The white marble of the palace corridors seemed to glow with a cold light as the two groups walked toward the central garden, an area usually forbidden to anyone not of royal blood or part of the High Council. The sound of their footsteps was rhythmic: the metallic clang of Atlas's sword, the rustle of Evelyn's silk, and Zhilian's light, almost feline tread. Hayjin, with his resonance sword thumping against his hip, tried to absorb the atmosphere charged with a tension that could be cut with a knife.
Zhilian, unable to endure that ceremonial silence any longer, quickened her pace until she was at Adeline's side. The leader of the Association walked with royal composure, hands clasped behind her back, gaze fixed on the horizon.
"Grand Master Adeline," Zhilian began, trying to keep her voice steady despite her heart pounding in her ears. "Forgive my persistence, but I cannot accept such a vague answer. Only two teams? Doeken and Opes? This is unprecedented. Where are the qualifying trials? Why did you decide to deprive the other kingdoms of the chance to prove their worth this year?"
Adeline stopped abruptly right at the threshold leading to the gardens. She turned slowly, and for the first time, Hayjin saw in her gaze not just power, but a millennial weariness the same kind he sometimes glimpsed in Rhaegalur.
"Princess Zhilian," Adeline started, her voice dropping an octave, becoming more intimate and grave. "The world of Exilia is no longer what it was years ago. I believe you can see for yourself the consequences the Demon King caused. Do you truly believe his defeat brought peace? That was merely the toppling of a summit. The root of evil is still there, branched out under the skin of our land. Many kingdoms those you call 'absent' are on their knees. They are still trying to count their dead and rebuild the walls of their capitals. They have no mages to send to an exam. They only have people who are very hungry and, above all... very afraid."
She made a sweeping gesture toward the outside, where the lush garden seemed like an insult to the reality she was describing.
"The Mages' Association has held secret talks with the rulers of every continent for months. The conclusion was unanimous and brutal: Exilia does not need more 'Professional Mages' who only know how to perform elementary tricks or ward off a few minor spirits. We need Leaders. We need figures who know how to look into the void and not falter. If we allowed hundreds of mediocre mages to participate, we would only be sending more cannon fodder to the slaughter."
Evelyn of Doeken, who had remained silent until then, stepped forward, crossing her arms. "So this 'special exam' is a forced selection. You are testing the future queens of your respective kingdoms, aren't you?"
Adeline nodded solemnly. "Exactly, Princess Evelyn. You two are not here just for a license. You are here to prove to your people, and to the neighboring kingdoms watching you, that you are actually capable of defending them. Passing this trial will grant exclusive and official advantages to your candidacies for the throne. Whoever successfully completes the mission will receive the Association's diplomatic endorsement, which translates into economic resources, direct military support, and a legitimacy that no political opponent can ever contest."
"In practice," Hayjin intervened, scratching the back of his neck with a touch of sarcasm to ease the pressure, "you're saying this is a kind of election campaign, but instead of flyers and promises, there are monsters trying to rip our heads off. A bit extreme as a system, don't you think?"
Adeline shot Hayjin a sharp look, but not without a glimmer of respect. "The risk is proportionate to the prize, boy. If Zhilian or Evelyn were to fail, it would mean they are not ready to carry the weight of a crown in times of war. Better they fall here, under the eyes of the Association observers, than lead an entire people to annihilation through incompetence."
Zhilian clenched her fists at her sides. Adeline's words were blades digging into her insecurity, but at the same time, they fueled a flame of defiance she didn't know she had. "So it's a race. If Hayjin and I get the license, Opes gets the stability it needs. If Doeken does it..."
"If Doeken does it," Atlas interrupted with a metallic tone, "we will prove that our kingdom is the only true defense left on this ruined continent. Opes has lived too long in the shadow of its own myths, Princess. It is time for reality to overtake legend."
Rhaegalur, who had stood aside observing the scene with crossed arms, let out a low, almost imperceptible growl. "Reality has long teeth, knight. We shall see if your sword can withstand the bite of what hides in there."
"Enough," Adeline decreed, resuming her walk toward the center of the garden, where an ancient structure of stone arches rose in the middle of a perfectly circular clearing. "The reasons have been stated. The pact is sealed between your kingdoms and the Association. There is no turning back. Opes and Doeken are two sides of a coin that will decide the future of Exilia. Now, prepare yourselves. The portal will not wait any longer."
As they approached the stone arch, which began to glow with an unstable, violet light, Hayjin leaned toward Zhilian and whispered in her ear: "Hey, look on the bright side. If we win, you get a discount on the army for the next ten years. Not a bad bonus, right?"
Zhilian hinted at a smile, a small flash of light in the gloom of her worry. "Shut up and keep your sword ready, Hayjin. I have a feeling we'll have to sweat for those bonuses more than expected."
