The next morning, Nev woke before the sun had fully risen. The house was quiet, still wrapped in the soft darkness of early dawn. He washed, dressed, and stepped into the hallway where a servant waited with a lantern. The light flickered against the walls as they moved toward the carriage waiting outside. Today was not training with Rian yet. Today was the final part of the Holder Assessment, the part that would decide whether Nev officially entered the ranks of Tier 1.
The streets were almost empty when they reached the Testing Hall. Mist curled over the stone walkway, fading as the first hints of sunlight touched the edges of the city. The hall doors were open. Several trainees already stood inside, stretching or speaking softly. More would arrive soon.
Nev walked in quietly. As he stepped across the threshold, he felt dozens of eyes shift toward him. Conversations slowed. Whispers rose and fell like waves.
"That is him."
"The one who broke the plate yesterday."
"They say his pattern was unreadable."
Some watched with curiosity. Some with jealousy. A few with quiet fear.
Nev ignored them, taking a place at the edge of the hall. He searched the threads drifting in the air. Some were stable, trained, refined. Others were faint and unshaped. His shard pulsed once, as if reminding him to be alert.
A young man approached him. He carried a wooden staff and wore training clothes fitted tightly around his arms and shoulders. His expression was neutral, but his eyes were sharp. "You made quite an impression yesterday," he said.
Nev simply nodded.
"I hear they are bringing in an actual combat trial today," the man continued. "Means we fight each other for the tier ranking."
Nev lifted one eyebrow. "Do you know who I will face?"
"Not yet," the man said. "But they will not give you anyone weak after what you did."
Before Nev could respond, a loud clap echoed across the hall. The instructor in grey robes had entered. His presence demanded silence without effort.
"All candidates," he announced, "today you complete your Holder evaluation. You passed the written and energy tests. The final test is combat."
He walked toward the reinforced ring at the center of the hall. Wooden barriers formed a wide circle around it, polished from years of practice.
"You will enter this ring and face another trainee in controlled combat. Do not aim to kill. Do not aim to cripple. You must simply last one minute or force your opponent into surrender. Passing this test grants you Tier 1."
The murmurs grew louder.
Nev watched the instructor's calm, measured steps. Then the man lifted a paper sheet.
"First match. Nev Nolen versus Garron ."
The hall fell silent.
Somebody cursed under their breath. "He got Garron? Seriously?"
Others stepped back instinctively, as though distance might soften the shock.
Nev turned slowly.
The man walking forward was taller, broad-shouldered, and carried the cold certainty of someone who had won many fights. His short, dark hair framed a sharp face. He cracked his neck once. His steps were steady and confident. Every trainee in the hall seemed to recognize him.
Someone whispered near Nev, "He is brutal. The instructors call him the Steel Hound. You do not want to face him."
Another voice added, "He is Tier 0 but fights like Tier 1. He has knocked out people older than him."
None of this changed Nev's expression.
Garron stepped into the ring first. He pointed at Nev with two fingers. "Try not to fall too fast. I want this to be interesting."
Nev entered the ring quietly. He tested the floor with his foot. Solid. Flat. Clean. Garron tightened his stance, shifting into a ready position that came from hard practice.
The instructor raised his hand.
"Begin."
Garron moved instantly. No hesitation. His first strike was a straight thrust toward Nev's chest, clean and fast. Nev stepped sideways, but not because he saw the body move. He saw the thread connected to Garron's shoulder tighten a half-second before the strike. It warned him like an echo before the sound.
Garron narrowed his eyes and circled, switching his weight. His second attack was a sweeping kick. This time, Nev caught the faint vibration in the air before the leg even lifted. He leaned back and the kick missed by inches.
The watching trainees began whispering again.
"Did he predict that?"
"No one dodges Garron's first two attacks."
Garron did not slow. He stepped in with a sharp elbow aimed for Nev's jaw. Nev ducked smoothly. His movement was clean, practiced, but not from this life. It came from the shard, from the instinct he received the moment Ardon cut him down. Something inside him remembered the angle of fast strikes, the rhythm of danger. He moved as if guided by invisible markers.
