The academy courtyard buzzed with whispers and murmurs, students gathering in tight clusters as they absorbed the latest announcement.
The graduation exams had been formally declared.
It was now official—in just two months, each department would have to prove their worth in trials designed to push them to their limits.
For most students, this was the culmination of their efforts—the test that would decide whether they stood among the elite or faded into mediocrity.
Kalem leaned against a stone pillar, arms crossed, as the full details of the exams were laid out before them.
The elementalists had the simplest yet most daunting challenge:
Body transformation.
To graduate, they would have to infuse their bodies with their respective elements, proving mastery over their abilities. Those who succeeded would be rewarded with an elemental crystal, a rare artifact that enhanced elemental affinities and allowed for further development.
Kalem's eyes flickered toward Nara.
She clenched her fists, fire flickering at her fingertips before fading away. "Guess this means I need to push my transformation further."
"You're already ahead," Kalem noted. "Your fire is internal now. Most students are still external casters."
Nara smirked. "True, but I want the crystal."
She wasn't alone. The elementalists in the crowd buzzed with anticipation and fear. This was the path to true elemental mastery—or humiliating failure.
The spellcasters faced a different kind of trial.
They were required to cast a complex spell—with no incantation, no preparation, and under a minute.
A silent casting of a high-tier spell was no easy feat. Even the most advanced mages relied on chants, formulas, or catalysts. To conjure magic with pure instinct and skill required a deep, intrinsic connection to the arcane.
Isolde's expression was unreadable.
"That's a hard test," Lyra admitted. "Even experienced mages struggle with instant-casting high-tier spells."
"I'll pass." Isolde's voice was calm but absolute.
Kalem didn't doubt her. Isolde had spent the last few months honing her ice magic to terrifying precision. If anyone could meet the time limit, it was her.
The reward for success was tempting—the right to choose any three spell formulas from the academy's archives.
For most mages, that was an unparalleled opportunity. The academy's spell archives contained knowledge not found anywhere else—lost spells, experimental techniques, secret incantations.
Some students would kill for the chance to claim such power.
The history students had a unique challenge.
Instead of a practical test, they would engage in a verbal duel against a professor, debating the subject they had spent years studying.
A battle of knowledge, rhetoric, and interpretation.
If they won, they would be rewarded with a history totem, granting them the title of an official academy historian—or, for those uninterested in the title, a significant monetary reward.
Kalem glanced at Garrick, who was already deep in thought.
"You're going for the title, aren't you?" Kalem asked.
Garrick smirked. "Of course. The money is tempting, but being an official historian means I get unrestricted access to the archives."
Kalem understood. Garrick wasn't after status or wealth—he wanted knowledge.
And history was not just about the past. It was about understanding the future.
The beast study division had one of the most dangerous trials.
Students would be sent into an artificially created biome, where they would hunt wild beasts.
The test wasn't just about killing—it was about understanding the hunt. Tracking, adaptation, teamwork.
The student who claimed the biggest game would be rewarded with an official position as a beast researcher or a custom hunting weapon from the Bank.
Jhaeros exhaled slowly. "This test… isn't going to be easy."
Velka growled softly beside him, while Noir flicked its tail impatiently.
"You're used to hunting," Kalem pointed out.
Jhaeros nodded. "Yes, but this isn't natural hunting. The biome will be manipulated, and we don't know what kind of creatures they'll throw at us."
His concern was valid. The academy's artificially created environments were unpredictable.
Jhaeros wasn't worried about failing—he was worried about what he would have to fight.
The alchemy students had perhaps the most academic trial.
They were required to present their research paper to a panel of experts.
If their findings were deemed valuable, they would be granted official researcher status at the academy—or they could choose any high-class alchemical ingredient they desired.
Lyra was already scribbling notes, her mind racing.
"This is perfect," she muttered.
Kalem smirked. "You already have something in mind?"
"I've been working on a new catalytic stabilizer," she said. "If I can prove it works, I might get access to restricted ingredients."
Alchemy was an art and a science, and in a world that feared uncontrolled explosions, proving an invention was safe was often harder than inventing it in the first place.
Lyra's excitement was clear. This was her chance to leave a mark.
The material division students were split into two paths:
Those studying synthetic material synthesis had to present their own creation. Those focusing on theory had to defend their research paper.
Success meant one of two things:
Access to any material of their choosing.
A place as a researcher in the material division.
For engineers and inventors, this was huge. The ability to obtain any material—no matter how rare or expensive—could change everything.
Kalem leaned back, thinking about his own experiments.
Materials were the foundation of invention. If he could secure a rare alloy or an advanced composite, he could take his projects to another level.
His thoughts wandered to his other, more dangerous ideas.
If they knew what he was working on, would they even let him pass?
The announcement ended, and the students dispersed.
The atmosphere had changed.
Before, the academy had been filled with debates and philosophical reflections. Now, the focus had shifted.
Everyone was preparing—training, researching, refining.
This was it.
Two months.
Two months to prove their worth.
Two months to secure their future.
Kalem exhaled, a smirk playing on his lips.
The trials ahead would be tough, but that was fine.
He had never been one to back down from a challenge.