The light spilling through the high training room windows was pale and clean—early morning.
Kael lingered near the far side of the hall, posture relaxed but alert. His Research Division uniform, crisp and blue, caught none of the attention—it was the quiet way he held himself that made space around him.
Altherion stood beside him, arms crossed loosely, a trace of ease on his face. The sharp red of the Attack Division marked him, but his expression was softer now. At the sound of shifting gates, he glanced toward the archway on the other end of the room.
"I see them," he said, his tone casual.
Through the open gate, his teammates appeared—a small group in matching red uniforms, laughing among themselves as they approached.
Altherion turned to Kael. "Guess this is where I leave you," he said, extending a hand.
Kael took it without hesitation. "For now."
Altherion smirked. "Let's see if you're still this calm after what they've got planned for us."
He turned and walked away, blending easily into the red-clad group, the conversation already picking up around him.
Kael remained in place for a few quiet moments. Then—
Footsteps.
Not heavy, not rushed.
Ren's familiar frame appeared first through the side corridor, eyes scanning the space as he stepped in. He wore the same blue uniform as Kael, his hair slightly more tamed than usual. When he saw Kael, he lit up.
"There you are," Ren said, approaching. "I thought I'd be the last one in."
Kael tilted his head. "You're early."
"Barely," Ren grinned. "But hey, I'll take the win."
Another pair of steps echoed through the hallway. Liane entered calmly, her white-silver hair tied back, and her lightning-marked eyes taking in the room with sharp awareness. She moved like she didn't need to check her surroundings—but still did anyway.
Ren turned. "Liane! We beat you here."
"I know," she said, walking over. "The hallway was blocked—training gear delivery. Someone decided to yell at the poor workers. It got... dramatic."
Ren chuckled. "And you didn't stay to watch?"
"I considered it."
Kael gave the faintest breath of amusement.
For a moment, the three stood in a soft circle—no instructions yet, no commanders barking orders. Just air, and familiarity.
"You two look the same," Ren said, half-teasing as he looked between Kael and Liane. "Still intimidating."
Liane arched a brow. "And you still talk too much when you're nervous."
"I'm not nervous," Ren said quickly—then hesitated. "Okay, maybe a little. First day back."
Kael nodded. "Better that than being too relaxed."
A pause settled between them. Not awkward—just quiet.
Then Liane spoke, softer this time. "It's good to see you both."
Ren smiled. "Yeah. It is."
Kael didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. The atmosphere between the three was enough—balanced and calm, like the rhythm had returned without needing to be named.
And just outside the gates, the morning light continued to rise.
------
*The Ceremony**
The courtyard was wide and open, its polished stone glowing faintly beneath the midday sun. High banners in red, blue, and green flanked the walls—each representing the three main divisions. A low buzz of voices filled the space, woven with the occasional sound of footsteps, shifting uniforms, and distant bell tones marking the hour.
Kael stood among the Research Division recruits, his posture quiet and unreadable. Ren stood just beside him, visibly alert, his eyes flicking across the crowd. Liane stood further back, but still close—arms folded, gaze steady.
Across the courtyard, groups formed quickly by division. Red for Attack, blue for Research, and green for Custom Operations. The uniforms were crisp, but not all the recruits wore the same expression—some were brimming with excitement, others looked overwhelmed, and a few just looked like they didn't sleep.
A bell rang twice—low and deliberate.
Silence swept across the space almost instantly.
A tall woman in blue stepped up onto the central platform—Captain Elanor. Her voice, when it came, was sharp and clear.
"Welcome to the Central Stronghold," she began. "You've each passed the initial trials of your regions. From this point forward, your progress will be measured not by where you came from—but by what you become here."
Her eyes moved across the crowd—sharp, but not unkind.
"You are now part of a system that balances knowledge, execution, and strength. The Research Division," she gestured briefly to her right, "exists to understand the deeper nature of magic, matter, and memory. The Custom Operations Division," a nod to her left, "serves as the link between the two—unpredictable, unconventional, and precise. And the Attack Division," she paused slightly, gaze landing forward, "is the final blade drawn when no other choice remains."
A few heads lifted with pride from the red-clad group.
"You are not bound to remain in the division you entered. Advancement, transition, or reassignment will be determined by your performance and potential. Your captains are watching, so are others."
The silence deepened.
"You may think this is the end of the test. It isn't. It's only the beginning."
She stepped back, and another figure— a woman in green—stepped forward briefly to list the logistical schedules, names of the training leads, curfews, and group rotations. Most of it blurred into a long rhythm of structure and rules.
Kael didn't react to any of it—but his eyes moved occasionally to Altherion across the courtyard.
And just like that, the speeches ended.
The bell rang once more—lighter this time. A signal that the formality had passed, and training rotations would begin the next morning.
The recruits began to scatter—some in quiet reflection, others in loud chatter.
Kael, Liane, and Ren didn't move immediately.
"Well," Ren said after a pause, "I guess now we find out what we're really made of."
Kael gave a small nod. "They'll find out too."
Liane said nothing—but there was the faintest curve to her lips.
They stepped off the stone courtyard, slipping back into the current of new beginnings.
-------
***
The dining hall buzzed with low voices, scattered laughter, and the soft clatter of trays. Recruits filled the long stone tables in clusters—green, blue, and red uniforms blending as the newest additions to the divisions settled into their routines.
But a different current moved through the air—thin and subtle, yet impossible to ignore.
From a nearby bench, two Custom Division recruits leaned in.
"They said an entire area near Gorran Vale got leveled. No bodies, no sign of struggle—just crushed terrain. Like it collapsed in on itself."
"No glyphs left behind?"
"None. Whatever happened… it didn't leave a trace. Not a normal one, anyway."
A group of recruits in red overheard and joined in with their own version.
"I heard it wasn't the land—it was a person. A figure in black. Just appeared. No sound. No magic signature. Just… pressure. One scout passed out just from sensing it."
Another voice piped up from a group seated closer to the far wall.
"That doesn't make sense. If someone did all that, why not take credit? Who hides power like that?"
"Someone who doesn't need credit."
Further down the row, recruits from the western territories blinked in confusion.
"Wait, what are you all talking about?"
One of the green-uniformed recruits turned to them, eyes wide.
"You haven't heard?"
The reply was a simple shake of the head.
A beat of silence passed. Then the rumors moved on, jumping to the next table, the next voice, the next embellished detail. Each version more vague or more impossible than the last. A figure. A shadow. A presence that broke the earth. A wave of pressure. The sudden end of Volst. No name. No origin.
And at a quieter table near the edge of the room,Ren leaned in slightly, brows furrowed. "You think it's true?" he murmured to Liane.
Liane didn't answer right away. Her eyes were sharp, focused—not skeptical, but calculating.
"If it is," she said finally, "I doubt we've seen anything yet."
Kael sat silently listening. Not looking at them. Not reacting. As if it was the first time he was hearing any of it.
But deep inside, he knew.
He had not only caught the attention of the captains—
He had become the center of every whisper in the hall.
And though he kept his expression calm—untouched by it all—he couldn't stop the small, quiet smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Ren leaned slightly toward Liane, lowering his voice. "It's kind of wild, huh? One shadow shows up, and suddenly the whole place forgets how to breathe."
Liane didn't look away from the murmuring group. "People love a ghost story when they don't have the facts."