Garron backed up, now genuinely surprised. "You move well. Better than yesterday. Lucky guesses maybe."
Nev did not answer. He watched Garron's threads instead. They were bright and tense, full of aggression. Each movement came with a small vibration. Nev began to understand the pattern.
The instructor watched them both carefully.
Garron stepped forward again, more aggressive this time. He swung with his right hand, then followed with a quick knee strike. Nev dodged both. Garron's expression darkened. He had trained for years. He had broken ribs, cut his fists on stone, fought until he bled to rise in skill. And here was someone who had never been seen in the training yard, avoiding his blows with ease.
Anger crept into Garron's face.
Nev saw the change instantly. His threads flared, vibrating harder. There was killing intent now. It tasted different in the air. Sharper.
Garron lunged.
Nev shifted his weight.
Garron swung left.
Nev stepped right.
Garron swept low.
Nev hopped lightly over the leg.
Silence filled the hall. Not awe, not excitement. Confusion. Fear.
One trainee whispered, "He is reading Garron like a book."
"He is not Tier 0," another muttered. "No one moves like that at Tier 0."
The minute had not even reached halfway yet.
Garron roared in frustration and activated his Holder spark. A faint glow formed around his right arm. It was a basic Tier 0 ability, but it increased speed. His next punch was faster, sharp enough to knock out a normal trainee instantly.
Nev saw the thread tighten. He saw its direction before Garron moved. He stepped aside and Garron's punch cut through empty air. Nev countered with a light tap to Garron's wrist.
It was not a strike. It was a correction of balance.
But Garron stumbled. He tried to recover. Nev stepped in again, moved behind him, and placed a hand on Garron's shoulder with perfect timing.
A simple push.
Controlled. Soft. Intentional.
Garron fell forward and hit the ground with his palms. The hall gasped.
Nev stepped back calmly.
Garron rose with rage in his eyes. "Do not play with me."
Nev studied him quietly. That was when he felt something shift. The shard pulsed, sending a focused warmth up his spine. His vision sharpened. The threads brightened. Even Garron's heartbeat felt clearer through the air.
Nev exhaled.
Garron attacked again, but this time Nev did not dodge. He reached toward Garron's swinging arm and tapped it at the perfect moment, redirecting the strike. Then he twisted lightly, placing his foot behind Garron's leg. Garron collapsed again.
A murmur moved through the hall.
"That is not luck."
"That is technique."
"That is… unnatural."
Garron struggled back up, but the instructor stepped forward.
"That is enough," he said.
Garron froze, breathing heavily.
Nev stood with steady calm.
The instructor raised his hand. "Winner of the match, Nev Nolen."
The hall erupted. Some clapped. Some stared. Some whispered. A few stepped back, uncertain whether to admire or fear him.
Garron glared at Nev with a look that promised future conflict, then walked out of the ring, defeated for the first time in years.
Nev simply waited, breathing evenly, the shard still warm inside him.
The instructor stepped forward again, holding a small bronze card. "Nev Nolen has passed all three assessments. He is now a recognized Tier 1 Holder."
The hall fell silent again.
A boy who no one had heard of until yesterday.
A boy who shattered the test plate.
A boy who outmaneuvered the Steel Hound.
Tier 1.
In a single day.
The instructor handed him the Holder Card. It was engraved with:
Name: Nev Nolen
Tier: 1
Affinity: Unaligned Pattern
Note: Requires monitoring
Nev slid the card into his pocket calmly.
But the moment he did, the air shifted.
Footsteps echoed behind them. Heavy. Controlled.
Nev turned slowly.
A man entered the hall wearing black training robes marked with the Obsidian Order insignia. His presence filled the space like cold water. His gaze drifted across the hall, then stopped on Nev.
Nev felt the threads around him tremble.
Not from fear.
From something else.
Recognition.
The same pattern he once saw in the void pulsed faintly around the man's wrist.
Rian walked out from behind him and said quietly to the man, "You arrived early."
The officer did not take his eyes off Nev.
"Is that the boy?"