The first family to enter the dome was the Crymson family, the scarlet stars of the battlefield. Elitists under the influential shadow of the Zetas, the Crymsons were distinguished by their striking burgundy-red hair.
At their head stood Pery Crymson, an imposing figure standing 1.82 meters tall, with a gaze as relentless as the most fearsome warriors, yet hiding an unsuspected gentleness. His face, marked by a scar on his right eyebrow, spoke of past battles and challenges overcome. Beside him was Ery Crymson, his wife, with black eyes and golden hair that framed her face with majestic elegance.
Their daughter, Sery Crymson, the heir of this prestigious lineage, had burgundy-red hair and ink-black eyes. Her oval face was perfectly harmonious, resembling that of a princess. Despite her resemblance to her mother, her eyes betrayed her father's influence.
An aura of pride emanated from this elite family, resonating with those present.
Sery was the first child from an elite family to arrive at the center of the dome. Around her, more than five hundred children from lower classes waited, patience etched onto their faces, as whispers of the upcoming exam filled the air. With a slight nod, Sery began to scan her future rivals.
There was no palpable threat in the crowd until her eyes fell upon a boy with jet-black hair and a childlike face whose excited gaze swept the gathering.
"This boy looks threatening," she thought.
As she observed the young man, a girl with black hair and a round face approached, her eyes sparkling with admiration.
"Sery Crymson? A pleasure to meet you. My name is Laura. It's an honor to meet you; I'm a big fan of the Crymsons. I hope we can stay in touch after the exam," she said in a trembling voice.
"The Dantès family of the Boria Empire has arrived!" The Dantès family, the hegemons of the Boria Empire, stood there majestically.
Emperor Krys Dantès stepped forward first. His square face seemed carved from stone. His gaze, hard as rock, revealed an inner strength. His brown hair, carefully slicked back, had two rebellious strands falling near his eyebrows. His skin, pale with a bronze tint, added to his imposing demeanor. Behind him came Elyone Dantès, the youngest member of the family.
Unlike his father, Elyone had a delicate face that seemed almost otherworldly, adorned with light freckles. He chose to keep his hair long, styled into two buns that hinted at a certain audacity. His hazel eyes, shining with innocence, were untroubled by exam anxiety; instead, they searched for a familiar presence.
Subtly, he turned his gaze toward the Crymson family. A wave of disappointment washed over him when he realized their absence. Turning to his father, he asked,
"Father, did you lie to me? They're not here."
The emperor, smiling, replied, "They're simply late. Be patient."
"It's been so long since I've seen her, and she dares to be late," Elyone murmured, disappointed.
"Elyone, why don't you join the other children? You might make some friends. Remember, building connections is essential for the future," a soft voice sounded behind them.
It was his mother, Helene, wife of Krys Dantès, elegant beyond compare, with full lips and deep black eyes. She gestured toward two young girls chatting.
"Look at that young girl."
"Sery Crymson?" Elyone asked, perplexed.
"Yes. She's also your friend, if I'm not
mistaken. She doesn't seem to make distinctions based on rank. You should also build connections. If you find someone talented, keep them close. Understood?"
"Yes, Mother."
"Good. Now, go ahead."
Nodding at her advice, Elyone descended from the platform. As he moved forward, several young people his age gathered around him, forming a semicircle.
"Young Prince Dantès, my name is Jack."
"I'm Alexander."
One after another, they introduced
themselves. Elyone, despite his inner agitation, tried to listen, a fixed smile on his lips. Krys Dantès and his wife moved toward the seats reserved for high-ranking families.
Pery Crymson looked up, a provocative glint in his eyes.
"Emperor Dantès, it's been a while."
"Red Star? It seems you're still reluctant to bow as a greeting," Krys replied, a mocking smile on his face.
"One only bows to a ruler," retorted the Red Star sharply.
"What loyalty. Your daughter is here, isn't she? Do you think she'll surpass Elyone?"
"Hmm." A smile spread across Pery's lips.
"No need to do better. She just needs to make an impression, and I'm confident she will."
