The practical exam began without giving anyone enough time to breathe.
After the written exam ended and the failing candidates were removed from the arena, the sand looked almost empty compared to before. When Eiden first woke up here, there had been so many people that the whole place had felt like a market with weapons hidden under the tables, but now the remaining candidates stood in scattered groups, and the space between them made the arena feel larger, colder, and much more serious.
Eiden looked around and tried to count them without looking like he was counting them. There had been about five hundred people at the beginning, but now maybe two hundred remained, maybe a little more or maybe a little less. Either way, more than half were gone.
His hand still hurt from the written exam. His knee had gone numb from using his leg as a desk, his fingers felt stiff, his back ached, and there was sand inside his boot. Probably both boots.
And according to Orin, it was now time for the practical exam.
“Mira Voss lifted one hand. This time, the arena grew quiet much faster than before. The written exam had taught everyone something useful: when Mira spoke, not listening could bite you in the ass very quickly.”
“The practical exam has three parts,” Mira said. Her voice carried clearly across the sand. “First, affinity and mana response measurement. Second, controlled output. Third, applied casting under pressure.”
A few people shifted uneasily, and Eiden did not blame them. “Applied casting under pressure” sounded like a polite way to say “we will try to make you panic while you are holding something dangerous.”
Orin Keld stood with his arms folded. “If that scares you, good. Fear means you understand the situation.”
Someone near Eiden whispered, “That’s not comforting.”
Orin’s head turned toward the voice, and the whisperer immediately stopped existing.
Serren Vale stood beside Mira, quiet as always, hands tucked into their sleeves. Their eyes moved across the candidates slowly.
“Affinity measurement is not a ranking,” Serren said. “A high number doesn’t make you anyone, and a low number doesn’t make you worthless. If you want numbers to matter, go to the Royal Academy.”
Mira stepped toward the center of the arena and touched the silver badge on her chest. The sand in front of her began to glow in a wide circle. Lines of pale blue light cut through the ground, forming clean geometric shapes, and then the sand split apart in four sections and sank down, as if someone had opened a hidden door beneath the arena floor.
Something rose from below.
At first, Eiden thought it was an altar. Then he saw the metal frame, the crystals, the glass tubes, the rotating brass rings, and the central stone plate, and understood that it was not an altar. It was a device. A very expensive-looking device.
The base was circular and made of dark metal, with silver lines running through it like veins. Four tall frames stood around the center, each one holding fist-sized crystals in different colors. There were thin glass tubes filled with moving vapor, brass needles, small rune plates, and rotating lenses that kept adjusting themselves even though no one was touching them.
In the center was a flat black stone plate, just large enough for a hand. The machine hummed, not loudly, but in a way Eiden felt in his teeth.
He stared at it for a while and said, “That thing is going to explode.”
The boy standing beside him looked horrified. “Why would you say that?”
“Look at it,” Eiden said. “It has too many parts. Anything with that many parts has a higher change to explode.”
Mira stood beside the device. “This is a calibrated resonance array. You will place one hand on the central plate and release a controlled thread of mana into it. Don’t cast a spell. The array will measure primary affinity, secondary response, estimated mana capacity, control stability, and volatility risk.”
Eiden slowly raised his hand.
“No questions.” Mira said without looking at him.
Eiden lowered his hand. “That is discrimination against curious people.”
Mira continued. “If the array flashes red, remove your hand immediately. If it gives three chimes, step back. If the array shuts down, do not touch it again unless instructed.”
The first candidate was called forward. He was a thin boy with pale blond hair and nervous shoulders, walking like he was approaching a judge instead of a machine. He placed his palm on the central plate. The crystals glowed pale blue, then gray, and a panel of light appeared above the device.
Affinity Result
Primary: Air
Secondary Response: Water (Low)
Mana Capacity: 340
Control Stability: Moderate
Volatility Risk: Low
The boy exhaled so hard Eiden wondered if he had been holding his breath since registration.
“Next.” Mira said.
That was it.
The first stage began moving quickly after that. One candidate after another stepped up, placed their hand on the plate, received their result, and stepped down. Some looked relieved, some looked crushed.
One large man with a very heroic chin stepped onto the platform as if he expected the arena to applaud.
The crystals glowed weak brown.
Affinity Result
Primary: Earth
Mana Capacity: 190
Control Stability: Low
Volatility Risk: Moderate
The man stared at the panel, and Eiden could almost hear something inside him breaking.
“I can do better.” the man said.
“No.” Orin replied.
The man stepped down slowly.
Eiden liked Orin a little more after that. Not personally. More as a concept. A blunt weapon in human form.
Then came someone interesting.
