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Chapter 8 - The Climb Begins

Duskhaven's Grand Martial Academy loomed like the dream of a god carved in black stone.

Built into the upper terraces of the Shadowspire cliffs, it stood as a testament to the power, tradition, and ambition of vampire-kind. Towers of blood-forged obsidian pierced the false sky, their spires alight with ward-runes and floating braziers. Between the great pillars stretched walkways of woven steel and bone, filled with whispering wind and echoing footsteps. From the lowest gutter-raised hopeful to the scions of noble houses, all who wished to step beyond mediocrity had to walk through these gates.

Thalos stood at the foot of the grand ascent—the Veinwalk, a staircase of 888 steps leading to the entrance platform. It coiled up the cliff like a spine, carved into jagged angles and lined with glowing crimson crystals. The crowd around him was massive. At least four hundred youths had gathered—aspirants from every corner of the district, every walk of life.

Some wore finely-stitched cloaks and bore enchanted blades at their sides. Others arrived in robes thrumming with spell circuits. A few had personal retainers who whispered tactical advice into their ears before retreating to the shadows.

And then there were the rest—the common-born, the self-trained, the quiet ones.

Thalos adjusted the strap of his satchel and tightened his grip on his shortsword's hilt. His armor was plain leather, reinforced only at the shoulders and knees. No noble crest, no hidden enchantments.

Just the marks of training. Bruises beneath his sleeves. Calluses on his palms. Steady feet.

He had bled in the outer fields. Fought without flourish. Survived.

It would have to be enough.

Beside him, a girl no older than fifteen paced back and forth, muttering arcane phrases under her breath. She had intricate tattoos along her jawline, clearly self-etched, and the slightly manic energy of someone who hadn't slept well.

"I heard the test changes every year," she said without looking at him. "Sometimes it's combat. Sometimes puzzles. One time they just released a swarm of mana-wasps and timed who died last."

Thalos blinked. "That last one's probably exaggerated."

"Probably." She looked at him, eyes dark as pitch. "But if it wasn't... well, at least I brought salve."

He gave her a dry smile. "First time?"

"Yup. You?"

"Same."

"I'm Kiva. Bloodline orphan. Good at illusions. Bad at social cues."

"Thalos. Middle kid. Good at surviving. Still bad at stairs."

They both looked up at the winding path of the Veinwalk.

Kiva groaned. "That's a lot of steps."

"Could be worse," Thalos said.

"How?"

"They could make us race."

She blanched. "Don't say that. The Academy hears things."

Just then, a trumpet sound cut through the murmuring crowd.

A sharp, clear tone followed by a magical voice that echoed down from the mountaintop gates.

"All candidates of Duskhaven District, hear this:The trial commences when the Veinwalk opens.You may ascend at your pace.But know this—every step watched, every heartbeat measured.This is not just a path.This is your first test."

The stone gates at the base groaned and then opened.

The Veinwalk shimmered, each step lighting in sequence like a living trail.

A hush fell over the crowd.

Then movement.

Slow at first. Then building.

Some ran.

Others walked with dignified calm.

Thalos joined the flow of bodies, matching the pace of the middle group.

He didn't run. Didn't sprint.

Instead, he observed.

By step fifty, the crowd had already begun to thin.

Some had overestimated their endurance. Others tried to impress someone—nobles, instructors, or just themselves—and were now gasping and red-faced.

Thalos felt the burn in his thighs, sure, but he'd run worse under Relin's training. Uphill, in rain, while being chased.

This? This was ceremonial.

He focused on his breath, step after step.

To his left, Kiva had kept pace. She wasn't talking anymore, but her breathing was controlled.

"Not bad," he muttered.

She shot him a tired grin. "I hate you."

"Means I'm doing well."

At step 400, a bell chimed in the distance. A third of the crowd had stopped entirely, resting along the carved ledges or returning to the base. Disqualified, or worse—judged as too undisciplined for the next phase.

Thalos kept moving.

At step 600, the glamour illusions began.

He almost didn't notice them.

The world shimmered slightly—just a twitch at the edge of vision. Sounds faded oddly. The rhythm of footfalls dulled. He blinked, rubbed his eyes—and realized his shadow was missing.

A trick.

He paused, let his senses adjust.

Kiva stumbled a few steps ahead, then cursed. "Lost my bearings. Damn illusions."

"It's testing perception," Thalos murmured. "Keep your mind anchored."

"Easy for you to say, Mr. Calm-and-Gloomy."

Still, she stuck close.

The illusions grew subtler. A flicker of movement that wasn't real. A whisper in a familiar voice. A sudden pressure on his chest that made him remember the day he'd nearly lost control of his blood empowerment.

Focus, he told himself. This isn't fear. This is the Academy probing you.

He gritted his teeth and kept climbing.

At step 888, the final platform opened like a blooming flower of stone and crystal.

Only about ninety candidates made it all the way.

Thalos stepped onto the landing, heart hammering but steady. Sweat clung to his back, but his stance remained upright. No crumbling. No faltering.

A magical sigil shimmered beneath his boots, pulsing once.

Candidate Thalos Valen—Veinwalk Completed*

Endurance: 3.5/5

Composure: 4/5

Magical Resistance: 3/5

Mental Focus: 4.5/5

Status: Admitted to Entry Trial Arena Alpha*

He exhaled, hands trembling just slightly.

Beside him, Kiva collapsed dramatically onto the stone floor.

"I want to die. Right here. Tell the academy I fought bravely."

"Noted," Thalos said, offering her a hand up.

She took it.

"You know," she muttered, "you don't look like someone dangerous. But you move like one."

"I take that as a compliment."

"You should."

Above them, the great doors to the inner Academy opened—tall, dark, and carved with scenes of vampire glory.

The next phase was waiting.

And Thalos was still on his feet.

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