The air inside the Sacrum of Trials felt heavy—a mixture of metal, dust, and the sharp scent of sweat. Candlelight lined the walls, reflecting off the cold metal floor, casting shadows that danced like living creatures. The hall was vast, enough to hold dozens of trainee children, yet the silence pressed down on them, making every heartbeat feel louder. From the upper balcony, the mentors observed, their faces hidden in the dim light, appearing only as fleeting silhouettes—shadows that never truly vanished.
In the center of the arena, the trainees readied themselves. Some drew swords with trembling hands, others struggled to control their mana, sweat dripping from their temples. No one smiled. Here, a single misstep could mean serious injury—or the end of a dream.
Amid the crowd stood Cyras. Calm. His two swords—Nihilion and Emptiness—were already fastened to his waist. Silver-white hair partially fell over his face, while his silver-gray eyes glinted sharply, piercing not just bodies, but the doubts in their hearts. A faint aura of Void pulsed around him, creating an unsettling sensation, as if the surrounding air itself was being swallowed into nothingness. Some opponents unconsciously stepped back just from his gaze.
"They're taking this way too seriously," muttered Marlon Hermes, twirling a rune card between his fingers. His long black hair swayed as he spun, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. "It's just practice. Do they really think we're going to kill each other here?"
"For them, it might feel like that," replied Ester Lunaris calmly. She adjusted her grip on the softly glowing Moonblade. Her pale blue hair was neatly tied, and her cloak shimmered faintly with cosmic patterns. "Not everyone has confidence like you two."
Cyras only glanced at her briefly. A thin, almost invisible smile appeared on his lips.
"You're wrong, Ester. I'm not confident," he said flatly. "I just know I'm far stronger than them."
Marlon immediately burst out laughing, his voice echoing across the arena. "Did you hear that? That's the most arrogant—and honest—thing ever to come out of Cyras' mouth."
Ester stifled a smile, though the corners of her lips twitched. "Then don't let your arrogance make you careless."
"Don't worry," Cyras replied, sarcasm lacing his tone. "If I were careless, you and Marlon would've turned to ashes long ago."
Before anyone could respond, a gong echoed through the hall. "Begin!" shouted one of the mentors.
The arena sprang to life. Trainees charged, swords clashed, spells flew.
Cyras drew both swords. His movements were fast and precise, each swing leaving a streak of void. Nihilion carved empty space, deflecting attacks, while Emptiness devoured any mana approaching. His opponents seemed to strike at air, only to stumble as the surrounding space collapsed.
Marlon spun wildly, casting rune cards. Some formed shadow walls, others became clones charging at enemies. "Guess which one's the real me!" he shouted, reveling in the chaos. When a trainee nearly struck Cyras from behind, Marlon's clone erupted into black smoke, leaving the opponent coughing.
Ester moved gracefully on the other side, every swing of Moonblade a dance. Moonlight from her sword cut through dangerous illusions while gently pushing back opponents. Occasionally, she channeled energy to her companions, stabilizing their mana.
The arena became a stage of harmony. Cyras was the center of gravity, his Void creating chaos. Marlon filled the chaos with tricks and traps. Ester kept the rhythm balanced, ensuring destruction didn't turn into disaster.
One by one, opponents fell—unconscious, trapped by illusions, or surrendering under the pressure.
Hours passed. Sweat dripped, dust swirled, and eventually, only the trio remained standing.
The mentors raised their hands. "Enough!"
Silence fell. The other children lay scattered, panting, or were escorted out by healers.
Marlon strolled over to Cyras, patting his back. "You know? You just made me look lazy in front of them. Couldn't you let me be the star just once?"
Cyras stared at him, expression flat. "You are a star, Marlon. A falling star. Shine fast, burn out fast."
Marlon paused, then laughed loudly. "Wow, that's cold. I like it."
Ester approached, exhaling softly as she sheathed her sword. "You can control Void, Cyras. I know that. But still… I hope one day you're not burdened by your own power."
Cyras glanced at her, a crooked smile appearing. "Burden? If there's a burden, I usually toss it away. You and Marlon are still here, right? So clearly, I'm fine."
Ester shook her head, though a small smile tugged at her lips.
The three shared a brief laugh. Not loud, but enough to release the tension lingering in the air.
Amidst the remnants of training, they stood tall. Other children might see them as monsters, but for Cyras, Marlon, and Ester—this was only the beginning.