The Crucible wasn't just a gymnasium; it was a temple of potential. The air was cool and still, charged not with active power, but with the sheer anticipation of it. Instructor Boros stood before the silent rows of first-year students, his gaze like granite.
"Look at your hands," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "See the unmarked skin, the ordinary bones. Now, understand this: within you lies a seed. A possibility. For most of you, in the coming year, that seed will sprout. It will become your Affinity—the language through which your will converses with the broken, remade world."
He gestured, and a complex, luminous diagram shimmered into existence above his palm. It was a vast, interlocking spectrum of concepts, not a simple pyramid.
"The common tongues are the Elemental Foundations," he said. Sections of the diagram glowed: Earth, Water, Fire, Air. "The world's basic vocabulary. Reliable, powerful in their directness. Then, the more nuanced dialects." Metal, Ice, Lightning, Sound, Nature. "Specialized, offering greater finesse."
The diagram's center brightened. "Then come the profound languages. Light and Dark. Affinities of essence and negation. Spirit, for those who hear the whispers in the wind and the memory in stone. Familiar Bond, a symphony of trust with another soul. Telekinesis, the art of convincing matter to forget its weight."
His eyes grew sharper, and the diagram's edges, intricate and rare, pulsed. "There are languages that paint on the canvas of reality itself. Spatial Affinity. To fold distance, to hold a void in your palm. It is not just moving faster; it is redefining 'here' and 'there.'" A murmur went through the students. Elias kept his face carefully neutral, though the description sent a thrill through him.
"And at the furthest edge of theory," Boros continued, the diagram dimming except for one final, shimmering sigil that seemed to flicker in and out of existence, "is Temporal Affinity. The river of time. To perceive its currents, to alter its flow… this is the domain of myth and Sovereigns. Do not dream of it. Dream of mastering the self, which is the only path to ever mastering any gift."
He let the diagram fade. The Crucible felt suddenly darker, heavier with possibility.
"Your Affinity is your destiny's raw material. But mastery?" Boros slammed a fist into his own palm. The sound was brutally sharp. "Mastery is forged here. In discipline. In knowledge. In the synergy of a honed body and a focused mind. A master of common earth can shatter the careless ambition of a rare spatial talent. Remember that."
He then turned to a large screen, which lit up with a stark, official emblem.
"This brings us to the axis upon which your future turns: the Unified College Entrance Examination. It occurs in one month. It is not a local trial. It is a inter-zone event."
A map of the region appeared, showing their own Safe Zone, Bastion, as one point among several, separated by vast, colored swathes of deadly Interzone.
"The examination has two pillars: Theory and Practical. You will be tested on Cataclysm history, affinity mechanics, Interzone ecology, and geopolitical strategy. And you will be tested here, in The Crucible, on combat, survival drills, and adaptive problem-solving. Your overall score will determine your eligibility for one of the Four Great Colleges, each located in a major Safe Zone of its own."
He listed them, his voice granting each a distinct weight.
"The Astra Militarum, in the fortress-city of Bulwark. They seek strategists and warriors. Their graduates hold the lines."
"The Lyceum of Foundations, in the innovation-hub of New Corinth. They seek engineers, healers, architects of reconstruction."
"The Citadel of Awakening, in the ancient library-city of Atheneum. They seek researchers, theorists, and those who would delve into the deepest mysteries of affinities."
"And Aethelgard," he said, the name hanging in the air. Its location on the map was blurred, uncertain. "They seek the… unconventional. The outliers. Where the other colleges refine, Aethelgard is said to redefine."
The silence was absolute. The world, which had felt like the walls of Bastion, suddenly expanded, terrifying and vast. Their future wasn't just a track within their home; it was a journey across a lethal wilderness to a different bastion of humanity altogether.
"One month," Boros repeated, his final word a stone dropping into still water. "Your bodies are your first affinity. Master them. Your minds are your primary weapon. Sharpen them. Dismissed."
The class broke into a torrent of anxious chatter. Elias walked out in a daze, the theoretical spectrum of affinities swirling with the practical reality of the exam. His friends were already debating—Liam leaning towards the Militarum for the discipline, Kael towards the Lyceum for its solidity, Anya fiercely drawn to the Citadel's promise of power.
Elias listened, but his mind was pulled elsewhere. To the secret rhythm under it all, the one that made the theoretical descriptions of affinities feel intuitive, like a song he already knew the chorus to. And as they stepped out of the academy gates into the twilight, his hidden sense twitched. From the direction of the wild Interzone, that same complex, aware counter-rhythm pulsed through the ground-up noise of the city—a silent, beckoning chord only he could hear.
He had one month. One month to prepare for an exam that would send him across a broken world. And he would have to face it with a body and mind yet unawakened, and a secret that hummed in his bones.