Stone walls climbed higher than any classroom ceiling, patched with moss and pale ivy, their damp scent clinging to the throat. The air pooled heavy in the corridors, tasting faintly of rust and rainwater. Somewhere far above, shafts of sunlight pierced cracked ceilings like lazy spotlights that refused to reach the ground.
It was quiet—too quiet. Every distant scrape of boots on gravel echoed like a heartbeat in a tomb.
John pressed a palm against the cold stone. No glyphs. No runes. Not even a whisper of the wards that normally hummed through academy halls. His grimoire rested useless at his hip, no more dangerous than a brick.
The Academy's rule drilled into every student's mind repeated like a drum:
> Spellcasting is strictly forbidden. Violators will be removed and barred from examinations for three years.
He dragged in a slow breath, tasting dust. "Guess we really are doing this the hard way."
---
Everyday Struggle in Stone
The first "obstacle" looked deceptively mundane—a rickety wooden bridge stretching across a chasm that devoured the torchlight. The boards bent under John's weight, creaking like old bones, sifting centuries of dust into the void. The darkness below yawned forever.
Kinru, stepping out from a side corridor with a grin, tapped a plank with his boot. "Don't look down," he teased, wobbling theatrically.
Don't look down. John repeated the mantra as he shuffled across, knees taut, the faint sway of the bridge matching the uneasy thrum in his chest. Every step felt like balancing on excuses in front of a strict professor—one wrong word, one wrong move, and you plummet.
On the far side, the maze offered no comfort: a skeletal stairwell missing every other step. They climbed by hauling themselves upward, palms scraping over stone edges, calves screaming.
Hush's dry voice floated up from below. "Nothing says 'Mage Academy' like pretending to be a mountain goat."
They laughed, breathless. The laughter wasn't mirth—it was survival, a small rebellion against fatigue.
The labyrinth demanded humility in petty ways. A corridor blocked by splintered beams forced them to heave debris together, lungs rasping in the damp air. Another path dribbled ankle-deep water, ice-cold, numbing toes as they trudged through. A crawlspace narrowed so tightly they scraped elbows raw, dust choking the throat with each drag forward.
This isn't a trial, John realized, sweat stinging his eyes. This is life condensed: messy, irritating, relentless.
---
Temptation and Penalty
A roar of mana shattered the uneasy quiet. Far down a branching hallway, a desperate student etched a glowing fire rune, chasing an easy exit.
The glyph flashed—and the labyrinth answered.
A deep gong reverberated through the stone. Blue light wrapped the caster like a vice and snapped him out of existence, leaving only a scorched wall and a cold verdict hanging midair:
> Penalty: Immediate Removal. Reason: Disqualified.
Kinru swallowed hard. "Wow. Brutal. That wasn't even a full spell."
"Better brutal than tolerating," Hush muttered, eyes narrowing.
Another spark flared minutes later, lightning this time, frantic. Same gong. Same blue blaze. Same empty hall. By the hour's end, five students had been erased from the trial, and the silence that followed pressed heavier, like the maze itself was scowling.
John flexed his fingers, forcing calm. One spark and it's over. No shortcuts. Just move.
---
Meeting of Three
Sweat slicked their necks by the midpoint, every breath scraping ragged in the throat. Finding one another brought a strange, quiet strength.
Kinru offered a crooked grin. "Who knew cardio would be our deadliest enemy?"
Hush steadied a trembling torch, lips quirking. "Focus. Laugh later."
Side by side, they braced a tottering ladder against a crumbling wall, boosted each other over jagged rises, shared crumbs of stale biscuits Kinru had "borrowed" from breakfast. In the monotony, camaraderie stitched tighter than any victory in spell combat.
---
The Seal and the Oath
Hours later, the labyrinth spilled them into a circular hall. Runes pulsed faintly on the floor, dormant yet humming like a heartbeat beneath stone. Survivors—Karl and his allies among them—stood shoulder to shoulder.
A robed official glided forward, silver trays of seals hovering at his side. Each examinee pressed a palm to the glowing disc. Sigils crawled up their arms like living ink before fading, leaving only a phantom warmth.
The Headmaster's voice unfurled like thunder:
> "Before you return, swear your bond.
First—cast no magic unless veiled from mortal sight.
Second—temper your power; overcasting spawns chaos, birthing dungeons anew.
Third—stand not as an idol; blend, protect, and guard against those who'd topple the balance.
Fourth—trust your allies. We are your first bastion if darkness seeks you.
Fifth—know there are hidden cities, ungoverned and uncharted. Approach with respect, preserve harmony with humankind.
And last—revere the nameless one. His shadow birthed this sanctuary. His visage remains unseen, yet peace endures by his unseen hand."
Every voice rose in unison, repeating the pledge. Mana trembled, weaving their words into invisible chains. John felt centuries settle against his spine. This isn't a ritual. This is duty.
---
Back to the World
The Headmaster lifted his staff. "This is the final test before you return to the world!"
Light bled across the hall. Kinru vanished mid-grin. John's body tingled, vision dissolving into radiance. A heartbeat before the pull consumed him, he caught Hush's silhouette—still solid, still silent.
Then—moonlight. Cool grass. Familiar fields under a waning gibbous. Three nights had slipped away.
John collapsed, whispering, "Finally… home." Exhaustion dragged him into dreamless dark.
---
Karl's Boast
Morning spilled like molten gold over rooftops. John trudged into the plaza, the ache of the trial still buried in his muscles. Jaz waved, relief bright in her tired eyes. Beside her, the child she called Boss perched on a crate, posture regal, gaze deep as midnight.
Karl stood nearby, posture loose but swagger sharp, mana leaking like scented smoke. "Gather, friends! Why crawl in shadows? Power deserves a stage!" His voice drew side-eyes from bystanders.
Boss's gaze stayed level, calm—a tide meeting a storm. "You flaunt too loud," the child murmured. "The wise hide the storm."
Karl chuckled, delighted by the pushback. "You are strong yourself, aren't you? Then let me show you how storms are made. John, how about a friendly bout? Let them see."
John squared his shoulders. Of course Karl wants an audience.
The plaza hushed, tension sharpening the morning air.
Jaz moved first, slapping a hand over Karl's mouth. Her whisper cut like a knife. "That's not how you challenge someone, dumbass. Keep it down." Her eyes swept the crowd. "Boss, can you shut off this babbler?"
Boss folded his arms, unmoved. "Let John do it."
John blinked. "Why me?"
Karl grinned, peeling her hand away. "Let's go then. The graveyard at the other block should be safe enough."
Another challenge waited, coiling beneath the morning sun.