A week passed in silence. No messages. No warnings. And then an alert.
The Trials were beginning.
They were loaded and transported just after dawn, driven across the country without a word, and then eventually told to put blindfolds on.
The last thing Ruben saw was the pale streak of morning light across Corbin's cheek before it disappeared behind fabric.
Now, he stood on solid ground again, breath visible in the cold.
The blindfold had been taken off minutes earlier, and his eyes were still adjusting. They were in some kind of underground hall, stone walls, narrow metal support beams, a roof that arched low like the inside of a hollowed-out tunnel. It was dim, but not dark enough to hide the shapes around them.
Thin orange lights lined the upper edges of the ceiling, casting a weak glow over the crowd.
The air had a bite to it. Damp, clean, quiet.
Around him were others, dozens of them. Some shifting restlessly, some standing still, others talking in low voices or simply watching everything.
Sixty candidates. That's what they'd been told. And not one of them familiar.
A girl with braided silver hair and faded denim sleeves pulled over her hands leaned against the wall, chewing something and not looking at anyone. A tall boy with burn scars along the left side of his face bounced on the heels of his feet, a long iron chain wrapped around his torso like a makeshift harness.
Another candidate, slight in frame with skin so pale it looked like marble, sat with eyes closed, lips moving in silence like he was rehearsing something under his breath.
There were others. A guy with a hoodie zipped to the top of his nose, a girl in a long velvet coat with mirrored sunglasses, and someone with hair cropped unevenly down the middle like they'd done it themselves without a mirror.
Corbin stood next to Ruben, arms crossed tightly. He hadn't said a word since they were un-blindfolded.
Ruben looked sideways at him.
"You nervous?"
Corbin didn't look at him. "No."
The answer was quick and sharp. Ruben hesitated, then spoke again. "I am. We don't even know what we're doing. No instructions. We're just here."
Corbin didn't answer, but his jaw shifted.
"All Dario said was that it changes every year. Even the location's different. Two trials at the same time, across the country. That's all anyone will tell you."
"And the waiver," Corbin added, his voice unusually flat.
"Yeah." Ruben echoed, letting out a breath. "The death waiver."
He rubbed at the back of his neck. His fingers were cold. They'd signed it without ceremony, just a line of text on a touchscreen saying You understand that death is a possibility and absolve all institutions of responsibility.
There wasn't anything else.
Ruben glanced around again. He couldn't shake the feeling that someone was too close behind him, but when he turned, the space looked the same. Just the same bodies and a quiet empty space in between.
And then…
Something.
A scent. It caught in the back of his mind like a thread snagging on a nail. Familiar, but buried under too much noise. Soap, sweat, air from too many lungs. Still, it was there.
He didn't know who it belonged to.
Before he could think more about it, the door at the far end of the room opened with a hydraulic hiss.
Someone walked in.
No footsteps. Just presence.
The woman who entered wasn't dressed like the others. Where most wore the training uniform from their institutes or their normal clothes, she was in a formal black outfit. Sleek, double-breasted, pressed. A white cape hung from her shoulders, trailing almost to her calves. The fabric looked heavy, but it didn't slow her down. Three gold stars sat stitched just above her left breast pocket. The same three shimmered on the back of her cape near the shoulders.
Her features were defined. Sharp cheekbones, a narrow nose, and long dark green hair tied back in a twist that swept down her back. Her eyes were green too, a lighter shade, almost pale.
She didn't smile. Didn't pause.
She stepped into the middle of the room and looked around at the gathered crowd with calm interest.
The noise died immediately.
When she spoke, her voice was smooth and soft, not loud but clear enough that no one had to lean in.
"Welcome to the Paladin Trials."
No one moved.
She let the silence sit before continuing.
"My name is Elea Mourad. I am a Gold Rank Paladin and will be your primary overseer for this trial."
Her eyes passed slowly over the group. They didn't linger on anyone in particular. Just a sweep, even and measured.
"There are sixty of you in this location. Another sixty in your sister site. The trials will begin shortly."
She didn't raise her voice, didn't shift her tone. And yet, everything about her demanded attention.
Ruben felt it settle in his chest. The air was thinner, but also had a sharp quality to it.
He glanced once more at Corbin, who hadn't taken his eyes off Elea since she entered.
The woman standing before them, Elea Mourad, was easily the most composed person in the room. Every part of her presence was intentional. Her posture was straight without looking stiff. She stood with one foot slightly forward, as if the floor itself had adjusted to her. Her uniform was perfectly pressed, the lines crisp, the fabric dense enough to suggest weight, but never bulky. The deep black coat curved cleanly around her frame, offset only by the white cape that draped from her shoulders down to her calves. Even the gold stars stitched onto her breast and cape looked less like symbols of rank and more like fixed points in some larger constellation.
