The academy was never quiet, but as the year-end exams approached, the air itself seemed heavier. The usual chatter in the corridors turned into hurried whispers, students clutching notes or pacing with restless energy. Even the instructors, normally relaxed, grew stern, reminding everyone that these exams weren't just about grades—they determined access to privileges, rankings, and the foundation of a student's path in the academy.
Alex could feel it. Every step through the stone hallways seemed to echo louder, like the academy itself was reminding him of the stakes. He remembered Silas's fiery words from weeks ago, the oath they had silently made as friends: "We'll answer them not with words, but with results."
From across the hall, he caught sight of Varlen's group. Four boys from noble families, draped in arrogance as comfortably as their fine cloaks. They smirked at passing students, as if they already owned the results. One of them caught Alex's eye and gave a mocking salute. Alex didn't respond. He just clenched his fist at his side and kept walking.
The trials were about to begin.
Day One – The Written Exams
The first day tested knowledge rather than strength. The exam hall stretched endlessly, desks lined in perfect rows beneath the watchful eyes of instructors. Heavy tomes lay stacked at the front, but the only sound was scratching quills and the occasional cough.
The papers were merciless. Questions on the history of ruins, theories of lost magic, the biology of dungeon beasts, tactical scenarios, and even mathematics that twisted Alex's brain into knots. He took a deep breath and attacked each question steadily. This was his battlefield now, and hesitation would kill him as surely as a monster's claws.
Silas, seated a few rows ahead, was in his element. His quill danced across parchment, his sharp eyes flicking with certainty. Joren and Toren, however, shifted in their seats, grumbling under their breaths. They were strong fighters, but theory had never been their strength. Still, they pushed through, sweat dripping down their foreheads.
When the bell rang, ending the session, Varlen's group stood leisurely, laughing. "Peasants scribbling like their lives depend on it," one of them sneered as they walked past Alex's row.
Alex stood, stretching his sore back, but kept his mouth shut. Words were cheap. Results weren't.
Day Two – The Physical Trials
The training grounds transformed into a battlefield the next day. The sun blazed above, glinting off weapons and armor. Students lined up for endurance runs, strength tests, weapon handling, and reflex drills. The tension was thick, but so was the determination.
The whistle blew, and they ran. Joren surged forward like a storm, his long strides eating the ground, Toren close at his side. The twins thrived in this environment, built for combat. Their stamina carried them through grueling sprints, their swings against weighted dummies echoing with raw power.
Alex wasn't the strongest, but he was clever. He conserved energy, moving with controlled precision rather than reckless speed. While others gasped for breath midway, he paced himself and finished strong. In weapon drills, he showed surprising skill, not in brute strength but in steady accuracy—every strike placed with purpose.
Silas struggled at first. His build wasn't meant for heavy lifting or long-distance runs, but he compensated with sharp instincts. In reflex tests, where students had to dodge and react to sudden attacks, he excelled, predicting movements before they happened. Instructors scribbled notes with raised brows.
Varlen's group flexed their muscles with arrogance. Their swings were strong, but their lack of discipline showed. They wasted stamina showing off, and their sloppy footwork made instructors frown. Alex noticed, but said nothing. Let them drown in their pride.
Day Three – The Group Simulation Exam
By the third day, the air was electric. Students gathered in the massive arena where a dungeon simulation had been prepared. Illusions of monsters, traps, and dark corridors shimmered, creating a realistic and dangerous environment. The task was simple: survive, adapt, and conquer as a team.
Before entering, Alex gathered his friends. "Silas, you take scout and strategy. Call the shots. I'll handle support and cover our flanks. Joren, Toren—you two are our front line. Push forward, clear paths, but don't overextend."
They all nodded. Their plan was simple, but their trust in one another made it unshakable.
Inside, darkness swallowed them. Flickering torches lit the way, shadows dancing like enemies waiting to strike. Growls echoed through the halls. Silas took the lead, sharp eyes scanning every corner. "Trap on the left—avoid it. Joren, step lighter. Toren, take the right path; the corridor's wider."
They moved as one, Alex striking down small monsters that lunged from the shadows. His focus was on keeping his friends mobile, clearing sidelines before anything could overwhelm them. Joren and Toren smashed through the heavier beasts, their swords a blur of steel and fury. Silas's voice rang out, guiding them, each call precise and timely.
