The chosen one thousand stood in silence before the Hall of Resonance—
a colossal circular structure carved into the heart of the citadel's bedrock. Ancient runes crawled across its walls like frozen lightning. The air hummed softly, not loud enough to hear—but loud enough to feel. Lucius felt it in his chest.
The air felt heavy—thicker than usual. Every breath pressed against his lungs as if the hall was already testing who belonged within its walls.
Rowan stood close by, arms crossed but posture tense. Michael stared at the ground, silently repeating something under his breath. Selene was several rows ahead, her silver hair catching the weak morning light. Lucius noticed her without meaning to
The massive doors of the hall opened inward without a sound.
Cold air spilled out.
Nero Halbrecht stepped forward.
His presence alone quieted the remaining murmurs.
"This ceremony," Nero said, his voice steady and controlled, "does not grant power."
He let the words settle. "It reveals it."
The recruits exchanged uneasy glances.
"Some of you will be chosen," Nero continued. "Some of you will be rejected. And some of you will walk out of this hall changed in ways you will not understand for years."
His gaze hardened.
"If you lie to yourself today—your spirit will reject you."
With a slow motion of his hand, he gestured toward the hall.
"The ceremony begins."
Inside, the hall expanded impossibly wide. The ceiling vanished into darkness, and the floor was smooth black stone that reflected nothing—not even light. At the center stood seven colossal Spirit Pillars, translucent and colorless, humming with restrained force.
Names were called one by one.
A young recruit stepped forward first, trembling as he placed his hand on the nearest pillar. The runes ignited in warm gold, energy coiling around his arm like living fire. A spectral shape—something avian, sharp-winged—briefly formed behind him before fading.
The boy collapsed to his knees, laughing through tears.
Another recruit approached.
This time, the pillar rejected him violently, flinging him backward across the stone floor. He did not rise.
The hall grew quieter with every name.
Rowan Vance was called.
He strode forward with confidence, but Lucius could see tension in his jaw. The moment Rowan touched the pillar, the air shifted violently. Wind roared through the hall, unseen yet powerful, whipping cloaks and hair as if a storm had been unleashed indoors. The runes flared wild and bright.
Rowan staggered, teeth clenched, as something vast and untamed pressed against him—testing him.
Then the wind settled.
Rowan remained standing.
His breath came fast, but his eyes burned with fierce excitement.
Michael followed.
His moment was quieter.
When his hand touched the pillar, a steady glow spread outward, soft but unwavering. No explosion. No force. Just endurance—like stone refusing to crack beneath time. Michael swayed, nearly falling, but remained upright through sheer will.
Lucius felt his chest tighten.
Selene's name echoed through the hall next.
The moment she stepped forward, the temperature dropped. Light bent subtly around her, dimming, as if reluctant to touch her form. When her spirit responded, the runes shimmered with pale silver, flowing like moonlight across water.
For a brief moment, Lucius forgot to breathe.
She never looked back.
His name was called last.
Intentionally.
"Lucius Valeris."
The sound echoed unnaturally long.
Lucius stepped forward, heart pounding, the weight of every gaze pressing into his spine. Each footstep felt louder than the last. The Spirit Pillars stood before him, unmoving—watchful.
He reached out.
The moment his hand touched the pillar—
Nothing happened.
A murmur rippled through the hall.
Lucius frowned, confusion turning to unease.
Then the light vanished.
Not dimmed.
Gone.
The hall was swallowed whole.
Not through air—but through memory, through something deeper than thought. His body struck solid ground with a sharp gasp. Cold rain soaked into his clothes instantly.
He stood alone.
A broken sky stretched endlessly above him, fractured by the same that haunted the real world. The ground beneath his feet was black stone, slick and cracked.
Lucius' breath came ragged.
The ground trembled.
Something moved behind him.
Lucius turned slowly.
A silhouette emerged—not fully formed, not defined. Its presence crushed the air itself, bending space around it. Lucius' knees buckled as an unbearable pressure wrapped around his chest.
Lucius screamed, clutching his head.
The pressure intensified. The silhouette drew closer.
Lucius felt something inside him tear open—not painfully, but irreversibly. A realization settled into his bones.
This thing was not choosing him.
It had always been there.
Watching.
Waiting.
The sky above widened.
Lucius' scream was swallowed by silence. Lucius' body convulsed violently.
A shockwave burst outward, knocking several recruits off their feet.
Then—
Lucius collapsed.
Nero caught him before he struck the stone floor.
The hall fell into stunned silence.
Nero stared down at Lucius, his expression unreadable—yet unmistakably tense.
"The ceremony," he said finally, voice low, "is concluded."
No one moved.
Lucius lay unconscious.
And above the citadel, beyond the roof - the sky - the crack ... it looks creepy as if the beginning of end