A tall girl with copper-colored skin and a long dark braid walked to the platform without hesitation. She did not look nervous or excited. Her clothes were simple but reinforced at the elbows and knees, practical with no jewelry, no unnecessary decoration, and no attempt to look impressive.
That made her more impressive.
She placed her hand on the stone plate.
The crystals flared green-brown. The glow was strong enough that several candidates murmured, and the sand around the platform trembled as if something heavy had shifted under it.
Affinity Result
Primary: Metal
Secondary Response: Fire
Mana Capacity: 3000
Control Stability: High
Volatility Risk: Low
Mira’s eyebrows lifted slightly. Orin looked at the girl with real interest.
The girl removed her hand and stepped down without smiling.
Someone near Eiden whispered, “That’s Branna Holt. Quarry family. They say she can crack stone barehanded.”
Eiden watched her return to the side of the arena. Nobody blocked her path, and nobody tried to talk to her. People seemed to understand that getting in her way would be a bad idea.
Eiden blinked, genuinely thrown. “Three thousand mana? That’s… that’s not just high. That’s absurdly high.”
That was worth remembering.
He had not come to The Open Gate to make friends. Friends were nice, probably, but he had come here for something.
Power.
Knowledge.
And people.
The Swarm would not be stopped by one person throwing Fire Bolts. He needed useful people, strong people, dangerous people, people who would not shatter when the world turned ugly.
Branna Holt went into that list.
Maybe.
Then the girl from the written exam stepped forward.
Or rather, the crowd moved before she did.
People made space for her before she reached them. A dozen candidates stood near her. Some were the same people who had whispered thanks to her during the written exam, while others had joined since then.
Two girls near Eiden began whispering.
“That’s Nyra.”
“Nyra Kade?”
“Yeah. The dark one.”
“The dark one?”
“You didn’t hear? Her element is really rare—darkness. It runs in her family.”
Eiden’s gaze sharpened.
Nyra Kade. Darkness. Of course. Because apparently normal elements were for people with normal lives, and those people had already been teleported away.
Nyra stepped onto the platform. Mira watched her more carefully than most candidates, and Serren watched her even more carefully.
Nyra placed her hand on the stone plate.
Nothing happened for half a second. Then the light around the device dimmed. The crystals did not glow. They darkened from within, each one filling with black-violet haze. The glass tubes stopped bubbling, the brass rings slowed, and the hum of the device dropped into a deep note that Eiden felt in his ribs.
A few candidates stepped back.
A panel appeared, flickered, vanished, then appeared again.
Affinity Result
Primary: Darkness
Secondary Response: Unknown
Mana Capacity: 6300
Control Stability: High
Volatility Risk: Severe
Classification: Irregular
Whispers spread quickly.
Nyra removed her hand and looked at the result as if it bored her. Then her eyes shifted across the arena and found Eiden.
For one brief second, they looked directly at each other.
She smiled.
It was not friendly.
Eiden smiled back because he was not going to be the one who looked away first.
Yes, he thought. You are absolutely going to be a problem later.
Nyra stepped down, and her little group closed around her without touching her. Like a shadow remembering its shape.
Eiden filed her name away in a different part of his mind.
The line kept moving. Names were called, palms pressed to stone, and results flashed and vanished—an assembly of relief, disappointment, and quiet dread.
Then Mira’s voice cut cleanly through the noise.
“Eiden Flareheart.”
“That is me.”
The arena did not go silent, but many conversations died close enough to silence that it became obvious.
“Fire guy.” someone whispered.
“Fifty-point guy.” someone else said.
Eiden slowly turned his head.
The whisperer looked away.
He stepped toward the platform. His robe shifted around his legs, his boots sank slightly into the sand, and every eye on him made something warm and stupid rise in his chest.
He hated being watched.
He also enjoyed being watched.
Mira’s mouth twitched as if she refused to smile on principle. “Hand on the plate. Controlled thread of mana. Do not cast.”
Eiden stepped onto the platform.
Up close, the resonance array looked even more suspicious. The central stone plate had tiny scratches on it, along with burn marks and a few old cracks that had been filled with silver.
“Has this thing ever killed anyone?” Eiden asked.
“Hand on the plate.” Mira said.
“No?”
“Hand.”
“Fine.”
He placed his palm on the stone.
It was cold.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the device found him.
Eiden felt a thin pressure slide into his palm. It was not painful, but it was invasive, like the array had hooked one finger under his skin and tugged lightly at the mana beneath.
Suddenly he could feel the machine feeling him.
That was extremely unpleasant.
The array’s hum rose. Blue light ran through the grooves, then orange, then red, then gold.
Mira’s expression sharpened.
“Release less mana,” she said.
“I’m not releasing much.”
“Less.”
“I’m trying.”