The central garden of Opes' royal palace, usually a sanctuary of peace and floral scents, had transformed into an arena of raw power. The emerald grass was crushed by the iron boots of those present, while the air itself seemed to grow thick, electrified by a tension that made the hair on Hayjin's arms stand up.
Adeline stopped at the center of a circular clearing paved in obsidian. She raised her hands toward the sky and, without uttering a single word, unleashed a wave of mana so pure that even Hayjin, usually blind to magical energies, felt a crushing pressure on his chest. In front of the two groups, space began to tear. Two vertical rifts of unstable lightbone an icy blue and the other a deep purple opened in the void, revealing glimpses of worlds that did not belong to the known geography of Alius.
"Here are your gates," Adeline began, her voice now carrying the weight of the Association's supreme authority. "These are not mere dungeons. They are 'Mirror Dimensions' created to test not only your strength but your ability to understand the unknown."
She turned toward the four candidates, staring at them one by one. "The rules are simple, but their execution will be your hell. The primary objective to complete the exam is to retrieve a Special Magical Object hidden in the heart of each dungeon. I will not tell you what it is. I will not tell you what shape it takes. That is part of the trial: you must identify it using your instinct and your analytical capacity."
Hayjin crossed his arms, exchanging a quick look with Zhilian. "So it's a treasure hunt where we don't even know what we're looking for? Fantastic, exactly the kind of fun I wanted..."
Evelyn of Doeken gripped her magic staff, her gaze fixed on the blue portal. "And as for the competition? Who gets the license?"
"The first team that manages to cross the return portal bringing the object to the examiners wins," Adeline replied with a coldness that chilled Zhilian's blood. "Only the first team will obtain the Professional Grade license today. Whoever comes in second, or whoever fails in the dungeon, will not only have to retake the exam in a year but will lose all the political advantages and funding for their kingdom that we discussed earlier. In this challenge, there is no place for the runner-up."
"Wait a minute," Zhilian intervened, taking a step forward. "Are you saying that if we complete the trial but Evelyn and Atlas arrive five minutes before us, all our effort will have been useless for my candidacy for the throne?"
"Exactly, Princess," Varek replied from the group of Sages, with a thin, malicious smile. "History is written by the winners, not by those who came close. If you want to be leaders, you must be the best, not simply 'good enough'."
Hayjin felt a flush of heat rise to his face. He adjusted his sword strap and stepped closer to Zhilian, speaking in a low voice that the others could still hear. "Hey, don't listen to him. Speed is a variable, but precision is a constant. If we run like madmen and fall into a trap, we won't bring home a thing. We'll analyze the dungeon, find the logical shortcut, and that protector... well, we'll kick its ass for sure, you can count on it."
Atlas Altavilla let out a scornful grunt. "Brave words for someone who has practically nothing. Evelyn, let's go. Let's not waste any more time with these amateurs."
Evelyn, however, decided to wish Hayjin and Zhilian the best anyway. "Please forgive my knight's behavior. May the best team win, and good luck with the trial."
"I... thank you, haha. Good luck to you too," Zhilian said, strangely surprised by that kindness.
"Don't worry... you can bet we'll win. And after we do, we'll shove our victory in your face, haha," Hayjin said with an arrogance that clearly annoyed Atlas.
Before the boundary between realities opened definitively, Adeline imposed a final moment of stasis. The garden of Opes, charged with the electric hum of the portals, became the stage for a confrontation that was not about magic, but will. The two groups stood a few meters apart, studying each other like predators before a necessary hunt.
Evelyn of Doeken stepped forward. Her elegance was not ostentatious; it was an intrinsic part of her bearing, as if every gesture had been polished by years of etiquette and pain. She approached Zhilian with a gentle, almost melancholic calm that caught the Princess of Opes off guard.
"Zhilian," Evelyn began, her voice soft as silk. "Looking at you, I see the fire that everyone describes in the tales about Opes. It is admirable."
Zhilian stiffened her shoulders, suspicious. "I'm not here to receive compliments, Evelyn. We're rivals, or have you forgotten?"
"I haven't forgotten," Evelyn replied with a sad smile. "But I wanted you to know there is no hatred in me. For me, this exam is the last lifeline. My people in Doeken are divided; they see me as a fragile figure, a glass princess in a kingdom that worships only the raw strength of Magic Knights. If I don't get this license, if I don't prove I am the leader the Association requires, I will never be accepted as Queen. I would remain just an ornament in an empty throne room. I must win to give meaning to my name."
Zhilian looked her in the eyes, seeing for an instant the loneliness shared by anyone born with a destiny already written. But then, the thought of Wren, of the Sages who wanted to banish Hayjin, and of the future of Opes shook her.
"I understand your burden, Evelyn. I truly do," Zhilian countered, her voice growing harder, vibrating with a passion the girl from Doeken didn't seem to possess. "But my motivations are much deeper than a simple need for acceptance. I don't want the throne for myself. I want it because Opes is rotting from within, because my sister is destroying herself due to ancient laws, and because there are those who have staked their lives on my vision. I won't let you win because mine isn't an ambition; it is a vital necessity. I won't let this opportunity slip away, even if I have to crawl out of that dungeon with my fingernails."
