Oren, like all of the candidates, fell silent beneath the words.
He did not like this. Oren hated feeling like a child in this world, forced to grasp something as abstract and distant as enlightenment.
The term alone could mean several things...
He paused for a moment.
Faint footsteps reached his ears, drawing his attention toward the entrance.
A man stood before the doors. He had just entered.
But no one seemed to notice.
Oren's gaze swept across the room, searching for a reaction.
There was none.
He frowned, confusion creeping in.
The newcomer faced none of the quiet condemnation Oren had received.
Was he an elder, perhaps... It did not matter.
Oren focused on the man's calm smile, then his eyes.
They were jade, like foreshadowed hues of a forest. His pale skin and ice-white hair lay over him like snow blanketing a woodland.
A faint tension crept into Oren's breath, yet no one seemed to notice his unease.
The elder turned his head.
His gaze met Oren's instantly.
For a moment, it felt as though nothing else existed within the academy hall.
Something about those eyes felt... off.
Not hostile, just not entirely human.
Then the man smiled politely.
But Oren had already turned away, his attention settling on Elder Idris as he spoke.
"As youths under the main branch of the Outskirts System, you are all granted a proper education, unlike the common folk.
Most of you, if not all of you, belong to clans. Esteemed or not, your status far surpasses the place you were born into."
Elder Idris' gaze sharpened.
"I would have thought you'd already been informed because of this."
His voice hardened.
"So tell me, did the clans you reside in teach you nothing? Did they not even tell you that enlightenment begins with sensing the world's energy?"
World energy? Oren mused.
So enlightenment had nothing to do with religion... For a moment, Oren had imagined himself preaching it to others.
Elder Idris exhaled, irritation slipping through his stern tone.
"No… no, this will not do. Because of their ignorance, precious time will be wasted on what you all should already know."
He paused, then spoke more coldly.
"Still, I will speak of enlightenment another day, when you have reached it. How you reach it is what I am here to tell you."
His eyes moved across the hall.
A brief silence followed.
"To put it simply, you do not have long. One week, at most. That is when the trial begins, and that is the only time you have to prepare."
Walking along the front rows of students, Elder Idris smiled faintly.
"The trial decides whether you remain in the academy. It will also decide if you are worthy of being blessed by the world and granted enlightenment."
He glanced at the candidates, then at the elders surrounding the room.
"In this hall, there are only a handful of rising talents who will pass the trial with flying colours. In other words, prodigies.
But do not let that delude you. You will only have seven days."
His voice carried through the vast, stone-slabbed hall.
"When the trial starts, that is your timer. If you are even a minute late, you fail."
Elder Idris stopped abruptly in the middle of the central aisle.
"Elder Idris," a young girl's voice rang out.
"What happens if we fail? If there is nothing to prepare for, how will we know what we are to face? You know failure is almost certain if we go into it blind. That's what my brother said, at least."
She fell silent.
Elder Idris continued, answering with a mask of indifference.
"Your brother is a wise man..."
Hearing his words, the girl's face flushed crimson.
"Sadly…" Elder Idris said, his face remained expressionless as he exhaled slowly.
"You cannot prepare. The mind cannot be sharpened like a blade. In the Trial of Longing, there is no correct way to prepare.
Unlike the Trial of Combat, where two candidates face one another within the trial grounds, or a single candidate is matched against an unknown champion, this trial is purely of the mind.
Purely of the self. You will be alone.
If you see someone, it is already false."
A quiet ripple of wariness passed through the hall.
No one dared interrupt the elder, but Oren had many questions.
He briefly wondered how the trial had changed so drastically... from physical to mental.
Perhaps he knew too little about this world to judge it.
In the end, Oren did not speak.
Elder Idris resumed walking, a dim smile on his face.
"But remember this. The trial is equal. Whatever you face, you will have an equal chance of success or failure."
Several students shifted in their seats. Equal did not mean merciful. Failure was failure, and no one welcomed it.
"In order to somewhat prepare for this major event, you must isolate yourselves.
Dive deep into meditation, concentration, and refinement. Feel your body and your senses. And finally, prepare for what comes after the trial.
When you succeed, when you overcome the Trial of Longing and become able to feel the world's currents, its essence, then, with time, you will understand."
A faint crease formed between Oren's brows.
"Still, do not be mistaken."
The words drained what little hope remained. The hall grew heavier, as though the air itself had thickened.