The central plate grew warm under his hand. The crystals around the frame ignited one by one, each flaring with Fire-aspected light. The brass dials spun, and the colored vapor inside the glass tubes boiled red-orange.
A panel appeared.
Affinity Result
Primary: Fire
Secondary Response: Air (Low), Earth (Trace), Water (Trace)
Mana Capacity: 60
Control Stability: Unstable
Volatility Risk: Very High
Eiden looked at it.
“That seems rude but fair.”
Then the Fire line blinked.
Primary: Fire
It blinked again.
Primary: Fire — Recalibrating
The device hummed louder.
Serren took one step forward.
“Eiden,” Mira said. “Remove your hand.”
“I’m trying.”
He was. His hand did not move, not because the machine held him physically, but because the mana inside him had answered before he gave it permission. The array was no longer pulling on a thread.
It was pulling on a door.
The panel flashed.
Fire Affinity: Exceeds Calibration Range
Recalibrating
Recalibrating
Recalibrating
Eiden stared at the words.
“Oh.” he said.
Every crystal on the frame turned white-orange.
“Barrier!” Mira shouted.
The platform released everything it had measured.
Fire erupted upward.
It was not a Fire Bolt. It was not a spell. It was a column. A roaring pillar of flame burst from the array and shot into the sky, wide enough to swallow the platform and tall enough to reach toward the upper rim of the arena. Heat slammed outward in a wave. Candidates screamed and stumbled back. The sand around the platform turned glassy in an instant.
Eiden stood at the center with his hand still on the plate and had exactly one thought.
This is not helping my reputation.
Mira moved first. Water exploded from the air around her, twisting into a spiral wall that wrapped the base of the flame and stopped it from spreading outward.
Orin slammed one foot into the sand. Stone plates shot up in a ring, locking around the platform like the teeth of a giant trap. The air pressure dropped so suddenly Eiden’s ears popped, and the fire narrowed instead of blooming.
Serren raised both hands. The light dimmed, and a black-silver web spread over the column of flame, not extinguishing it, but pressing it inward and forcing the runaway output into a shape the arena could survive.
For three seconds, the three instructors held the fire together. Mira’s water hissed into steam, Orin’s stone cracked red, and Serren’s silver-dark net trembled; then Mira twisted her wrist, and the flame shot straight upward in a controlled lance before bursting high above the arena in a silent flower of orange light.
Heat washed over the seats.
Nobody burned.
Nobody died.
The array stopped screaming, smoke curled from the platform, and Eiden finally managed to pull his hand away.
The panel above the device flickered like it wanted to resign.
Affinity Result
Primary: Fire
Fire Affinity: ERROR
Measured Value: OUT OF RANGE
Secondary Response: Air (Low), Earth (Trace), Water (Trace)
Mana Capacity: 60
Control Stability: Unstable
Volatility Risk: Extreme
Classification: Irregular Fire-Type
Silence fell over the arena. Complete silence. Even the people who had been making jokes earlier did not breathe loudly.
Eiden looked at the panel, then at Mira, then at the smoking device.
“So,” he said carefully, “do I pay for that now, or does the school have insurance?”
Whispers hit the arena like rain.
“What was that?”
“Fire out of range?”
“Did the array fail?”
“No, he failed the array.”
“Is that good?”
Eiden stepped off the platform, trying very hard to walk as if his knees weren’t considering giving up on him.
Mira caught his sleeve before he could fully leave.
Her voice was low. “Did you try to cast?”
“No.”
“Did you intentionally push mana into the array?”
“No.”
“Did you lose control?”
Eiden opened his mouth, closed it, and then said, “Define lose.”
Mira’s eyes narrowed.
Serren approached the platform and inspected the cracked crystals. “The array pulled a full affinity response instead of a thread response. It interpreted him as incomplete data and tried to widen the channel.”
Orin looked at Eiden. “And he let it.”
“I did not let anything,” Eiden said. “The machine grabbed my mana.”
Serren glanced at him. “That is not entirely inaccurate.”
Eiden pointed at Serren. “Thank you. Finally, a professional.”
Mira released his sleeve. “You passed the measurement.”
“I did? Good job me!”
He returned to the candidate line.
People moved out of his way, not politely like they did for Nyra, but more like he might explode any second.
Nyra Kade was watching him again. Her followers whispered behind her, eyes bright with fear and interest. Nyra did not look afraid, and that bothered him more than if she had. She looked pleased, like some private suspicion had just been confirmed.
The remaining measurements continued, but the mood had changed. Nobody joked about low scores anymore.
Eventually, the last candidate stepped down.
Mira looked over the remaining list. “Affinity measurement complete. If you were flagged for volatility, you are not disqualified. But any uncontrolled casting in the next stage will end your assessment immediately.”
