Chapter 96
ACADEMY TRIALS (2)
As the last few participants stepped past the towering gate, a heavy, metallic clang resounded behind them, sealing shut the only path back. The sound reverberated through the air and down into their bones, a harsh signal that the outside world—along with their families, comforts, and safety—was now completely sealed off.
There were around three hundred thousand participants — a staggering number that truly reflected the immense scale of the academy grounds. Hope Academy was more than a school—it was a fortress, a city of its own, a structured behemoth of trials, and ambition. From where the participants now stood—the back perimeter of the academy grounds—they could barely glimpse the true majesty of the institution that loomed ahead. But even this partial view was enough to leave many breathless.
The applicants had entered through a separate gate at the rear, ushered into the lesser-known side of the academy — if anything in a place so massive could be called lesser. In the near distance, the rear face of the academy building rose into view, partially obscured by the surrounding forest and terrain. The structure was massive, with sleek, towering walls of deep black and blood-red steel. Delicate white etchings traced the edges of some buildings.
The building's design was geometric and bold, almost militaristic in its symmetry.
Subtle panels embedded in the outer walls pulsed faintly, indicating energy sources beneath. Security cameras, sleek and embedded, followed movement with the quiet precision of a well-oiled machine.
The dormitories could be seen far off to the side, several buildings clustered together, each with sharp rectangular shapes and flat, tiled roofs. They were built in the same black, red, and white palette as the main structure. The dorms were minimalistic but clean, like miniature strongholds. Their windows were tinted to block intense light, and behind each one were rooms where future ascenders would live, sleep, train, and prepare for the unpredictable days ahead.
Everything was practical. Nothing was wasteful or decorative. It was not built to impress—it was built to test.
Even then, it was undeniably beautiful.
Still, this wasn't the front of the academy. And yet, even standing in its shadow, there was a rush — a jolt of blood to the head. The sheer scale. The aura. The excitement that pulsed in their veins wasn't just hope, but something more primal. A surge of survival instinct. Because here, dreams and nightmares walked the same halls.
Though they stood silent now, these dorms would eventually be filled with those who succeeded—the rare few among the hundreds of thousands.
The staggering number of applicants was, in fact, reduced from what it could have been. Many who lacked the confidence or ability to survive these elite trials had chosen other paths — easier, more passable academies elsewhere in Hope. The people who had come here were the ones most confident in their abilities—individuals who had either cultivated incredible physical strength, combat skill, or talent. Geniuses. Or those who believed they were.
And yet, despite all that culling, the field was still massive. The trials had to be organized with efficiency.
Those who had already formed their avien, would be separated from those who had not. These two groups would undergo entirely different sets of trials, fitting their current level of progression.
And because of the sheer volume of examinees, the academy had arranged three waves of trials per day: morning, afternoon, and evening. Each batch would face their trial separately, with instructors rotating out like units on a battlefield. Today marked the beginning of the first batch — the morning shift.
You could fail the trial at any moment and be escorted out on the spot. That was the best-case scenario. In rare cases... Your body might be dragged out cold and limp. A silent warning to others. This was The hope academy and it would be built on corpses if it had to.
This entire process would repeat for a full week. Those who passed the initial trial phase during that week would be granted two days of recovery — time to collect themselves, to reflect. Then they would return for a final trial. Only those who passed both would be given the right to call themselves students of Hope academy.
They'd receive one week to prepare before moving into their dormitories and beginning their education as one of the chosen few.
It sounded so simple on the surface. Two trials. Pass them both, and the gates of one of the most prestigious institutions in the country would open. Power, recognition, status — it all lay on the other side.
But that simplicity was a cruel illusion.
Of the 300,000 that had entered, only 80,000 had successfully formed an avien. That alone was telling — only a minority had access to path manuals. The rest, those who had yet to form one, were guided off into a different part of the forest. A separate path, a separate test.
The remaining 80,000 stood, tense and watchful, as instructors stepped forward to greet them. These instructors were not grand or flashy. They wore simple black trousers or skirts and crisp, short-sleeved shirts. Upon the left breast pocket of each shirt was the unmistakable symbol of Hope Academy: a red letter H, stark against a background of white and black, like a brand burned into memory.
These instructors didn't offer guidance or kind words. There were no welcoming speeches. Instead, they coldly and efficiently divided the examinees into smaller groups. One by one, group by group, they were pointed toward the edge of a vast forest that loomed just behind the academy structure.
This forest was not a place of peace. Its trees were tall and crooked, with bark darker than ash and leaves that shimmered faintly in colors that shifted subtly between green and gold. Low fog clung to the ground. The canopy,m, seemed to watch them.
The forest was quiet, almost too quiet, and despite its beauty, there was a palpable sense of danger.
Without explanation, the instructors instructed each group to enter. Five minutes between each group. One after the other. Vanishing into that forest's edge like sacrifices.
The first few groups walked forward. Silence fell.
And then, not long after the last group disappeared into the trees…
The screaming began.
Raw, panicked, and piercing. A mixture of surprise, terror, and the unmistakable realization that strength was not enough — not here.
Men and women,screamed like animals caught in traps. The silence that followed each scream was worse. It left behind questions with no answers.
Each new cry seemed to echo louder than the last, until it became a background symphony.
They overlapped into a chorus of desperation and disillusionment. The sound of people realizing that maybe—just maybe—they were not as gifted as they thought.
Because the truth was this: it didn't matter how much power you thought you had.
Hope Academy would show you whether it was real… or an illusion.