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The morning sun rose over Deviants Academy, casting a soft, golden hue across the stone spires that towered above the courtyard.
The students were gathered, their ceremonial uniforms neatly pressed, their faces a mix of excitement and anxiety.
It was always like this at the beginning of the trials—an air of anticipation that thickened with each passing moment.
I stood at the top of the grand staircase, watching as the initiates filed in.
Their nerves were palpable, but I had seen this before. Most of them would fail, and only a few would rise to meet the challenges ahead.
I could already feel the mana swirling in the air around them, the subtle ebb and flow of power.
This was my domain—this was where I saw the true potential of each student, long before the trials revealed it.
My gaze swept over the crowd, noting each student's presence.
There were the usual promising students, the ones with connections, the children of noble families.
And then there were the outliers—the unknowns, like Silas Kingslay, whose presence was already beginning to stir the crowd.
His name didn't mean anything to me at first. I knew nothing of his family, nothing of his background.
But as he walked forward, a strange energy pulsed in the air. His mana... it was unique. Wild. Unrestrained. And I could feel it—a power unlike any other, yet still so raw, so untamed.
I cleared my throat, addressing the crowd.
"Welcome, initiates," my voice rang out, calm and commanding, cutting through the whispers. "Today, you stand at the threshold of greatness. Deviants Academy is not a sanctuary for the weak. It is a crucible—a forge that will test your strength, your resolve, and your worth. Those who falter will be cast aside. Those who rise will shape the future of this world."
Their eyes were on me now, but I could feel the underlying tension in the air. This was the moment of truth, where the academy would separate the wheat from the chaff.
I gestured to the towering obelisk at the center of the courtyard. "Your first trial begins now. Step forward when your name is called. The Obelisk will judge you."
One by one, the students came forward, placing their hands on the Obelisk. The air thickened with power as each initiate's mana affinity was tested.
Most of them were predictable, their trials testing their combat abilities or endurance. But then,
Silas Kingslay stepped forward.
The moment his hand touched the Obelisk, I felt it. A burst of energy that flared outward with a force that shook the very ground beneath our feet.
The Obelisk responded instantly, erupting in a brilliant flash of golden light. I watched as the light shifted, forming into a storm above Silas, lightning crackling through the air in a display of raw power.
The students around me gasped, some in awe, others in fear. But Silas was calm, composed even as the storm raged around him.
He moved with a grace that was almost unnatural, dodging lightning strikes and retaliating with arcs of energy that split the air.
It was a flawless display of control, of mastery over an element that could easily destroy anyone else who dared to wield it.
I watched intently, my eyes narrowing as I took in every detail of his performance.
There was no doubt in my mind—Silas Kingslay was a force to be reckoned with. But I also knew this was just the beginning.
There was much more to him than what he showed here today.
As the Obelisk dimmed and the storm subsided, I nodded in approval. "Well done, Silas Kingslay," I said, my voice steady. "Step back."
He returned to the crowd, his expression composed, but I could sense the pride in him, the satisfaction of a job well done. The crowd parted slightly as he walked past them, his presence still commanding attention.
I took a deep breath, and before I could process everything fully, another name was called.
"Lyrium Blackwood."
The murmurs rippled through the crowd. I saw a few of them glance at each other, whispering about his family, his sister, but their curiosity was palpable.
Lyrium was from one of the oldest and most prestigious families in Eldodria, the Blackwoods. But unlike his sister, who had already made her mark, Lyrium had remained in the shadows, unnoticed by most.
This would be his moment to prove himself.
He stepped forward, his movements sharp, confident. But there was something else—a quiet intensity radiated from him that caught my attention.
His demeanor was more subdued than Silas's, yet I could sense his resolve. As he placed his hand against the Obelisk, I braced myself.
The reaction was immediate, but not what I expected.
A surge of blue energy erupted from the Obelisk, crackling and sparking as Lyrium's mana collided with the Obelisk's probing force.
I could feel it then—his lightning affinity, unmistakable and wild. But it wasn't the controlled brilliance I'd seen from Silas.
No, it was chaotic.
The lightning around him wasn't just a manifestation—it was a storm of its own making.
It was unpredictable, raw, and for a moment, I wondered if the Obelisk itself could handle it.
The trial formed before my eyes, a vortex of lightning that swirled around Lyrium.
It wasn't as refined as Silas's, but the intensity was palpable. I could see his struggle as he fought against the storm.
His movements were sharp, calculating, but there was something desperate in them, a hint of frustration as he dodged the violent arcs of energy that lashed out at him.
It wasn't a display of control, not like Silas's. But there was something else—something primal, something raw in his response.
He was fighting against the storm, not to control it, but to survive it.
I leaned forward, my eyes focused on him. Lyrium wasn't just facing a test.
He was battling the storm within himself, struggling to harness the power that he had no control over. It was a fight that mirrored his inner conflict—his raw potential versus his lack of refinement.
The storm closed in, the energy growing denser, and for a moment, it seemed as though Lyrium might be overwhelmed.
But then, with a roar, he summoned the last of his strength and unleashed a final burst of lightning.
The vortex shattered, the energy dissipating into the air.
Silence fell over the courtyard. It was a tense, heavy silence, the kind that always follows a dramatic event.
I studied Lyrium carefully, sensing his exhaustion, the tension in his body as he stood there, breathing heavily.
The Obelisk dimmed, its light fading.
The crowd's whispers began, but I held up a hand. I could feel their judgment, their confusion.
They didn't understand what had just happened. What they had witnessed was far from ordinary.
It wasn't a perfect performance like Silas's, but it was something far more important.
Lyrium Blackwood had survived.
He was a force to be reckoned with, just as much as Silas. Perhaps even more so, in time.
"Step back, Lyrium Blackwood," I said, my voice steady but carrying an underlying note of approval.
Lyrium turned and walked back into the crowd, his posture stiff but unyielding.
The weight of the students' gaze was heavy on him, but I could tell it didn't matter.
He had proven himself.
For now, that was enough.
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