Pe:
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Chapter 1 – Part 7D
(First Practical Test & Rival Clash)
The training grounds stretched across uneven earth, dust rising with every step. Wooden poles marked boundaries for exercises, and elemental stones pulsed faintly, resonating with the cores of those near them. The sun beat down harshly, glinting off the cobblestones and shards embedded in the ground.
Jofyn stepped forward, feeling the familiar hum of his robe along his shoulders. The shards stitched into the fabric responded to his pulse, faint but insistent, like an orchestra warming up.
"Ah… the farmer boy," a noble drawled, his fire-imbued core flaring slightly. "Let's see if all that hammering actually means something."
The robe whispered sharply, "Ignore the show-offs. Focus. Or I'll make them regret their arrogance."
Jofyn smirked faintly, adjusting his stance. He didn't need to prove anything yet—just to observe, to calculate, to survive the morning.
The instructor raised his staff. "First exercise: elemental synchronization. Each of you will channel your assigned core into the surrounding stones, maintaining harmony for one full minute. Failure results in immediate deduction of points."
Nobles stepped forward with confidence, flames dancing along their fingertips, water coiling around their wrists, lightning sparking across palms. Their motions were precise, elegant, born of inheritance and years of refined instruction.
Jofyn stepped forward last, his hands brushing lightly across the surface of the stones. His pulse synced with the Forge Core, shards in his robe responding subtly, almost as if alive. He closed his eyes, imagining the flow of creation—the rhythm of hammer, fire, and thought combined.
A faint glow spread from the stones, tracing subtle sigils no noble had noticed. The rhythm wasn't flashy, but it hummed in harmony, steady and deliberate. The robe fluttered, whispering, "Well done, farmer boy. Quiet, elegant… already surprising them."
The noble fire-user sneered, thrusting his palms downward. Flames erupted, jagged and bright, but uneven, a clear misstep. A few stones cracked and smoked. The instructor frowned. "Control, not force."
A water-user tried to correct it, swirling currents in a tight dance. The motion was fluid but strained, breaking the harmony of the stones.
Jofyn's subtle pulse continued, fingers tracing almost invisible arcs in the air. The stones hummed in response, a faint melody of resonance only he seemed to hear. Time stretched, one minute passing in a delicate rhythm, unbroken.
When the instructor raised his hand, the exercise concluded. Nobles looked smug, ready to argue, but the room fell silent as he approached Jofyn. He studied the faint glow radiating from the stones, eyes narrowing.
"Forge Core," he murmured, almost to himself. "First layer… unexpected precision. Subtle, yet effective."
A murmur ran through the classroom. Nobles stiffened, some stepping back. Commoners whispered in astonishment.
The robe, voice low and triumphant, muttered, "And there it is. Quiet genius, farmer boy style. I like the look on their faces."
Jofyn allowed himself a small smile. He hadn't yet proven mastery, hadn't yet earned fame—but this first success, born of observation, focus, and quiet ingenuity, had left its mark.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed one noble muttering to another, lips pressed tight. "He… he actually did it. How?"
Jofyn said nothing. He didn't need to. The pulse of creation within him had spoken, and the first ripple of recognition had begun.
The instructor's gaze lingered a moment longer, a silent acknowledgment of potential. Then, with a nod, he stepped back, allowing the next exercise to begin.
The robe flared faintly, almost gleeful. "And so the dance begins. Sparks, whispers, and hidden talents… delightful."
Jofyn tightened his grip on the edge of his cloak. Outside, the sun burned higher, dust swirled, and the first subtle murmurs of respect—or envy—breathed through the courtyard.
This was only the beginning.
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