Dinner was quiet today.
Most were thinking about the upcoming exam tomorrow.
Silence was broken on our table by a person that was approaching.
It seemed like a trend to approach our table these days.
Thalia, of House Seraphen.
She was on our team, naturally she was going to try to break the ice.
Throughout the 15 years here, I had not talked to her once.
It was just how it was in here.
She sat down without asking. A plate in her hands, expression casual.
"Mind if I join?" she said—after she'd already settled.
Calixtus looked up, mouth half-full. "Technically? No. But socially? Bit late for the question."
She grinned, unfazed. "Noted."
Eleanor gave her a small nod. "Thalia."
"Zonara," Thalia replied, matching the formality with just a hint of playfulness. "Angelus." Then she glanced at me, blue eyes studying just a bit too long. "And Empire."
I didn't respond.
Calixtus leaned forward slightly. "We were wondering when our mysterious fourth would grace us."
"I like to make an entrance," Thalia said. "And I figured you'd all be brooding about tomorrow. No point in interrupting a good brood."
Calixtus snorted. "You're not wrong."
Thalia picked at her food, then continued. "So. Since we're going to be stuck in the woods together, might as well figure out who's likely to steal all the blankets or talk in their sleep."
Eleanor raised an eyebrow. "That's your priority?"
Thalia shrugged. "Hey, I can handle danger. What I can't handle is a teammate kicking me in the ribs mid-dream."
Calixtus leaned back, amused. "Noted. I'll keep my sleep-convulsions to myself."
Thalia grinned. "Appreciated."
Calixtus pointed a finger at Eleanor. "That was aimed at me, wasn't it?"
Thalia just smiled.
House Seraphen was dangerous. They had the Seed of Sound.
Sound wasn't just a medium—it was a weapon. Vibration, frequency, pitch—each had applications in battle, communication, even perception.
At lower levels, it allowed silent movement, voice projection, and vibration sensing. At its peak? It could disorient, disable, or even rupture internal organs. And in the right hands—Seraphen hands—it could do so without ever being noticed. Truly dangerous. They were ranked 6th in the Empire.
Calixtus gave her a sideways look.
"You going to lull the wildlife to sleep for us?"
Thalia didn't miss a beat. "You are a funny one Angelus."
Then—just briefly—her smile dimmed.
"To be frank, I think I know why I was placed with you three."
She stirred the food on her plate with her fork, not looking up.
"I talk. Just… not a lot," Thalia said, her tone still carrying that easy, offhand energy. "Not exactly rare in here. Most of us keep to ourselves."
She poked at her food once with her fork.
"But you know how this place is—doesn't take much to earn someone's grudge. A misstep in sparring, too sharp a word during drills... Opportunities to dislike each other come pre-packaged."
Her voice was even, but there was something settled behind it.
"And I've taken a few of those opportunities, apparently." She gave a faint shrug. "Enough that a few names on the roster might see me as a liability—or a stepping stone."
She glanced around the table, then added more quietly, "So yeah. I was glad to be placed with you three."
Eleanor gave a small nod. Not warm, but understanding.
Calixtus tilted his head. "We're flattered. I think."
Thalia's smirk returned—faint, but real.
"Anyway," she said, voice shifting into something more focused. "Enough of that. We need to talk strategy."
She looked at each of us in turn.
"I have rough reads on everyone. I make a habit of it. Observation is half my discipline. But vague impressions won't help once we're out there."
"…but if there's anything we can use to keep each other alive—it should probably be said now."
Her voice wasn't commanding. Just honest.
I chose to respond.
She'd been watching during my fight with Lukas. I was sure she noticed the shift—the new technique. Mentioning it now wouldn't cost me anything. And it was sure to earn more of her trust.
Which would be beneficial for me.
"We could work well together," I said, keeping my tone even. "Your sound manipulation could make me invisible to most senses—especially against beasts that rely on vibration or scent over vision."
