Part 2 — The Capital Academy: Trial by Flame and Sky
Section 1 — Flight to the Heart of Eryndor
The mechanical voice boomed from the front of the sky-carriage, echoing through the steel hull like thunder caught in a bottle.
"Now entering Eryndor Capital airspace. All passengers prepare for descent."
Ares pressed his hand to the cool glass of the window. Clouds slid apart in streaks of silver and gold, revealing the endless sprawl of Eryndor Capital, the beating heart of the Ten Nations.It was nothing like his quiet mountain village.Here, towers of crystal and metal speared the clouds; floating rings of light hovered over plazas; skyships drifted in patterned formations, guided by runic beacons. Magic pulsed in every brick.
His breath caught. So this… this is the world beyond the valley.
The Sky-Carriage
The sky-carriage wasn't pulled by animals—it was driven by magitech cores, glowing blue circles that hummed beneath the floorboards. Each hum resonated with the pulse of Eryndor's ley lines. Dozens of other carriages streaked past, each carrying students from border academies to the Capital.
Inside, chatter filled the cabin—dozens of boys and girls wearing different-colored cloaks, each color marking a nation.
To his left sat a girl with twin braids the color of storm clouds; her silver eyes gleamed like quicksilver. To his right, a broad-shouldered boy polished the edge of his short sword, his cloak bearing the crimson insignia of Ignis Nation—the land of flame mages.
The boy caught Ares's glance and grinned."First time to the Capital, huh? You look like you've never seen a floating city before."
Ares blinked. "Is it that obvious?"
The boy laughed, leaning back. "Yeah. The wide eyes give it away. Don't worry, country kid. Once you breathe this air a few days, you'll start acting like the rest of us—half amazed, half terrified."
Ares smiled politely. "I'm Ares Valen. From Arden Village, western ridge."
"Ignis Nation's Reis Forne." He tapped the red insignia. "Flame affinity. What's yours?"
Ares hesitated. The light of the core reflected in his crimson eyes—too bright, too strange. "Still… uncertain."
Reis raised an eyebrow. "Huh. You're on this flight without knowing your affinity? That's rare."
Ares only smiled faintly. "I'll find out soon enough."
Inside him, the six motes of color—red, blue, green, yellow, brown, and violet—spun quietly, like caged stars.
First Glimpse of the Ten Nations
The carriage dipped lower. Outside, the Ten Nations' banners unfurled from colossal spires encircling the Capital. Each standard shimmered in elemental hues.
Ignis Empire – red phoenix on black flame: dominion of fire mages and weapon-smiths.
Aqua Dominion – blue serpent on silver wave: masters of water and healing arts.
Ventus Clans – white hawk on turquoise wind spiral: aerial warriors and storm-callers.
Terra Union – brown hammer on green earth: fortress builders and geomancers.
Fulmen League – yellow bolt on obsidian sky: lightning blades and magitech pioneers.
Lux Sanctum – golden sun on white field: holy light users and heal-guardians.
Umbra Consortium – black crescent on violet mist: shadow casters and spies.
Aether Syndicate – silver star on navy veil: space and gravity manipulators.
Bestia Dominatus – bronze claw on scarlet pelt: beast-tamer warriors.
Eryndor Central Alliance – the neutral heart where the Capital stood, symbolized by a circle of all ten colors.
Ten banners—ten ways to shape power. Together, they formed the Circle of Nations, bound by treaty… and rivalry.
Ares's gaze wandered from one banner to the next. So many paths… yet none call louder than flame.
The intercom crackled. "Approaching Central Academy Dock 47. Cadets, secure belongings."
Arrival
Wind roared as the carriage descended. Ares's cloak fluttered wildly, the golden thread catching sunlight like sparks.
The dock stretched before them—miles of polished stone platforms hovering in the air, connected by chains of light. Soldiers in silver armor stood in formation, each carrying spears glowing with runes.
"Welcome to Capital Academy Transit Hub!" a cheerful attendant shouted as the hatch opened. "Line up by your regional insignia!"
Reis elbowed Ares. "Stick close, rookie. This place eats the unprepared."
Ares followed, stepping onto the dock. The moment his boot touched the glowing surface, he felt the surge of mana—thick, alive, heavy as a heartbeat.The air itself was power.