Her hair, a dark green so deep it might have passed for black in dimmer light, was swept into a low, twisted tail that rested along her back. A single silver clasp held it in place. Her eyes, a lighter shade of the same colour, were clear and cold, not unfriendly, just unreadable. Her skin was pale, her features elegant, with a strong jawline and narrow nose that made her look like she belonged in a museum painting more than as a fighter.
She paused only a moment before continuing.
"Before we begin the trial proper, I will outline the Paladin rankings system so that you all keep it in mind in case you have never learned of it. It is not a measure of strength alone, nor is it a ladder of raw combat ability. It is a progression of responsibility, competency, and contribution."
A few heads in the crowd tilted with interest.
"Those who pass today will begin as Junior Rank Paladins. From there, each of you will be assigned a mentor. After one month of observation and fieldwork, your mentor will submit a report. If deemed fit, you will rise to Bronze rank."
Ruben listened, arms crossed lightly over his chest. The explanation so far made sense. Clear steps.
"To go from Bronze to Silver," she went on, "you must complete a minimum of one hundred Phantasm executions, or something of equivalent significance as determined by the Bureau of Paranormal Affairs."
A low murmur passed through the group. One hundred was no small number.
"And to rise from Silver to Gold," she said, "you must mentor another Paladin and see them successfully promoted. That final step is where many like to stop. Not because it's difficult, though it is, but because many do not see the value in mentorship."
Ruben felt her eyes pass over the crowd again, steady and observant.
He shifted his weight slightly and glanced at Corbin, who hadn't reacted much. But Ruben knew him well enough now. Corbin wasn't the mentoring type, neither of them were, but more people had even admitted to them that they were quicker to approach Ruben than Corbin because of his constant scowl.
Corbin was impatient. Quick to go at it alone. Ruben held no judgement, he just knew that it could prove to be a hurdle and he may be too selective in the process when he gets there.
He turned back his attention to Elea.
He didn't care about the rankings much himself. Not really. But as she outlined the system, he found himself thinking it was… fair. Structured, at least. You couldn't buy your way to the top. And your Ego wasn't the center of it all. If anything, it seemed to reward consistency more than potential.
That, he could respect. And he guessed that there was no need to explain Paladin. That one solely depended on your Ego and how threatening you can be. Some people described them as being living nukes, and others detailed them as the closest things to world-ending threats.
"Now," Elea said, her voice still smooth, "I'll explain the concept of Edge."
Several in the crowd shifted, including Ruben. The word didn't seem unfamiliar to some. Neither Ruben or Corbin had heard it before.
"Edge is a measure of natural Power," she said, "like, both potential and performance. It is the sharpening of who you and your Ego are, through will, discipline and control."
She paused, then lifted a hand slightly as if to frame the idea in the air.
"In another way of thinking, think of your Ego as a knife, and your Edge is you sharpening it to make your Ego easier to use and more potent. Other than that it boosts your natural reflexes, not to a great extent like a Strongman, more so to adapt to your Ego."
Ruben's eyes narrowed. The metaphor made sense. To have a greater effect with your Ego, you need to sharpen and refine it.
"Edge is measured on a scale from one to one-hundred percent," she continued. "And while it grows with time and focus, it does not grow without intention."
A quiet stillness followed her words.
Then she gestured to the back of the room, where two wide metallic doors stood sealed. "Behind these doors is your first evaluation. You will step onto a device we call the CUBE. It will measure your Edge and provide a reading. You will each enter a pod and undergo the scan individually."
Someone toward the center raised a hand. A girl in a dark red jacket with angular facial tattoos.
"What's the highest number anyone's gotten before?"
There was no sarcasm in her voice. Just genuine intrigue.
Elea didn't smile, but her head did dip slightly, as if she had been expecting the question.
"The record is held by Dario Kosta. Ninety-six percent. No one has reached higher in the history of this nation."
Ruben felt his mouth tighten at the name. Of course it was him.
He turned and caught Corbin just at the edge of his vision. His friend's shoulders were shaking, not from nerves, he knew him well enough to tell it was excitement. A faint tremor ran through him, subtle but unmistakable. He was feeding on the moment. Ruben knew that look.
Elea took a small step back.
"You'll go in through the doors behind me. There is a pod for each of you. Step inside and onto the CUBE platform. It will give you your Edge reading and document your data."
"Let's go."
The doors hissed open.
Ruben stood still for a moment as bodies started to move. No one rushed, but there was a kind of anxious energy in the air, controlled but building.
He glanced at Corbin. "Let's go."