"The trial will be cruel. Unlike the Trial of Combat, this will not be a fight between two candidates, nor between one and a chosen champion.
Unlike the trials of rival district academies, this one is rare. You will face something neither flesh nor spirit."
Silence followed. Not even the faint scrape of fabric echoed now.
"In the Trial of Longing, you have no guide. Your mind and your resolve will be your only weapons. But beware. A weapon that turns on its wielder cuts deepest."
A few swallowed.
"You are children in this world. You have no voice and no power. I can only teach you so much. And strength is not one of those lessons, and that is precisely why you must succeed."
His gaze passed over the hall, slow and deliberate.
"For your other question, it is quite simple, actually.
Losing in the Trial of Longing means death."
The word struck harder than any shout.
A chill ran through Oren's body, his fingers tightening slightly at his sides.
"If you fail the trial, what happens to you will be out of our hands. That is why your success proves your innate talent."
His eyes darkened, staring at the rows of people with a somber expression.
"If you fail," he said softly, "you will not see the light of the eighth day."
...
Days passed quietly after the Trial Assembly.
Before dismissing the candidates, the academy bestowed each of them with a small pouch containing the currency of Unison.
They called it Yie.
At first, Oren did not understand what he was holding. The object resembled a coin, yet its material was difficult to identify.
It was neither clearly metal nor stone, but something in between, cold, and strangely smooth to the touch.
One side bore the engraving of a half-circle. The other, a cross. Beneath the symbol, etched in precise lettering, were the words:
Ten Yie. Currency of the New Era.
The inscription raised more questions than it answered. For the rest of the day, Oren remained alone with his thoughts.
The looming reality of the Trial of Longing weighed heavily on him.
Death. Peace.
No, wait!
Not just death, but a state of peace, a peace he had spent an arduous stretch of time seeking, only to disrupt it with C04's healing.
And now, he was trapping himself in the same cycle, inflicting upon himself the same harm.
He did not even know anymore. Did he want peace?
And if he did, did he truly want it? He could no longer see it through the narrow lens he once trusted, the lens that had told him the only path to peace was through death, through the absence of consciousness, through the complete erasure of sentience.
The new information did not only affect him though but the countless other students in the assembly, who wished to become enlightened.
Because death was no longer an abstract concept whispered about in halls.
It had become a real possibility.
And now, for reasons he did not yet understand, he had been given money.
It was only the following morning that clarity came. The academy held what would be his first and only lesson before the trial.
The subject was one rarely taught within the Academy of Enlightenment, as most considered it common knowledge.
It was called Resource Theory.
The lesson existed less to educate and more to prepare, to remind the candidates what reality felt like beyond polished stone floors and structured schedules.
In the outskirts, education was a luxury few could afford. Mundane schools were small, tattered structures that barely qualified as institutions of learning.
Knowledge there was fragmented, inconsistent, and often outdated.
The academy, by contrast, was something else entirely, controlled, refined, and deliberate.
Many of the candidates had already glimpsed the promise of success long before arriving, some through distant relatives, others through powerful clans into which they were born.
For those born into clans, advancement was almost expected. For the rest, it had always been a distant rumour, a half-believed story told to make harsh lives more bearable.
During the lesson, Oren finally learned what Yie truly was. It was the currency of the Unison Region, forged directly from materials harvested from the Unison Mountains.
There were three recognised grades. Mineral Yie was the lowest form, shaped from the most common yields of the mountains.
Mountain Yie was the standard currency, refined from stronger and more stable materials.
Golden Yie was the rarest and most prestigious grade, extracted from scarce deposits found deep within the range.
Yet the Unison Mountains no longer sustained civilisation. Whatever settlements once stood within that vast range had fallen generations ago.
From afar, one could still glimpse the remnants of villages and fractured cities, but there were no trade routes threading through the peaks.
No markets, no caravans. There was nothing to barter with. No population left to sustain commerce.
That was why no other land could place a value on its name too.
Because of this, Yie was not earned through trade. It was extracted. And it remained specific to Unison City, in the mountains were only the Enlightened were permitted to enter.
The volatile zones within the range were unstable and lethal to ordinary citizens, a place that had not been touched in centuries.
As the sunwane approached, the world seemed to dull, and with it, the resolve of many candidates. Few were truly willing to face death.
And for some reason… the academy began to speak more of the Enlightened.