steady, reminding himself that he had survived the trials.
After a long moment of silence, Xavier Gray stepped forward. "You've got potential. You just need to control it," he said, placing his token down.
Azoth considered MC for a moment but didn't place his token. Julius seemed amused but shook his head.
MC's hands clenched into fists. One token. Only Xavier had chosen him.
Relief flooded his chest, but so did a wave of doubt. Did he deserve this?
Still, there was no turning back now. MC picked up Xavier's token, joining Swords of Symphony.
"We'll teach you control," Xavier said with a nod. "And you'll learn to save everyone."
---
As the new recruits gathered in their respective squadrons, the atmosphere was light and celebratory. Laughter echoed through the hall as the other recruits congratulated each other on their selections.
MC and Asaya stood together, their banter as natural as ever.
"Looks like we'll be on the same squad," MC said, punching Asaya lightly on the arm.
"Try to keep up," Asaya shot back with a grin. "Just don't blow everything up before we get started."
Before MC could retort, a sharp sound pierced the air, followed by a terrified scream. The hall's celebratory mood vanished instantly as every head turned toward the disturbance.
In the corner of the room, one of the recruits lay sprawled on the ground, blood pooling around his body. Standing over him was a figure, dressed in dark robes, a stark white mask covering their face. The mask bore the symbol of a hollow clef, a haunting echo of silence.
Xavier's eyes widened, his entire posture stiffening at the sight of the masked intruder. "No…" he whispered, but it was so quiet, no one else heard.
The rest of the room, however, erupted into chaos. Lances and their squadrons moved swiftly to contain the situation, surrounding the masked figure. The recruit's body lay lifeless on the ground, his eyes wide in terror.
MC's heart raced. Who were they? What was happening?
Before MC could process it further, Xavier's voice cut through the tension. "Everyone stay back!" His usual calm demeanor had shifted to something far more serious, almost fearful.
The masked figure didn't speak, didn't make a sound. Even as the Lances closed in, they remained still, eerily calm.
Azoth was the first to act. With a burst of speed, he lunged toward the figure, his massive fists glowing with Mantra energy. But before he could land a blow, the masked figure moved with unnatural agility, dodging the attack effortlessly.
A brief but intense fight followed, with the Lances coordinating their attacks to subdue the intruder. Finally, Kyro McKenzie managed to disarm the figure with a well-placed shot from his dual flintlocks, while Xavier Gray used his Reality Weaving powers to trap the figure in a spatial lock.
With the figure restrained, the Lances moved in for questioning.
"Who sent you?" Azoth demanded, his voice a low growl.
The masked figure remained silent. Then, without warning, they bit down on something—a small pill concealed in their mouth. Within seconds, their body convulsed, foam frothing at their lips.
"No!" Xavier shouted, rushing forward. But it was too late.
The figure collapsed to the ground, dead.
A tense silence fell over the room. The other recruits stood frozen, unable to process what had just happened.
Kyro, who had been watching the scene with narrowed eyes, turned to Xavier. "Do you know who they are?"
Xavier looked down at the body of the masked figure, his face a mask of conflicting emotions. "I... can't say," he said, his voice unusually hesitant. "But this won't be the last time we see them."
The other Lances exchanged uneasy glances. The recruits whispered amongst themselves, but no one seemed to know what Xavier meant—except Xavier.
He stood over the body, his jaw tight. "We need to be ready," he said quietly, though it seemed more like he was speaking to himself than to anyone else.