A bell rang.
Not a school bell. Not musical. It sounded like steel being struck underwater—deep, slow, and final.
Jace opened his eyes.
Same mattress. Same cracked ceiling. Same ants climbing the wall.
Rook rocked slowly in the corner chair, watching him with half-lidded eyes.
ROOK (soft):"Wake up, soldier. It's showtime."
Outside, students were already moving. Footsteps echoed in the hall. Voices—some excited, most anxious.
The speakers above the door crackled.
"All initiates report to Field Sigma for Orientation. Mandatory."
Jace stood. Didn't rush. Didn't wash. Just slipped on the thin jacket they gave him, ran a hand through his hair, and left.
Academy Walkway — 9:47 AM
The halls were cleaner than the dorms, but colder. Stone floors. Walls lined with banners for factions Jace had never heard of—black suns, weeping masks, one that looked like a crown made of thorns.
As he walked, the crowd parted for him—not out of respect. Out of something colder.
People stared.
Some whispered.
Some didn't bother hiding their disgust.
A few looked afraid.One even bumped into a wall trying not to walk near him.
Jace kept moving, hands in pockets. Calm.
ROOK (walking beside him):"You see their eyes? That's not curiosity. That's instinct. You're the stray dog that won't die."
JACE:"Good."
ROOK:"Why?"
JACE:"Means they won't ask for favors."
A girl passed him on the stairs, slowed down, turned just slightly—and spit on the floor after he passed.
He didn't look back.
Field Sigma — 10:04 AM
It wasn't a field. It was a training arena, half sunken into the earth. Bleachers wrapped around the edges. Sharp concrete pillars jutted from the ground like broken bones.
Jace stepped through the gates.
The students were already sorted—rows of uniforms in different shades. Blue for Magi. Red for Weaponists. White for Scholars. Green for Trackers.
Jace wore grey.
No one else did.
As he entered, heads turned. Silence spread.
A voice overhead crackled from the tower:
"Initiates. Welcome to Astra Academy."
"You are not students. You are not citizens. You are resources."
"And today, we separate those worth sharpening from those worth discarding."
A platform rose from the center of the arena.
A woman in silver armor stood atop it—tall, sharp-jawed, with a spear strapped across her back.
WOMAN:"I am Captain Vael. Trialmaster of the first orientation."
She scanned the crowd once.
Then her eyes stopped on Jace.
VAEL:"Before we begin—let's deal with the anomaly."
Everyone turned to him.
VAEL:"Jace Marrow. No affinity. No faction. No record. No known abilities. And yet—you survived the pull."
Jace didn't speak.
VAEL:"Step forward."
He walked to the center slowly.
Rook followed, but no one else could see him.
ROOK (grinning):"Front and center. You always did love the spotlight."
VAEL (coldly):"You are to undergo a solo trial. You'll be dropped into a live environment. No gear. No support. No time limit."
VAEL (to the crowd):"If he survives, he stays. If not, the system corrects itself."
Students murmured. Laughed. One boy in red armor clapped slowly.
Jace didn't react.
VAEL:"Any objections?"
ROOK:"Yeah. He left his good luck at home."
Jace stepped into the ring.
VAEL:"Begin."
The floor opened beneath him.
And he fell.