Several people looked at Eiden.
Eiden looked behind him, found nobody there, and slowly turned back toward Mira.
Mira let the silence sit for a few seconds before she raised her hand again. “The Open Gate practical assessment is now complete.”
For a moment, no one seemed to understand what she had said. The candidates looked at one another, confused, as if they had been bracing themselves for another stage and the floor had suddenly disappeared beneath that expectation.
Eiden blinked. “Wait. That’s it?”
Orin looked at him. “Were you hoping for more?”
“No,” Eiden said immediately. “I just expected someone to throw a monster at us, or make us fight each other.”
“That part comes later.” Orin said.
Eiden stared at him.
Mira ignored both of them and unfolded a thin sheet of silver paper that had appeared in her hand. “Out of the candidates who remained after the written examination, fifty four have passed the practical assessment and earned provisional entry into The Open Gate. Those who failed today are not permanently rejected. A remedial examination will be held one week from now. If you choose to return, use that week well.”
The reaction was immediate. Some people collapsed to their knees in relief. Others stood frozen, unable to understand whether they had failed or simply been given another chance to suffer later. A few began crying, which made Eiden’s eye twitch before he forced himself to look somewhere else.
Eiden exhaled slowly. He had passed.
Mira began calling names. One by one, the successful candidates stepped forward and received a small silver badge from Serren. The badge was shaped like an open gate, two narrow doors parted around a single vertical flame. It was simple, but the metal held a soft inner glow that made it look more important than its size suggested.
When Eiden’s name was called, a few people turned to look at him again.
He walked forward and stopped in front of Serren. Up close, the badge looked even more delicate, with tiny lines carved into the silver like a spell circle disguised as decoration.
Serren placed it in his palm. “This is your entry symbol. Do not lose it.”
“Does it track me?”
“Yes.”
Eiden looked up. He hadn't expected that answer.
Serren’s face remained calm. “Only inside academy grounds.”
“That is not as comforting as you think it is.”
Eiden sighed and pinned the badge to the front of his robe. The silver gate sat over his chest, cool against the fabric, and for a strange second he felt something in it answer the mana inside him. Not strongly. Just a faint pulse, like the badge had noticed him and decided to remember his shape.
After the last badge was given, Mira stepped back to the center of the arena. The failed candidates had already begun disappearing in groups, sent away by the same pale light that had removed people after the written exam. They had a week. A chance. Some looked ashamed, some angry, and some determined enough that Eiden thought they might actually come back stronger.
When only the fifty successful candidates remained, Mira lifted her own silver badge. “Place one hand over your entry symbol and send mana into it. Do not force it. Let the symbol open the path.”
Eiden looked down at the badge on his chest.
“Open the path.” he muttered.
He sent a thread of mana into it.
The badge responded instantly. A circle of silver light spread from his chest to his shoulders, down his arms, around his waist, and then beneath his feet. The arena blurred. The sand lost its color. The noise of the remaining candidates stretched into a long, thin sound, and for one terrifying heartbeat Eiden felt as if the world had become a page being turned.
Then the arena vanished.
His boots touched stone.
Eiden staggered one step and tried to grab the air. Around him, other candidates appeared in flashes of silver light.
They stood on a vast white-stone terrace at the edge of a campus so large that Eiden’s mind needed a moment to accept it as a place built by people and not carved out of a dream. Wide roads of polished stone stretched between gardens, fountains, training fields, towers, bridges, and long glass-roofed halls. Streams of clear water cut through the grounds in perfect curves, reflecting banners of silver and blue that moved gently in the wind.
Far ahead, beyond all of it, rose the main building.
Calling it a building felt insulting.
It was a palace, a fortress, a temple, and a city gate all at once. Massive white walls climbed toward the sky in layered terraces, each level lined with tall windows that shone like pieces of captured sunlight. Towers rose from its corners, elegant and sharp, wrapped in silver patterns that pulsed faintly with mana. At the center, two enormous doors stood open beneath an arch shaped like the same symbol on their badges: an open gate with a flame between its wings.
The structure was beautiful in a way that made Eiden feel small.
Around him, the other successful candidates fell silent.
Mira, Orin, and Serren appeared in front of them a moment later.
Mira turned toward the fifty candidates and spoke with a calm voice that somehow carried across the terrace, the gardens, and the open space between them and that impossible building.
“Welcome to The Open Gate.”
Eiden looked at the shining campus, the distant towers, the giant doors, and the silver badge resting against his chest.
So this was where they would study.
This was where he was supposed to become stronger.
He let out a slow breath and smiled despite himself.
“Well,” he muttered, “at least the school looks rich enough to survive me.”