The Pendragon estate gleamed in the morning light, the towering mansion radiating an air of wealth and prestige. Logan Pendragon, dressed impeccably in his academy uniform, stood on the grand front steps. His sharp eyes scanned the scene before him, a determined frown creasing his brow. The academy exam was today, and failure wasn't an option.
He was about to enter the sleek black car waiting for him when his father, Henry Pendragon, approached, his voice cutting through the quiet. "The car won't be allowed to take you to the academy grounds, Logan. You'll have to take the train like the others."
Logan gave a curt nod. He hadn't expected this but was unfazed. "Understood."
Henry turned to the driver, Jonathan, giving him a simple command. "Take him to the train station. Ensure he arrives on time."
The train station stood as a marvel of the technological prowess in Elaris. In this world, the continents boasted advancements beyond ordinary comprehension. Trains capable of moving faster than the speed of sound transported people across regions in mere moments, and today, one such train awaited Logan Pendragon.
As Logan entered the train for the first time, he was greeted by a collection of noble and industrial class students, all murmuring in quiet excitement or nervousness. He could see some familiar faces, heirs to influential families, all of them determined to claim a place among the top contenders.
The train surged forward, the landscape blurring outside as they approached the academy. Just as the students were settling in, a voice crackled over the speakers, breaking the tension that had filled the air.
"Welcome, students, to the first phase of the academy exam," the voice of the vice-captain of the Alpha Region, Hinata Choso, announced. "As you are aware, this is no ordinary journey. The trial begins now."
Logan leaned forward, his jaw tightening. He knew this voice wasn't Captain Keal's; Hinata Choso was overseeing their trial.
The doors of the moving train suddenly slid open, a gust of wind rushing into the compartment. Logan, along with the other students, stood and prepared to leap into the unknown.
"This is your first test," Hinata continued. "This train is traveling at over 600 miles per hour, and you must jump from it. You will land in a forest that will lead to the academy grounds. The first 100 students to reach the academy will pass this phase. Your maps will guide you, but the rest is up to you. Good luck."
Logan checked the band on his wrist; his number flashed: 30.
Suddenly, the train veered close to another line, parallel to the one carrying Asher and his friends. Both trains were moving at incredible speeds, yet they matched perfectly as if they were synchronized. Then, without warning, the two trains split into different directions, but at a convergence point, they released their passengers. The door flung open, and Logan stood at the edge.
Without hesitation, Logan took a deep breath and jumped from the 40-foot-high train track, his body slicing through the air as he descended. His feet hit the ground hard, but he rolled to absorb the impact, immediately checking his wrist for the map's location.
He knew there would be no mercy for anyone lagging behind. Logan's heart pounded, but he wasn't worried. He had prepared for this his entire life. His noble upbringing, his Pendragon lineage, and his father's training had shaped him into a contender. No one—especially not Asher—would stand in his way.
As the other students began to scramble through the dense forest, Logan calmly surveyed his surroundings. He could hear the panic from the less experienced students, but he remained collected. He checked his map again and headed in the direction that would give him the best advantage, calculating every step as he began the trial that would lead him to the academy—and to his destiny.
The roar of the wind was deafening as the students leaped from the two trains in waves, hurtling toward the ground. Out of the combined total of over 750 students, only 250 made the jump, the rest staying behind, confused, or not daring to take the leap. The ones who didn't jump were sent back to their respective regions—disqualified from the first phase of the academy exam before it even truly began.
For those who jumped, chaos reigned. Many crashed into the earth with too much force, their bodies unprepared for the impact. Some landed awkwardly, bones snapping upon contact with the ground. Others fell unconscious from the sheer shock of the descent. Medical drones from the academy swooped down, teleporting the injured and unconscious students to the academy's medical center for treatment. Despite being taken away, they were still part of the exam, but they had failed the first trial.
Of the original 250 jumpers, only 227 students remained on their feet and ready to race, while the others were left behind in the wake of disaster.
Asher sprinted ahead, his focus sharp, feeling the wind whip across his face as he and Mika bolted through the dense forest. His legs moved like pistons, driving him forward with explosive speed. Mika was right behind him, her golden eyes glowing with determination, her movements graceful as she matched Asher's pace.
Running at 60 miles per hour, Asher could feel the strain, but the adrenaline pumped through him. He gritted his teeth, pushing himself to run faster, faster still. Bran, who wasn't far behind, was barreling through the trees like a force of nature, every muscle straining to keep pace. His taller frame gave him an advantage, but it was clear he was feeling the pressure of keeping up with Asher and Mika.
Suddenly, a blur shot past them. It was Logan Pendragon, his face expressionless as he ran at an astonishing 65 miles per hour, his noble heritage and rigorous training giving him an edge over the others. Asher glanced to the side, catching a glimpse of Logan as he sped past, his focus unbreakable.
Logan's speed was unreal—he ran with the precision of someone who had trained for years for this very moment. His every movement was calculated, smooth, efficient. He didn't even glance back at Asher or the other competitors; he simply pressed forward, determined to be the first to reach the academy.
Asher clenched his fists, determination flaring inside him. He wasn't going to let Logan beat him that easily.
"C'mon, Mika! Bran! Let's push harder!" Asher called out, increasing his speed as much as his body could manage. Mika grinned, her eyes flashing with excitement, while Bran grunted in response, picking up the pace.
The forest stretched out before them, the terrain rough and unforgiving. Twisted roots and jagged rocks jutted from the ground, threatening to trip them up at every turn. But the students didn't stop, their minds focused on one goal: reaching the academy.
The academy was a full 973 miles from their landing point, and they had just over two and a half days to get there. It wasn't just about speed; they'd need endurance, strategy, and luck to make it in time.
As the race raged on, students in every direction were doing whatever they could to gain an advantage. Some formed temporary alliances, others tried to sabotage their competitors, and a few chose to go it alone, relying on their own strength and cunning to survive.
Logan didn't care about anyone else. His focus was singular. He had a point to prove. He had to show the academy, the world, and especially Asher, what it meant to be a Pendragon.
Meanwhile, Asher, Mika, and Bran kept up their pace, their breathing steady but their muscles already beginning to burn. They knew the real test had just begun. Every second counted, and the margin for error was razor-thin. As they raced through the forest, the looming pressure of the exam and the immense distance ahead hung over them like a shadow.
But Asher wasn't going to back down. This was his dream—his moment to prove himself. And nothing, not even Logan Pendragon, was going to stand in his way.
The race to the academy had only just begun.