The towering obsidian gates of the Vaelond Knights Academy loomed before them, etched in ancient goldleaf runes and flanked by colossal statues of long-forgotten champions. Each statue stood over twenty feet high, armored and silent, blades embedded into the stone beneath their feet. Though weathered by time, their presence still radiated power. The academy itself wasn't a palace of marble nor a cathedral of elegance, but a fortress.
At the highest arch above the obsidian gate, etched in runes of molten gold, shone the words:
"Through Pain, We Rise. Through Discipline, We Endure. Through Oath, We Become."
Built into the side of a granite ridge, the Academy's sprawling structure looked more like a bastion than a place of learning. Its towers jutted toward the sky like defiant spears. The outer walls were forged of blackstone, veined with silver streaks that shimmered faintly under the sun, imbued with rune-craft that had withstood generations of war and siege. Dozens of crimson banners fluttered from the battlements, each bearing the crest of the Vaelond Order: a crowned serpent devouring its own tail.
Velina walked beside Ethan, her breath catching slightly as she took in the view. "It doesn't look like a school," she murmured.
"It's not," Ethan replied softly. "It's a crucible."
They followed the flow of young men and women, teenagers mostly, each carrying the weight of ambition on their backs. There were three hundred in total, gathered from different parts of the kingdom. Majority wore tailored noble tunics, their boots unscuffed and posture upright. Others came from rural provinces, but yet had status, nervous yet wide-eyed.
A trio of Knights stood by the gates, armor polished to a mirror sheen, red cloaks draped behind them. One of them raised his hand, halting the incoming group.
Another knight in dark blue armor stepped out, helm tucked beneath his arm. His voice thundered through the air, assisted by enchantment.
"Aspirants, welcome. You enter not as nobles or commoners, but as unshaped steel. Today, the forging begins. Enter."
And then, the gates creaked open with a heavy groan, revealing the vast stone courtyard beyond.
---
The inner academy was built like a military complex. Dorm towers stood like silent sentinels to the north and south. The central building was wide, domed, and ringed by black-iron braziers where pale blue flames danced without consuming fuel. Statues of old Knight-Generals watched from alcoves, and thin ley-lines pulsed faintly along the floor, magic woven directly into the architecture.
They were led into a vast stone hall that echoed with murmurs and footfalls. Crystal lanterns floated near the arched ceiling, casting gentle light over the crowd. A grand table stretched across the far end of the room, behind which sat several Knights in formal black-and-red armor, parchments and ancient ledgers before them. Each Knight bore a silver badge on their left breast, a symbol of their position as assessment instructors.
One of them stood and spoke.
"You will state your full name and place of origin. A record will be kept for each aspirant. Only the strong will be chosen. Only the worthy will proceed. We are not here to coddle you, but to test you."
The hall grew tense.
The line moved quickly. Names were called, titles proclaimed.
"Rexus Algrave. Son of Baron Algrave. From the Silver Crescent Province."
"Alissia Varn. House Varn of Old Gildedhold."
"Neron D'Valmir. Grandson of Count D'Valmir."
The air was thick with noble blood and inherited pride. Until—
"Name?" asked the Knight at the desk.
"Ethan Valdros," came the calm reply.
The quill stopped mid-scratch. The Knight looked up. Others nearby turned.
"Valdros?" one of the instructors repeated, tone clipped. "House Valdros has been extinct for decades. Burned in the Ash Rebellion. Do you claim ties to them?"
Ethan shook his head. "I claim no house."
"Then who gave you that name?"
Ethan's voice was steady. "It was given to me. That's all that matters."
The hall broke into snickers. A girl nearby whispered, "Probably named himself after some dead noble. Pathetic."
A taller boy in embroidered blue laughed openly. "No house, no title, no province worth remembering? Where are you from, bastard?"
"Gravemire Village," Ethan replied.
The laughter exploded.
"Gravemire? That mud pit burned years ago!"
"Does it even exist anymore?"
"Why not say you're from the Moon, too?"
The Knight's brow furrowed. "There is no record of Gravemire survivors in the census. Are you certain?"
Ethan didn't flinch. "I'm sure."
More laughter.
His fists clenched. Beneath his wrappings, he felt the Leviathan Mark twitch faintly. Wrath swelled behind his sternum, cold and primal.
You laugh now… but this name—
One day it'll choke you. One day it'll make your bones shake.
"Very well," the Knight said dismissively, writing his name with a scoff. "No House. No Province. No status. Move on."
Velina's registration followed. When they heard her family name, the reaction was vastly different, nods of respect, acknowledgement, a few curious glances. She walked away from the table with composed dignity.
"You okay?" she whispered as they rejoined the others.
"I've heard worse," Ethan replied. "They can laugh. But the battlefield doesn't care where you come from."
---
The last of the names were recorded. Then, from the side of the hall, attendants emerged holding black metal trays. Upon each tray sat dozens of strange, cuff-like devices, each about the size of a palm, crafted from smooth bronze with runic lines etched deep into the frame. In the center of each cuff sat a dull, round crystal that pulsed faintly.
"These are your Trial Bands," one Knight announced. "You will wear them on your left wrist. Each will track your physical output, movements, and performance. It is powered by refined beast-crystal, a rare resource. Do not break or tamper with it, or you'll be disqualified."
Ethan took one when it was passed to him. It was heavier than it looked, cool to the touch. The bronze band wrapped around his wrist and tightened with a faint hiss of magic. The crystal in its center flickered to life, displaying his name in old glyphs:
[ Ethan Valdros – Participant ID: #197 ]
[ Sync: Active ]
"Looks like they let you keep the name," a boy sneered nearby.
Ethan didn't respond. Velina simply stepped closer beside him.
And they were soon led to an inner courtyard.