I let that sit for a beat.
"Recently, I developed a technique. My mana trace disappears—fully suppressed—until a millisecond before impact. To most, it looks like I strike without buildup."
This was extremely useful against humans too, but I did not want to mention it.
"That is great. We can have good cooperation."
She thought for a second, and then asked.
"Angelus, how does your Seed work...? It was always mysterious to me but never had a reason to probe."
Calixtus gave a small shrug. "It's called the Seed of Phantom."
"Phase-type. I can shift parts of my body out of physical space—make them intangible."
He tapped his chest once.
"If I phase through something and re-solidify too early, I break ribs. If I time it right, I can pass through a wall without feeling a thing."
He said it casually, but the technique was anything but simple.
"It's not invisibility. It's not teleportation. I'm still moving. Still there. Just not in contact with the world while I pass through it."
Thalia looked intrigued. "You can phase your whole body?"
Calixtus nodded. "Yeah. Takes precision. Breath control, orientation, surface awareness. But if I line it up clean, I can move through structures, through terrain, even attacks."
"Can't stay in that state too long, though," he added. "Hard to breathe when your lungs don't exist."
Thalia let out a short laugh. "And here I thought my Seed had a learning curve."
Calixtus grinned. "I do my best."
Dinner ended. It was time for studying.
I wrote down everything I remembered about the Veiled Forest. Cross-referenced it with what we'd been taught over the years—terrain structure, mana density, known species, seasonal hazards—and revised it twice.
I remembered most of it.
I wasn't worried. Not about the forest.
Next came survival strategy. War attrition theory. Environmental combat.
Then I reviewed our lectures on mana beasts—their instincts, biology, and the tactics used to deal with each one.
I committed every detail to memory.
After two hours, I closed the dataplate.
I stood, stretched lightly, and returned the dataplate to its station.
I passed Eleanor's room on the way back.
She was leaning against her doorframe, arms crossed, gazing into nothing.
"You good?" I asked, without stopping.
"I'll be fine," she said. Her tone wasn't convincing.
"Rest."
She gave a slow nod. I kept walking.
Normally, the Instructors enforced curfew the moment studying ended. Tonight, they didn't.
A quiet concession, maybe. The kind granted before storms.
Tomorrow after breakfast, we were scheduled to be transported to the exam.
Sleep came quickly.
The day had ended.
We woke up.
We ate quickly and well, as we were not sure when the next meal was going to be.
Soon after, we were called to the hall.
Instructor Nyra stood at the front, arms behind her back.
"We're departing for the Veiled Forest now," she said. "Line up. Single file. Follow me."
Taken along the never ending halls.
We were taken outside the facility.
Not to the usual simulation grounds meant for fresh air and controlled wilderness. This was different.
This was out.
The Institution had always been isolated—by design. Perched atop a high ridge on the outermost spine of the plateau, it stood apart. A fortress built for shaping weapons, not fostering citizens.
But stepping past the final gate revealed something else entirely.
The view opened before us, clear and vast.
Below lay Velmaris—the capital of the Varean Empire.
We had seen pictures before. Old projections during lectures. But they had been two-dimensional—flat, lifeless. This was something else. This was real.
The city shimmered beneath the morning sun.
Marble towers soared skyward in layered symmetry, rising like polished bones from the earth. Their surfaces caught the light in gleaming bands, accented by gold-lined edges and azure stonework. Bridges arched between rooftops. Hanging banners rippled along every main avenue—deep blue with radiant sun emblems at their center.
And the domes.
Golden, massive, and radiant—dozens of them crowned the key districts. They caught the light in waves, throwing it back into the sky like halos.
It was magnificent. History that made this place was fascinating.
But more than that—it was alive.
Even from this distance, we could see the movement. The pulse.
