Astren learned quickly that being allowed to train did not mean being welcomed.
The training grounds were alive at dawn.
Energy crackled through the air as Path-users clashed across floating platforms. Instructors barked commands. Weapons rang. Magic flared. The Ascension Grounds hummed with purpose.
Astren stood apart.
No circle.
No assigned instructor.
No Path to stand under.
Instead, he held the dark metallic token Kaelith had given him. It felt heavier than it looked, its surface cold and faintly warm at the same time.
"Restricted observation zones," Kaelith had said.
Astren didn't know what he would find there.
He activated the token at the edge of the grounds. A soft vibration passed through the air, and a narrow passage opened where solid stone had been moments before.
Astren stepped through.
The world changed immediately.
The sounds of training dulled, like they were being swallowed by distance. The light dimmed. The stone beneath his feet grew uneven, cracked, worn by time rather than use.
This place had not been meant for teaching.
It had been meant for testing.
Astren's breath slowed as the Star Echoes surged.
Here, they weren't whispers.
They were layers.
Footsteps that never reached their destination.
Strikes that ended in screams.
Moments of hesitation that cost everything.
Astren's chest tightened.
This is where people failed, he realized.
He moved carefully, learning to pace himself. The Echoes pressed against his senses, but he didn't fight them. He listened. Let them pass through him rather than into him.
At the center of the chamber stood a circular platform, its surface scarred with countless impact marks. Faint sigils—erased, rewritten, broken—covered the floor.
Astren stepped onto it.
The Echoes reacted instantly.
A memory surged forward.
Two figures clashing. One stronger. One faster. A mistake—a step too far, a strike too wide.
Astren flinched as the vision snapped away.
"Again," he whispered, unsure why.
Another Echo responded.
A different fight. Same ending.
Astren's heart pounded.
They weren't random.
They were patterns.
This is what I'm meant to see, he thought.
Hours passed without him noticing.
When Astren finally stepped back into the main grounds, the sun was higher, the training fiercer. He felt… changed. Not stronger. But sharper.
Someone was waiting for him.
A girl leaned against a stone railing, arms folded, eyes sharp. Short dark hair. Calm posture.
The one who had watched him during the evaluation.
"You disappeared," she said.
Astren stopped. "I was told I could observe."
Her gaze flicked to the token still in his hand.
"So it's true," she murmured. "They're letting you wander."
"What do you want?" Astren asked.
She studied him for a moment longer, then straightened.
"Name's Lyra," she said. "Mind Path. Second Circle."
Astren nodded. "Astren."
"I know."
That alone put him on edge.
"You don't fight like the others," Lyra said. "You react before things happen."
Astren hesitated. "I get lucky."
She smiled faintly. "No one's that lucky."
Before he could respond, a bell rang across the grounds.
Formal duel summons.
Lyra turned toward the sound. "Looks like you're not the only one drawing attention."
Astren followed her gaze.
A candidate stood in the center ring, waiting.
And this time—
The summon was for him.
---
The duel platform was smaller than Astren expected.
No cheering crowd.
No dramatic announcements.
Just stone, air, and eyes watching closely.
"This is a controlled evaluation duel," the instructor announced. "No lethal force."
Astren stepped onto the platform, heart steady but alert.
His opponent followed.
A lean boy with pale hair and calm eyes. Faint blue energy flowed around his hands in precise patterns.
"Calden," the boy said politely. "Third Circle. Flow Path."
Astren nodded. "Astren."
"I know," Calden replied.
That again.
The instructor raised a hand. "Begin."
Calden moved first.
Not fast.
Smooth.
The air bent as streams of controlled force lashed toward Astren. Not wild attacks—measured, probing.
Astren dodged, barely.
The Echoes stirred.
Not loudly. Not urgently.
He tests reactions before committing.
Astren shifted his footing, staying light, conserving energy. He didn't attack. He waited.
Calden frowned slightly.
A second wave came, wider this time. Astren ducked, rolled, felt the force graze past him.
The platform bore new marks.
"Interesting," Calden murmured.
He changed rhythm.
Astren felt it immediately.
The Echoes flared—not memories of Calden, but memories of others who fought like him. Flow Path users who relied too much on control, who hesitated when chaos broke form.
Astren moved into the attack.
Calden's eyes widened as Astren closed the distance suddenly, slamming a palm against the stone—not to strike, but to disrupt footing.
Calden stumbled.
Not much.
But enough.
Astren didn't follow up.
He stepped back.
The watching instructors leaned forward.
Calden steadied himself, breathing slower now. "You're reading me."
Astren said nothing.
The duel stretched on.
Astren took hits. Glancing blows. His arms ached. His lungs burned.
But he didn't panic.
Because the Echoes showed him something important.
Calden's strongest strikes leave him open for a heartbeat.
Astren waited.
When the moment came, he moved—not to attack, but to force Calden to overcommit.
Calden struck.
Astren sidestepped.
Calden froze, realizing too late.
Astren tapped his shoulder.
Not hard.
The instructor's voice rang out. "Match decided."
Silence followed.
Calden stared, stunned—then laughed quietly. "So that's how you fight."
Astren exhaled shakily. "I don't."
Calden bowed his head slightly. "You should."
The instructors exchanged looks.
Not impressed.
Concerned.
Lyra watched from the edge, eyes narrowed in thought.
That night, Astren returned to his quarters exhausted, bruised, but alive.
The Echoes whispered softly.
Not warnings.
Encoura
gement.
He sat on his bed, staring at his hands.
I didn't win by strength, he thought.
I won by listening.
And somewhere deep beneath the Ascension Grounds, something old shifted—aware now that Astren wasn't just surviving anymore.
He was learning.