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Chapter 95 - ACADEMY TRIALS

Chapter 95

ACADEMY TRIALS 

Two weeks later.

An endless stream of people flowed toward a massive gate—tall, black, and unwavering. It loomed like an ancient sentinel, its presence unshakable. There was no excessive design carved into its face. No decorative engravings or intricate artwork—only steel, bolts, and a quiet dominance. A gate that would separate the fortunate from the forgotten.

It was brutally honest in its purpose.

As the sun drummed down upon Hope, rays of heat shimmered on the concrete, bouncing off the gate's dark frame. The sky, it's drums, a blinding blue, hung motionless overhead, with only a few lazy clouds drifting across it like thoughts. 

A gentle wind tugged at clothes and hair, though it could do nothing to ease the tension pressing into the bones of those gathered outside the gate.

The air buzzed with sound. Chatter, weeping, and laughter that seemed too nervous to be genuine—all mixed into a tense orchestra of emotion. 

Families huddled in clusters. Some held each other tightly, murmuring prayers or giving parting words. Others stood in silence, staring with dry eyes but clenched jaws. Couples shared quiet moments, clinging to one another like it was the last time. Friends gave hard slaps on the back and tried to smile.

Some people wept openly, tears pouring down in bitter streams. Others laughed nervously, cracking jokes to ease the tension that suffocated the air. Some were silent, simply staring at the black gate as if it would devour them whole.

And still… one by one… they stepped through.

All of them—regardless of what emotion they showed—knew that they were about to take a step that might forever change the course of their lives.

They came in all shapes and colors, in all manners of dress. Some wore polished shoes and clean uniforms, while others donned tattered sneakers or plain shirts with fraying collars. A few wore jewelry or fashionable clothes, flexing their wealth. Others had faces that spoke of long years of struggle, of saving every coin for this one opportunity. Others still carried the softness of youth in their eyes.

But regardless of their appearance, none were younger than seventeen. None older than twenty-three. This age range was strictly enforced, and those who missed it would be forced to wait for another year—or never get another chance. This was their window, and they were walking into it willingly, stepping into uncertainty with their heads held high.

They had all come here for the same reason.

These were the applicants of HOPE ACADEMY, one of the most prestigious institutions in the country.

And this was the beginning of the Academy Trials.

The same scene played out all across the nation, at other major academies scattered throughout sectors. At every gate, similar crowds were gathering, similar families were parting, and similar fates were hanging in the balance.

Every major academy within Hope was now preparing to welcome—or reject—the next generation.

But here, at Hope Academy, things felt heavier. The weight of expectation pressed harder. The scale of the trial was overwhelming, the competition unmatched. It was no secret that among all the academies, Hope carried a reputation as one of the best—and one of the harshest.

The structure of the trials was simple in theory. There were two groups: those who had already formed an avien, and those who had not.

The former walked into their trial with the ability to manipulate mana. They had already begun walking the path of the ascender, their bodies and minds trained in channeling the energy of the world through their understanding.

The latter—those without an avien—were on the outside looking in. They had no power yet. But they had hope, determination, and raw potential.

The general public knew bits and pieces about ascenders. They were aware of path manuals, most even knew that reading a manual could grant you the ability to become an ascender. But they didn't know how or why. 

Because there were only a few legal and recognized ways to become an ascender.

The first was the most infamous—war.

When the military needed more bodies or more fighters, they would turn to the desperate corners of the world. The slums.

 Igniting dreams and hopes in millions.

But beyond that, they were blind. They didn't know what forming an avien entailed. They didn't understand the nature of paths, or the terrifying consequences of failure. The mechanics were shrouded in mystery—guarded knowledge kept hidden from the masses.

Recruitment drives would be launched—aggressive, enticing. People like IAM and countless others had been pulled in this way. Promises of power, of transformation, of glory… all wrapped up in the quiet truth: they would be used.

This method, though technically legal, was laced with danger. Most people with sense avoided it. War was not only a battlefield—it was a graveyard for the hopeful.

The second path was through academies like this one.

Here, the process was more dignified. You signed up for the trials. You trained. You prepared your body to its limits. And then… you stepped through the gate.

If you passed the trials, the academy would grant you access to power. You'd be given a path manual, taught how to form an avien, and allowed to begin your journey.

This created a very specific kind of balance in an academy .

Those who had already formed an avien often had a head start in path understanding. They could channel their concepts and were closer to climbing levels. But those who had not yet formed an avien—if they passed the trial—tended to have greater physical conditioning and raw combat skill, since that's all they could rely on before gaining power.

This led to interesting dynamics. In early academy stages, the non-avien entrants could sometimes overpower their peers in physical trials, even though they were technically behind in their path journey.

Then there was the third path—an unofficial, and yet very real way to become an ascender.

Connections.

If you had enough wealth, status, or access to government circles or even people in an academy, you could acquire a path manual directly. You could bypass the chaos of war and the hardship of academy trials. You could become an ascender privately, and even pass that manual down to your children.

Knowledge, after all, was inheritable.

There were families in this world where every member was an ascender. Not because of bloodlines or genetics, but because of resources and influence.

Still, despite this unofficial third method, the country had stuff like royalty or noble bloodlines.

There were no kings or queens. No dukes or barons.

There was only power—and the money to maintain it.

Now, hundreds of thousands of people moved toward the gates of Hope Academy. As the black gates continued to absorb wave after wave of trial participants, the families outside began to fade. The air grew heavier. Soon, only the hopeful—or the doomed—would remain within. 

Each of them had dreams—some grand, some desperate.

Some sought revenge. Some sought redemption. Others simply sought to rise above poverty. 

Inside those black gates, the Academy Trials waited.

A crucible that would separate the brave from the weak, the ready from the unworthy.

A place where failure would crush your future… but where success would change your life.

Success… or demise.

The outcome rested in a delicate balance.

And that balance… was about to be tested.

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