Krys narrowed his eyes, a frown betraying his irritation, but he replied calmly, "How about a wager?"
"What kind of wager?" Pery asked, intrigued, his interest piqued. "A wager with an emperor is never without gain, especially if there's profit to be made."
"Don't rush. Let's wait for the other families to arrive," Krys replied with a smile, looking at the youth, the future of this world, with quiet satisfaction.
A symbol appeared above the dome, capturing the participants' attention.
"They know how to put on a show," remarked Ery Crymson, Pery's wife, amused.
"Indeed, they know how to draw attention," replied Helene Dantès.
A lion coiled around a sword, the emblem of House Lumen, the ruling family of Lumina. Wisdom came to mind when speaking of this family. How could one speak of honor and wisdom without thinking of them, who placed their integrity above all else?
Then, the Lumen family made their entrance.
Leonord II, the second of his name, had a chiseled face, his piercing eyes indicating constant readiness for combat. His ash-blond hair fell over his shoulders, and a beard of a similar shade framed his face, while sky-blue eyes seemed to hold the heavens themselves.
Beside him stood Élya Lumen, his wife, sharing her husband's features but with angelic perfection, as if favored by destiny. Beside them, Lunar Lumen, the youngest, displayed a noble visage, like the heir of an ancient lineage.
His ash-blond hair cascaded around his face, while his sharp and slightly haughty gaze surveyed his surroundings. In a calm yet authoritative voice, he addressed his father:
"Father, I'm going down."
Leonord II did not turn to look at his son but gave a slight nod of approval.
Élya Lumen turned to her son, her gaze filled with tenderness.
She placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.
"Good luck, Lu."
"Thank you, Mother," Lunar replied, his eyes softening before he began to descend.
Lunar stood still for a moment, his eyes scanning the area with cold precision. He first noticed Sery Crymson, surrounded by a round-faced girl and two other young men.
To his right, Elyone Dantès was already at the center of a group.
If this test had been a team trial, Elyone would surely have been the leader. But what was it really? Lunar continued his walk, his mind constantly alert, scanning each face. Then his gaze froze.
A boy, alone. Sitting apart. A childlike face, hair as black as a starless night, and eyes like unfathomable ink. A shadow of the unspoken surrounded him.
Lunar narrowed his eyes. Without realizing it, his steps carried him toward the boy. His tone, when he spoke, was sharp and authoritative.
"You. What's your name? I'm Lunar."
The boy looked up, surprised, inquisitive. He glanced to the left, then to the right, seeking confirmation that the young prince was indeed addressing him.
"My name is Byron. It's an honor to meet you, young prince."
"Stop. I told you my name is Lunar. Why are you calling me young prince?" Lunar replied, irritated.
A faint smile brushed Byron's lips, his eyes lighting up with amused curiosity. "Of course, Lunar. But you see, there are many people here who'd like to meet you,"
he said, gesturing to the youths behind Lunar, eager to approach him.
Lunar glanced over his shoulder before turning his attention back to Byron, deliberately ignoring the remark.
"You're strong. Where are you from?"
Byron's face darkened, a shadow of regret crossing his expression.
"I don't come from a great family. I'm just someone from below," he replied, disappointed.
Lunar studied him for a moment before responding in a curt tone.
"Wear your origins with pride, or you'll be crushed. You seem talented, so never forget where you come from."
Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heels and walked away. Byron watched him leave, stunned.
From afar, he called out, "Thanks for the advice, Lunar." Lunar simply nodded before disappearing from view.
"The Sky family of the West Empire enters!" Still not him, Elyone thought.
"It looks like he'll arrive last," Lunar guessed. The Sky family, undisputed rulers of the West Empire, exuded an aura of power.
Empress Yelena Sky, alongside her daughter, was the living embodiment of grandeur. They resembled each other like two drops of water, but with distinct features. Yelena's caramel skin captured the sunlight like a mirror, shimmering in the summer breeze. Her dark brown hair, smooth and streaked with golden highlights, flowed gently around her sculpted face. Her midnight-blue eyes betrayed a cold indifference, as if nothing in the world could disturb her sovereign calm.
