The gate swallowed the first candidate whole.
One step forward.
A flash of white.
Then—
He was gone.
No scream.No resistance.Just absence.
A second later, the air beside the platform distorted and the boy reappeared, thrown violently onto the stone floor. He slid several meters before stopping, coughing blood.
Instructor Kael didn't react.
"Rejected," he said calmly. "Mana instability."
The crowd went silent.
Rafe's fingers curled slightly.
This wasn't symbolic.This wasn't ceremonial.
The Academy didn't hesitate.
Another candidate stepped forward, jaw clenched, aura flaring with confidence.
She vanished into the gate.
A heartbeat passed.
Two.
Then she stumbled out on her feet, pale but standing.
"Accepted," Kael said. "Category: Standard Combat."
Relief rippled through the crowd.
Hope.
Fear.
Ambition.
Kael's gaze swept across them.
"The gate evaluates three things," he continued. "Control. Compatibility. Potential."
He paused.
"Potential alone will not save you."
Mara cracked her knuckles.
"Good. I hate lazy geniuses."
Lyn swallowed hard.
Rafe felt the anchor tighten again, reacting to the gate's presence like a wire pulled too close to heat.
Then Kael's eyes landed on him.
"Next."
Rafe stepped forward.
Every gaze locked onto him.
He could feel it—the scrutiny, the curiosity, the faint hostility from those who sensed something off about him.
He stopped before the gate.
The shimmering surface reflected him faintly.
Not his face.
His layers.
Light on the surface.Shadow beneath.And something sealed so deep it barely existed.
Rafe inhaled slowly.
Control, he reminded himself.
He stepped through.
The world turned inside out.
For a split second, he stood nowhere—suspended between pressure and silence. The gate didn't push him out.
It paused.
Information rushed through him like cold rain.
Scanning.Measuring.Comparing.
The anchor flared painfully.
Rafe bit down on the pain and did nothing.
No resistance.No surge.No fear.
Then—
The pressure vanished.
He stepped out the other side.
Standing.
Unharmed.
The silence that followed was heavier than any rejection.
Instructor Kael's brow furrowed.
He stared at Rafe longer than he had at anyone else.
"Interesting," Kael murmured.
Mara exhaled sharply.
Lyn squeezed her hands together.
The Seer's eyes narrowed.
Kael raised his voice.
"Accepted."
Relief barely had time to form—
"Category: Unassigned."
The word rippled through the crowd like a dropped blade.
Unassigned.
Whispers erupted instantly.
"That's not a category—"
"Does that mean he failed?"
"I've never heard of that—"
Kael raised a hand.
Silence snapped back into place.
"Unassigned candidates will undergo secondary evaluation," he said. "Until then, they are neither combat nor support."
He looked directly at Rafe.
"They are… variables."
Rafe met his gaze.
Calm.Steady.
"I understand," Rafe said.
Kael's eyes sharpened slightly.
Good answer.
"Next," the instructor called.
Rafe stepped aside.
As he did, someone blocked his path.
A tall boy with silver hair and sharp blue eyes stood in front of him, aura tightly controlled but clearly powerful. He wore a confident smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"So you're the variable," the boy said quietly.
Rafe looked at him.
"And you are?"
The boy placed a hand over his chest mockingly.
"Eiden Valcrest," he said. "Category: Elite Combat."
Mara bristled instantly.
"Elite already? He hasn't even started."
Eiden's eyes flicked to her, dismissive.
"Strength is obvious to those who have it."
Rafe tilted his head slightly.
"And what do you want?"
Eiden smiled wider.
"To see whether you're a mistake," he said softly. "Or a threat."
Rafe didn't smile back.
"Then watch carefully."
Eiden chuckled.
"Oh, I will."
He stepped past Rafe toward the gate, confidence radiating from every movement.
As Rafe rejoined the others, the Seer leaned closer.
"Unassigned is rare," she whispered. "The Academy doesn't know what to do with you."
Rafe stared at the gate.
"Neither do I," he said.
High above them, unseen by the candidates, the Academy's inner wards shifted subtly.
A new entry was written into records older than kingdoms.
VARIABLE: CONFIRMED.
And far away—
The Director smiled.