Vendors were already set up along the lower causeways, stalls flanked by pedestrians, nobles in long cloaks and commonfolk in tradesman garb weaving between them. Street performers balanced on corner pedestals, their mana-infused acts glowing in brief flares. Laughter rose in spurts. Conversations spilled through the open spaces.
It wasn't just order—it was harmony. Controlled chaos, elegant and breathing.
There were a lot of people. Not close to us—but we could see them clearly.
And yet, none of it came close.
There was still a line.
A spatial divide.
Nyra's boots stopped at the ridge's edge.
Some of the students had slowed—just a moment. Just to look.
She didn't tolerate that.
"Eyes forward," she said, sharp as cut obsidian. "You're not here to sightsee."
Her gaze swept over us.
"This is not a field trip. This is the beginning of your evaluation. Let awe wait until you've earned the right to stand beneath it."
A low hum filled the air.
Then came the sound—not a roar, not a cry, but a deep, resonant thrum that vibrated the ribs and settled in the teeth. Like the sky itself was preparing to open.
Everyone turned towards it instinctively.
"Focus," Nyra said again. "Our transport is arriving."
We looked up.
And saw it.
Descending from the clouds above—its vast wings slicing through the mist in slow, deliberate rhythm—was a creature unlike anything we'd ever studied.
The Shiran Veydrak.
Its silhouette blotted out the sun for a heartbeat, casting a radiant eclipse across the ridge. Its wings were immense—coated in translucent armor that shimmered with refracted sunlight. Its body moved like liquid muscle beneath scale-feathers dark as onyx, lines of golden energy pulsing through each movement like veins of living fire.
It didn't flap.
It glided—almost like it had no need to follow wind, like it was beneath it.
As it neared, it tilted its wings and landed with a grace that belied its mass. The moment its claws touched the stone, the earth beneath us quaked—subtle, but undeniable.
It lowered its head.
Not to the crowd.
To InstructorNyra.
The towering creature dipped its crested crown toward her—wings folding with the sound of shifting armor—as if in reverence.
She didn't speak.
Didn't move.
She simply placed one gloved hand on the side of its muzzle.
And it stilled.
Obedient.
Nyra turned back to us.
"No delays. Mount up."
As we began moving toward the creature, I heard Instructor Justinian step to her side.
His voice was low—intended to be private—but distance wasn't enough when someone like me was listening. With my heightened senses.
"Grandmaster," he said. "The formations are holding. But if the southern winds shift again—"
I didn't hear the rest.
Not because I couldn't.
But because the word lingered.
Grandmaster.
Nyra hadn't just been another instructor brought in for the Special Exam.
She was the one in charge.
And for a moment, it felt like she wasn't looking at me—but through me. Past the flesh.
Then I heard it.
Not aloud.
Inside.
"Was that surprising, child?"
I remembered what Vigilius once told me—about being the most lethal individiual given 60 seconds.
I wasn't so sure anymore.
And if he was wrong… I needed to know just how wrong.
I didn't react, on the outside at least. Just kept walking toward the glorious beast like nothing had happened.
The creature shifted, angling its wings downward—broad membranes folding in a way that created a ramp, wide and stable, for us to climb.
One by one, we boarded.
All sixteen of us along with The Instructors.
Once we were all seated along the designated grooves on the creature's back, a shimmer passed over the edge.
A barrier.
Thin, translucent, pulsing with faint threads of mana. Likely a safeguard—to ensure none of us would fall, should something go wrong during flight.
Or maybe… to make sure no one could jump.
The Shiran Veydrak shifted its weight, wings spreading wide. The air changed—pressure dipping, wind curling at the edges of reality.
Nyra raised her hand and snapped.
The creature responded at once.
It launched from the stone, claws carving through the platform in a burst of force. A single, immense leap, and we were no longer bound to the ground.
Its wings unfurled with a sound like thunder rolled in silk. One beat. Then another. Air surged around us—cold, fierce, alive.
The ground fell away beneath us, shrinking into distance.
The clouds parted.
We were airborne.