Kuro returned to the registration building the next morning, but the old man was nowhere to be seen. In his place stood a younger official, clad in standard clan garb, straight-backed and cold-eyed.
"You here for the trial?" the man asked.
Kuro gave a small nod.
After a glance at the plaque in his hand, the official motioned for him to follow.
They moved through the winding paths of the compound until it opened into a vast training ground—larger than anything Kuro had expected. On either side of the grounds rose gallery stands, weather-worn but sturdy, rising up to what looked like five levels. A small stadium, by structure and purpose.
At the centre of the grounds stood a raised platform—a stage of sorts—flanked by basic but formal seating arrangements.
On the field, already assembled, stood seven others.
Each one looked a head taller than him. Broader. More filled out. From the look of them—posture, size, quiet tension—they had to be ten years old. The maximum age allowed for entry into the trial.
Kuro realised then, with a strange calm, that he was the youngest.
The official led him toward a man standing alone near the stage.
The man was built like a fortress—thick arms, broad shoulders, bald head. His uniform was compact and tight to the body, deep black with accents of red, and across his chest, stitched in old Yamihana dialect, was a single name:
Takeshi.
A red dragon was embroidered across the back of his coat—elegant, precise. Kuro's eyes lingered on it. Dragons… remnants of myth before the Convergence. Before the Cataclysm. Supposedly extinct.
The official gave a curt nod to Takeshi, then turned and left without a word.
Takeshi glanced at Kuro.
"Name?"
"Kuro Yamihana."
The man studied him for a second, eyes unreadable, then handed him a small slip with a single number:
8.
"Stand over there," he said, pointing beside the others. "The trial begins soon."
Kuro moved without question.
The other participants eyed him as he passed, but none spoke. All of them wore the same expression—tense, pale, backs straight. Just like him. Some clenched their fists. Others kept glancing at the stands, as if someone they knew might appear.
One by one, more children trickled in.
Soon they numbered thirty.
And just as the final entrant arrived, the large metal gates of the stadium groaned shut behind them, sealing the space with a deep, echoing thud.
Silence followed.
It was about to begin.
The man at the center stepped forward.
"I am Takeshi," he announced, voice firm, cutting through the quiet. "I'll be your proctor for the first phase of this trial."
His gaze swept over the thirty gathered youths.
"This portion will test your stamina and endurance. It is the most basic requirement. Fail here, and you're out."
As he spoke, movement stirred at the far end of the grounds.
A group began to enter—adults, this time. They wore healer's robes, white with the clan's insignia stitched at the cuffs. A few carried stretchers, makeshift mats. Others carried large wooden crates. Kuro counted them all as they passed. Thirty.
Takeshi didn't stop.
"There are no second chances. Meet the standard, or leave."
Kuro glanced sideways. The others had the same look he wore—uncertain, tense. No one here knew what the standard was. It hadn't been explained. Not by Hida. Not by the old man. Not even now.
Takeshi folded his arms.
"You're wondering what the benchmark is," he said. "That's part of the trial. You won't be told. You either have it, or you don't."
He let that hang in the air.
"And before you panic—no, none of you will die here."
A few shoulders eased. Not many.
Kuro didn't relax.
Takeshi's lip curled.
"And for those of you thinking back to what the old man at registration told you—he lied."
Heads turned, some too quickly.
"He said you'd scrub floors forever if you failed, right? Serve as menials the rest of your lives?" A dry laugh escaped his throat. "He plays with new blood. Keeps him amused. He's already got one foot in the grave."
Suddenly, a brittle laugh echoed from the highest level of the stands.
There, leaning on the railing, was the old man—robe fluttering, face slack with a crooked grin. He didn't speak. Just watched, eyes unreadable.
Takeshi didn't look up.
"That's one of the judges overseeing this trial," he said. "They call him Hidden Dragon. You can try remembering that, though it won't matter."
He turned back to the group.
"If you fail, you'll be dismissed. Your memory of this test, and this place, will be wiped. You'll go back to wherever you came from. You'll remember nothing."
His eyes narrowed.
"Now Begin."
As he spoke, Kuro's eyes suddenly grew cloudy, as though something inside him shifted. He felt a strange pull, a sensation of falling—downward, yet not in any way he could describe. The ground seemed to drop away beneath him, and everything around him blurred.
When the vertigo finally stopped, Kuro's senses cleared.
He blinked, looking around, trying to orient himself. The ground beneath his feet was rough, jagged terrain. He could feel the heat pressing against his skin—an oppressive, searing warmth that seemed to hang in the air like a heavy cloak.
Far in the distance, looming over everything, was a massive mountain. It towered high above, its peak lost in the distance—too far to reach, too immense to comprehend.
The sky above him was an unfamiliar shade of blue. It was like nothing he had seen back in the city. A strange, round object hung in the sky, almost blinding with its intensity. It emitted a harsh, blazing heat, and he found himself squinting against the glare.
His mind flickered for a moment, and then, from some distant memory, a word rose to the surface—sun.
He didn't know much about it, but his mother had said it often enough. The sun. A thing that gave warmth.
It seemed to burn the world around him now.
Confusion crept into his thoughts. Where am I?
It was just him, standing alone in a vast, empty land with only the distant mountain and the unbearable sun for company.
He didn't understand.
But there was no time for hesitation. His senses were already alert. The trial had begun.
Kuro took a deep breath, adjusting to the heat, the silence. He could feel his body tense as he braced for whatever was coming next. The trial had only just started, and he needed to be ready for whatever it threw at him.
Then the ground behind him shook.
Kuro froze.
Thud.
Thud.
The vibrations hit his feet like muffled impacts, each one heavier than the last. He turned, slowly—heart already slamming in his chest.
What he saw made his breath hitch.
Darkness.
It poured across the distant horizon like a tide, and within it—figures. Massive. Towering. Rough outlines of things that didn't look human. Not beasts either. Something else. Their steps tore into the earth, and though they were still far, he could already feel them.
Kuro didn't think. He ran.
The first word that punched through his mind was the most primal one possible.
Death.
And it was coming for him.