Hundreds of carriages floated in, each unloading students in colorful waves. Fire Nation reds mingled with Water Nation blues, Lightning yellows sparked against Earth browns. Rivalries already crackled in the air like static.
"Look at them," a girl from the Ventus Clans whispered nearby. "So many, yet only a handful will pass the Capital Academy Trials."
Her friend snorted. "Good. Less competition."
Commanders of the Nations
Ares's attention shifted as ten elevated platforms rose from the center of the dock. Upon each stood a figure draped in their nation's emblem—Commanders, chosen representatives who oversaw their nations' academy programs.
The announcer's voice thundered magically across the dock.
"Cadets of the Ten Nations! Welcome to Eryndor Capital Academy—the crucible where talent is forged into legend!"
The crowd erupted into cheers and nervous murmurs.
"You have each survived your regional examinations. But here, all are equal. Fire or water, sky or shadow—only skill determines rank!"
Reis whispered, "That's Commander Varric of Ignis—the Phoenix Marshal himself."
Ares saw him—a tall man with red hair like burning coal and eyes sharp as blades. Beside him, the Commander of Aqua stood calm and cold, her robe flowing like liquid glass. Lightning sparked between rival glances.
Then the announcer's tone shifted.
"All cadets will undergo the Academy Entrance Trial in three days' time—a combined assessment of magic, combat, and teamwork within the Arcane Simulacrum."
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.
Reis whistled. "Simulacrum? They're making us fight inside a dimensional copy already? Usually that's for second-years!"
Ares tilted his head. "Simulacrum?"
Reis grinned nervously. "Think of it as… a dungeon the professors built from condensed mana. It copies terrain—and monsters—from anywhere in the world. Sometimes… things from beyond."
Ares's fingers tightened around his cloak's edge. A copy of reality itself… and we'll be thrown into it as a test.
His pulse quickened—not with fear, but anticipation.
The Parade of Power
After orientation, the cadets were ushered through the Aether Gates, shimmering arches that transported them into the inner Capital.
The shift was instant—like diving through light. When Ares opened his eyes, the city stretched beneath him in impossible layers.
Air bridges, floating gardens, waterfalls suspended midair; runic trains gliding on rails of light; streets of crystal tiles humming underfoot. Magic wasn't a craft here—it was the language of life.
"Whoa," Reis breathed. "Even Ignis doesn't burn this bright."
Ares walked slowly, gaze drinking everything in. His mind spun. This is what the Ten Nations built when they stopped warring… yet beneath the harmony, the fire still burns.
As they crossed a square, they passed a group of upper-class students. Their uniforms bore golden sigils marking rank. One of them, a tall boy with silver hair and lightning flickering around his fingers, looked Ares up and down.
"New batch, huh?" His smirk was sharp. "Try not to die in the first hour."
Reis muttered, "That's Kael Veyren—Fulmen League's prodigy. Rumor says he entered the Academy at eleven and already reached Fourth Circle lightning mastery."
Kael's gaze lingered on Ares's red eyes for a moment. "Strange… you don't wear any elemental insignia. From which nation?"
Ares met his stare. "Eryndor Neutral Zone."
Kael chuckled. "Neutral? Then you'll need luck. This isn't a place for those without a banner."
He turned, electricity crackling behind him like laughter.
Reis clenched his fists. "What a jerk."
Ares simply watched Kael go. Power speaks loudly here. Maybe too loudly.
The Academy Gates
By midday, the group reached the Capital Academy itself—a vast citadel floating in a ring of storm clouds, suspended by gravity runes and anchored by ten luminous chains, each connected to one of the Nations.
At its center rose the Hall of Ascension, a tower reaching so high it pierced the clouds. The upper half glowed with radiant patterns that shifted colors every few seconds—fire to water, lightning to shadow, light to space.
An instructor awaited them at the massive front gate: an elderly man with white hair and an aura of calm authority.
"Welcome, young aspirants. I am Master Orin, senior instructor of Arcane Foundations. From this day, you are no longer children of your villages—you are cadets of Eryndor Academy."
His eyes scanned the crowd and paused—briefly—on Ares.
"Some of you will rise quickly. Others will fall and vanish. But all will be tested."