Corbin didn't answer. Just walked forward, head held high.
Ruben followed, blending into the flow. The chamber beyond the doors was wider than he expected. Smooth grey walls, dim ceiling lights, rows of pods lined up against both sides like a hanger. Each one stood open, bathed in soft blue light.
He stepped into the nearest empty one. The inside was quiet, the air faintly cool, the floor smooth beneath his shoes.
At the center of the pod sat the CUBE, small, square, and dark grey with soft circular grooves around its edges. It looked plain. Ordinary.
Ruben stepped forward and onto it.
He stood still. Hands at his sides.
The pod sealed around him with a gentle hiss. Ruben stood still on the CUBE, its surface humming beneath his shoes. A faint blue light scanned up his body from the base, cycling once, then again. The walls of the pod didn't close all the way, he could still see the faint outlines of movement beyond the glass, but in that moment, it felt like a different room. Smaller. Quieter. Detached from everything else.
In front of him, a black rectangular screen lit up, numbers rolling across in flickering sequences.
At first, they shifted too fast to read.
He stood watching them roll, not quite anxious, just suspended.
EDGE.
The word repeated in his mind, curling inward.
He thought back to the way Elea had explained it. He felt that it was just another measure to separate normal people from Ego users. Even someone with a non combative power like Ana would more than likely always be physically stronger than even a higher than average athlete if she put the same amount of effort in.
As the numbers on the screen continued to flicker, Elea's voice came through the speaker above. Calm and clear, like she was standing right beside them.
"To raise your EDGE, one must use their Ego consistently. Its a measure not just of potential but of refinement. Use leads to clarity, clarity leads to mastery. However, mastery is not quick."
She paused for a beat.
"I have been a Paladin for fifteen years. My EDGE is currently at fifty-six percent."
The speaker went silent. Fifteen years and only 56 percent. That meant the scale wasn't linear. Growth didn't come with time alone. Elea went on to explain that the closer you were to the top the slower it went.
The numbers on the screen began to slow.
Then they froze.
Thirteen percent.
Ruben let the number sit there. It wasn't high. Definitely not. But from Elea's explanation, it meant that there wouldn't be any high numbers. So he didn't really feel bad or lesser in any way.
He thought about the fact that to some he would still be considered a newly awakened since he only gained his Ego two years ago.
But then again he hasn't compared it to anybody yet, so this may even be a good score for where he was.
As he exited the pod, Elea's voice returned, this time echoing through the larger space beyond.
"Your readings are now documented. Please line up in pairs and proceed through the set of doors behind me. You will be split into different groups for the remainder of the first phase."
Ruben spotted Corbin waiting near one of the doors. He walked over to him, slipping back into step beside him naturally. The other candidates were pairing up too, finding partners through silent looks or wordless nods.
Corbin was staring toward the two doors ahead. There were no markings on them, just a slow pulse of white light above each frame.
"I think this is where we split," Corbin said, his voice low.
Ruben nodded. "Yeah. Looks like it."
The thought came and went, we won't be able to help each other now. It echoed against the memory of that first day out in Branneth. Where they fought against those two Paladin that tried to apprehend them… Felix and Elise. And Ruben had helped Corbin only to come back to him feeling dejected. He can now show his own capabilities from all he's learned on his own.
Ruben looked at him. "We'll be fine on our own."
Corbin didn't say anything, then he gave a nod, eyes still on the door.
"I got thirteen percent," Ruben said suddenly.
Corbin turned to him with a frown. "You shouldn't say stuff like that out loud."
"Why not?"
"Because it's yours. It's not just a score. It's information that anyone here can use against you."
Ruben shrugged. "It really doesn't matter. You take things too seriously."
Corbin rolled his eyes but said nothing. After a pause, he added. "Mine's twenty."
Ruben's eyebrows lifted. "That's… kind of a gap."
Corbin scoffed, "You barely train. I'm not surprised."
He said it without any venom. Just matter-of-fact.
"I mean," he continued, "I'm a little disappointed. Thought it would be higher. But after what she said, about how it gets slower the more it climbs, I guess twenty is decent."
Ruben tilted his head. "You've been using your Ego almost daily since you got it."
"Exactly. That's the difference."
They both went quiet again, following the slow movement of the crowd as everyone began lining up. Some candidates stood close together, others looked detached, but there was an undercurrent of tension threading through all of them now.
As they neared the doors, the space between them stretched. Ruben stood at the threshold of one. Corbin at the other.
"Good luck," Ruben said, quietly.
Corbin didn't look over. Just gave a smug half-smile. "Save it for yourself."
And then the doors opened.
They disappeared through separate thresholds.
And the trial began.