Then came the boss. A massive armored beast roared, its illusions so vivid that Alex's heart pounded as if it were real. The twins engaged head-on, their blades clashing against its armor. Alex circled, striking at weak points, forcing it to turn and expose openings. Silas shouted strategies, timing attacks with precision.
It was brutal, chaotic, but it ended with the beast collapsing into shimmering dust. The crowd watching erupted in cheers. Instructors whispered among themselves, impressed at the seamless teamwork.
For peasants, they had fought like champions.
Exams End – A Week of Rest
When the exams ended, the academy exhaled. The tension lifted, replaced by tired laughter and relief. Students were granted a week off before results were posted.
For the first time in months, Alex and his friends sat under the open sky, just talking. They had trained, bled, and studied together, but they had never truly shared their pasts.
That evening, the four sat together in their room, each finally opening up about their families. It was a rare moment of quiet honesty after weeks of exams.
Silas spoke first, his tone calm but proud. "My father serves as a senior adviser in the Elyndor Council. I grew up around endless scrolls and meetings… I guess that's where I learned to think more than swing a sword. He always told me, 'Strategy wins wars before blades ever clash.'"
Alex listened with admiration. It explained why Silas was so natural at reading situations.
Then Joren and Toren exchanged a glance before Joren leaned forward. "Our father is the Head of the Barracks in Drakensport. You know what that means—training soldiers, running drills, maintaining discipline."
Toren chuckled, nudging his brother. "Basically, he yelled at us every morning until we could lift a sword without trembling. We grew up with drills before breakfast. That's why we don't back down from fights."
Alex laughed with them, but he could also see the weight in their words—the pressure of being sons of a man who kept Drakensport's defenses ironclad.
When it was finally Alex's turn, he hesitated, then smiled softly. "You all know my father… Commander Gareth Darius of Embervale. Everyone does. My mother's no less strong, an Awakened herself. I just… never saw them fight with their powers. They kept me away from that part of their lives. Maybe they wanted me to choose my own path."
For a while, the room was filled with a sense of mutual respect. Different backgrounds, different expectations—but the same determination had brought them together.
Results Day
The academy courtyard was packed on the morning of results. Students swarmed the announcement board, eyes wide, voices raised. Alex and his friends pushed through the crowd, hearts pounding.
The rankings glared back at them.
1st – Unknown
No name anyone recognized. A shadowy figure, rarely seen in classes, now suddenly at the top. Whispers spread like wildfire. "Who is that?" "How's that possible?"
2nd – Alex
His chest tightened. Second. Higher than he had ever imagined.
3rd – Silas
A proud smile spread across Silas's face.
4th – Joren
5th – Toren
Their group had claimed almost the entire top five. The courtyard fell silent for a moment, disbelief echoing across faces. Then came the murmurs—praise, awe, and jealousy.
Varlen's group appeared at the edge of the crowd, their jaws tight, their eyes burning with humiliation. They hadn't even cracked the top five. Their pride shattered, but their hatred smoldered hotter than ever.
The instructors exchanged glances, nodding with quiet respect. It was rare to see such unity, such balance of brains, brawn, and strategy.
Alex and his friends looked at each other. They had done it. Not just survived—but thrived.
Joren said Alex " How can I get Brain and like your's ? You almost exceled in both theory and practical. Four of them started laughing
Departure to Homes
The week ended, and with it came the end of their first year at the academy. Students packed bags, said goodbyes, and boarded carriages bound for their homes.
Alex stood by the gates, his belongings strapped to his side. Silas clasped his hand firmly. "Don't slack during the break."
Joren grinned. "Train hard, or we'll leave you behind."
Toren smirked. "Yeah, we're not slowing down."
Alex laughed. "I'll be waiting for all of you in Crownspire gate when we return. Don't forget—we're aiming higher next year."
They parted ways, each heading back to their own lives for the short holiday.
As Alex's carriage rolled out of the academy gates, he leaned back, watching the stone towers fade into the distance. For the first time since he arrived, he allowed himself to breathe. He had earned his place.
But deep in his heart, he knew this was only the beginning.