He turned. The colossal gate opened with a low rumble. Runes flared, and the gates revealed a courtyard large enough to hold an army.
"Follow me."
Courtyard of Nations
The courtyard was divided into ten sections, each themed after an element. Rivers of molten rock flowed beside pools of pure water; lightning trees crackled next to floating islands; in the center stood a circular plaza where all energies merged in a whirling dance.
Master Orin gestured. "The Academy's Core draws mana from all Ten Nations. It allows our dungeons, our training arenas, and—most importantly—our Simulacrum Chambers to function."
He lifted his hand. The ground rippled, forming a glowing map of the world beneath their feet. The Ten Nations' borders lit up like constellations.
"Beyond these lands, space fractures appear more frequently each year. The beasts you've heard about—the 'Sky Tides'—come from those cracks. Remember that our true enemy isn't each other… but the void beyond."
Ares's heart thudded. He remembered the meteor-like light he'd seen years ago, splitting the sky. His mother's words echoed: "When the heavens bleed, the beasts follow."
Reis whispered, "Do you think we'll ever face those beasts?"
Ares answered softly, "I hope so."
Reis blinked. "You hope so?"
Ares's crimson eyes glowed faintly. "Because if I never face them, I'll never know how far I can reach."
Master Orin's voice broke the moment. "You will each be assigned dorms by region. Training begins tomorrow. Rest well—the Trial by Flame and Sky awaits."
The Dorms
Night draped the Capital in silver and gold. Ares sat by the dormitory window, staring at the glittering skyline. Distant airships blinked like constellations.
Reis snored on the bed across the room, mumbling something about "roasting Kael alive."
Ares smiled faintly, then opened his palm. Tiny motes of light danced above it—red, blue, green, yellow, brown, violet. Each shimmered uncertainly, as though resisting shape.
He whispered, "Fire… water… wind… earth… lightning… space… all inside me. But none stable. What am I?"
The motes spun faster, drawn to his heartbeat.
Ares Valen… you carry more than mana. You carry a seed of something ancient.
The whisper wasn't human. It pulsed through his veins like echoing flame.
Ares jerked upright, scanning the room. "Who—?"
Silence. Only the hum of the city remained.
He looked down. The motes were gone.
Was that… the same voice from my awakening?
He pressed his hand over his heart. The heat beneath his ribs pulsed once—like a distant star.
The Ten Ranks
The next morning, the courtyard buzzed with energy. Hundreds of cadets stood in lines facing ten instructors. Above them floated a massive display rune showing the Ranking System.
Master Orin explained:
"The Academy divides all cadets into ten ranks. Rank Ten marks novices; Rank One marks prodigies approaching national elite status. Advancement depends on battle results, dungeon performance, and faculty assessment."
Whispers spread quickly. Ares listened quietly.
"In three days, your rank will be decided by your performance in the Simulacrum Trial."
Kael Veyren stepped forward from the Fulmen cadets. Lightning flared around him. "Then I'll save everyone the suspense. Rank One will be mine."
The crowd cheered or groaned depending on allegiance.
Reis muttered, "Show-off."
Ares said nothing. But deep within, the fire in his chest responded with a silent challenge. Then I'll see how high I can climb.
Preview of the Trial
At sunset, all cadets were gathered before the Simulacrum Chamber—a vast spherical structure of glass and runes. Energy coiled around it like a sleeping storm.
Master Orin spoke gravely. "The Chamber draws fragments of distant realms. Inside, your bodies and mana are copied into a safe reflection. Failures here won't kill you—but pain, exhaustion, and fear will feel real. The Trial by Flame and Sky begins soon."
The instructors activated the runes. The sphere pulsed, casting crimson and azure light across every face.
Wind howled. The sky darkened. Far above, the faint shimmer of space cracked open for a heartbeat—thin, invisible, hungry.
No one but Ares noticed. His eyes glowed red as he looked up.
Something's watching… from beyond the cracks.
The hum in his chest burned again. Fire, wind, water, earth, lightning, space… and something beyond even that.
The sphere flared brighter.
"Cadets, prepare for synchronization!"
Reis clapped Ares on the shoulder. "Let's show them what backwater kids can do!"
Ares smiled. "Yeah."
The light swallowed them.