Ayla Sky, a miniature version of the empress, shared the same noble features. But while Yelena's hair was smooth, Ayla's wild curls added a fierce, untamed energy to her appearance.
"Ayla, you know what to do. Go on, show them what the heir of the Sky family is capable of,"
said the empress in a neutral, unyielding tone.
Without a word, Ayla nodded and descended toward the arena. Her gaze swept over Elyone, Lunar, and Sery in turn.
If she ranked above them, she would prove to everyone that she was the strongest of her generation. She didn't need to say it. For her, victory wasn't optional.
Then a roar split the air, echoing through the skies. One, then two, and finally three.
The dragons had arrived.
Ayla, still descending, raised her eyes to the sky. Her face remained expressionless, but her body trembled subtly.
In barely contained turmoil, the spectators stirred nervously. The Crimsons and their guards jumped to their feet, while the Dantès, the Sky, and the Lumen remained seated, their confidence unshaken.
Yet their gazes were fixed on the dragons that had appeared. The three titanic creatures landed on different points of the dome, and a synchronized roar shook the arena.
Fear crept into the crowd.
Even the children of the highest elite families, who considered themselves invincible, were stunned.
Among the lower-ranking families under the Dantès, Sky, and Lumen, a silent terror gripped their hearts.
Somewhere amid this tension, Percy Crimson, the Red Star, felt a growing pride, a fleeting smile appearing on his lips.
"The Zeta are present as well," a voice noted. A chilling shiver ran through the assembly.
Who did not know the Zeta? That family, rising like a storm, had faced the unimaginable: a hurricane of war and blood.
They left only corpses in their wake. No prisoners.
Ever. Since their rise three centuries ago, at the helm of the Zeyos Empire, their name had resounded like a curse among the great lineages, warriors whose shadow threatened to consume everything.
Azhel I, head of the Zeta, appeared alongside Zoey Zeta. Behind them, an eight-year-old boy walked with disconcerting nobility.
His face, sculpted in near-perfect symmetry, contrasted with the evident boredom in his metallic grey-blue eyes. His silver-grey curls, tied in a ponytail, let two rebellious strands fall across his forehead. His caramel skin shone under the sun like his hair, which seemed to attract the light itself.
Azhel cast a proud look at his son. "If you finish first, I'll give you a gift," he said.
Zikron's previously disinterested eyes lit up with determination. "What kind of gift?" he asked, a spark of curiosity flickering in his gaze.
"Look over there," Zoey said, pointing at the sea of youths standing in the arena.
Zikron focused on the spot his mother indicated. Among the familiar faces, he recognized old friends but also new adversaries worthy of his attention.
A pure and burning excitement ignited within him.
"Forget the gift, Mom, Dad. I think it's about to begin," he said with a joyful smile, barely hiding his impatience.
Without waiting for a reply, he rushed toward the arena, his excitement barely contained.
Azhel smiled as he watched him go, then turned his gaze toward the seats of the other royal families. Below, he spotted Percy Crimson, bowing in unison alongside his wife, followed by the elite families of the Zeyos Empire.
"We salute the dragons," they said respectfully.
Azhel responded with a simple nod before heading with Zoey to their seats, their steps calm and indifferent. The emperors present observed the scene with a hint of irritation.
Their tacit rivalry was palpable, and the silence between them was a brewing storm. Krys Dantès broke the tension with a light laugh, drawing everyone's attention.
"Before your arrival, I proposed a wager to the Red Star. But what better than to share this wager with all of you?"
"What kind of wager?" asked Empress Yelena, an amused smile forming at the corner of her lips.
"On our children," he replied, a sly gleam in his eyes.
Zoey, who until then had shown no interest in the conversation, slowly turned her head, her gaze locking onto Emperor Dantès with a dark and menacing intensity. The tension, already palpable, suddenly thickened, weighing on the atmosphere like a heavy, impending storm.