The infirmary stank of herbs and steel. Groaning trainees filled the narrow cots, clutching bruises, burns, and broken pride. Healing glyphs pulsed dimly on the walls, their glow meant to soothe—but no glyph could ease humiliation.
I sat on the edge of a cot, ribs bound in fresh linen. The healer's magic dulled the pain, but every breath still reminded me of the echo-user's fist.
Braun lounged on the bed beside me, cheek swollen purple, grin intact.
"See? Told you. Walls don't fall."
I tried to laugh, winced instead.
Lucen didn't sit. He stood by the far wall, arms crossed, Dominion gone but presence heavy as ever. His eyes skipped past Braun and me, landing on the nobles congratulating Tessa across the room.
Whispers carried even here:
"A Vale, in last place…"
"…dragged down by peasants, no doubt."
"…what a disgrace."
Lucen's jaw tightened, but he didn't answer. I lowered my gaze. Sometimes silence was all you had.
The doors creaked open. A proctor strode in, staff echoing against stone.
"Rest well. Your next trial begins at dawn." His eyes swept the room—lingering on Lucen, then Tessa, then finally me. "This time you will face not one another, but a true enemy. Prepare yourselves."
The word hung unspoken, heavy enough that everyone felt it.
Demons.
Morning broke sharp and cold. The courtyard stood empty of spectators, ringed instead by grim-faced proctors. At its center sat a cage of black iron.
Inside crouched a demon.
It wasn't tall, barely man-sized, but its skin smoked as if fire simmered beneath. Shackles glowed with runes, binding its limbs, but its coal-red eyes scanned the students like meat on a butcher's rack. Even restrained, the air twisted with pressure.
The rules were simple:
"One by one, you will enter. Defeat the demon. Survive, and keep your crest. Fail… and the demon decides your fate."
The first student entered—a lowborn boy with a spear. He lunged fast, desperate. The demon swatted him aside like an insect. His crest dimmed as the proctors dragged his limp body free.
Another entered. Then another. Some won through grit. Others failed, their blood staining the stones.
When Braun's turn came, he cracked his knuckles, grinning through the pain.
"Finally. Something worth hitting back."
His earth magic rose like walls around him, stone grinding under demon claws. He met fire with stubbornness, outlasting the beast until, with a roar, he buried it beneath pillars of rock. Smoke and dust—victory, for now.
Tessa followed. Wind sharpened into invisible blades, carving at the demon until it collapsed unconscious. She didn't even let it touch her. Perfect. Effortless. Untouchable.
Then Lucen stepped forward.
The Dominion Blade shimmered into being, astral steel radiant as the sun. The demon recoiled instantly, chains rattling, as if it recognized death itself.
One strike. That was all.
The blade sang, and the demon fell—silent. No smoke, no dust, no return. Its body remained, still and solid.
A ripple tore through the courtyard. Demons weren't supposed to leave corpses. Everyone knew the old legend.
Dominion could erase. Dominion could end.
Lucen sheathed the weapon slowly. No cheers. Only silence thick enough to choke.
Finally, my name was called.
I gripped my blade, stepped into the cage. The demon turned, sparks trailing from its chains.
Threads flickered across my vision. Grey. Unclear.
I lunged, following them—too late. The demon's claw raked across my ribs, fire licking the wound. I staggered, blood burning down my side.
Another thread appeared. Another chance. I drove my blade forward, steel biting into its shoulder. The demon roared, flinging me back against the bars. Pain blurred my vision, threads twisting like mocking whispers.
The demon raised its claw for the killing blow—
—and froze.
My blade, still lodged in its shoulder, pulsed faintly. Not with light. With my will. My refusal to break.
Gritting my teeth, I shoved forward with everything left in me. Ribs screaming, vision narrowing, I forced it down. The shackles flared, glyphs tightening. The demon collapsed, pinned and defeated—but not slain.
The proctor's voice rang out, final as a bell:
"Lioren Thalen. Pass."
I staggered back to the line. Braun clapped my shoulder, careful this time. Lucen said nothing. But his eyes met mine—sharp, unreadable. Not respect. Not pity. Something colder.
Something that promised this wasn't the last time I'd stand bloodied before him.