Evelyn nodded slowly, her expression returning to an inscrutable mask. "Then let destiny decide which of us has the greater burden to bear."
Not far away, the air was much less diplomatic. Atlas Altavilla towered over Hayjin, his white tunic reflecting the violet light of the portal. The knight didn't seem angry; on the contrary, he looked at Hayjin with a kind of academic pity that annoyed the boy more than an insult would have.
"You should leave, stranger," Atlas said, his deep voice seeming to vibrate in the ground. "It's not a request, nor an order. Consider it sincere advice. I have seen men with ten times your mana end up reduced to ash within minutes inside a Mirror Dimension. What you are doing isn't courage; it's assisted suicide."
Hayjin stuck his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels with an air of feigned nonchalance. "Sincere advice, huh? Thanks, 'buddy'. I'm touched. But you see, I come from a place where we don't have dragons or fireballs, yet we built cities that touch the clouds and vehicles that fly faster than sound. Without a single drop of mana."
Atlas shook his head, his hand nervously gripping the hilt of his greatsword. "Logic won't protect you when an Ancient Protector tries to tear out your soul. You are an anomaly to me, an error in this system. Go back to living a quiet life, I'm telling you for your own good. Write your books, live your life as you see fit. Don't risk an atrocious end for a glory you cannot handle."
Hayjin stopped smiling. His gaze became sharp, cold as silicon. "You see, Atlas, your problem is that you're convinced a person's value is measured by how bright their magic tank glows. It's lazy thinking. I compensate for the lack of mana with a weapon that you, evidently, never learned to use: a brain. You're a hammer, and you see the world as a nail. But what happens when you meet a screw? What do you do when brute force isn't enough and you need... well, a bit of mental flexibility?"
Atlas grit his teeth, jaw clenched. "Are you implying that my dedication to the magic knights is inferior to your... stupid intellectual arrogance?"
"I'm implying that if you didn't have that tunic to hold you together, you'd probably struggle to solve a puzzle for three-year olds," Hayjin shot back with a tone so mocking it was intolerable. "Basically, you're just a very expensive, well-polished paperweight."
The shame was too great. With a lightning-fast movement, Atlas unsheathed his sword. The blade emitted a vibrating hum, charging with blinding white energy. "Take back those words, mannikin! No one insults the Altavilla lineage and lives to tell the tale!"
The knight moved to charge, but before he could take a single step, a wall of invisible magical pressure crushed him to the ground, forcing him to his knees.
"Enough!" Adeline's voice thundered through the garden, charged with a force that made the tree leaves tremble. The leader of the Association stood still, but her eyes glowed with ancient power. "Atlas, sheathe that sword immediately. I will not allow blood to be spilled before the trial has even begun. You are a Knight of Doeken; behave like one."
Atlas, panting from the effort of resisting Adeline's pressure, sheathed his sword with a localized gesture of rage, casting Hayjin a look full of promised hatred.
"If you survive that portal," Atlas hissed in a low voice, "I will challenge you to a formal duel. And there, there will be no Sages or Grand Masters to protect you."
Hayjin straightened his tunic collar, unbothered by the danger. "Oh, I can't wait. It'll be fun seeing how long it takes me to destroy you."
Adeline sighed, looking at the two groups with a mix of exasperation and expectation. "The verbal confrontation is over. If you want to prove who is right, do it in the dungeon. The portals are closing. Enter, now!"
Zhilian grabbed Hayjin by the arm, dragging him toward the purple rift. "Always making friends, aren't you?"
"It's my natural charm, Princess. I can't help it," he replied, as together they prepared to cross the threshold of the unknown dimension.
The two from Doeken headed toward the blue portal without giving them a further glance. Atlas, before entering, turned only for an instant toward Zhilian. "See you on the other side, Princess Zhilian. And you, kid... try not to get killed. It would be a shame not to be able to celebrate my victory over your corpse." And with a fluid step, they disappeared into the light.
Zhilian was trembling slightly, but it wasn't fear. It was pure rage, distilled into determination. She turned toward Hayjin and then toward Rhaegalur, who had remained watching the scene with monumental calm.
"Boy," Rhaegalur said, placing a heavy hand on Hayjin's shoulder. "Remember what I told you. The dungeon is like a living organism. Don't strike where you see; strike where you feel the structure is fragile. And you, Zhilian... don't let the haste to surpass Evelyn make you forget who you are. You are a descendant of the past rulers of this kingdom. Act as such."
Adeline pointed to the purple portal. "It is your turn. The trial begins now."
Hayjin held out his hand to Zhilian. "Ready to mess up the Association's plans and give Varek a nervous breakdown?"
Zhilian grabbed his hand, squeezing it with surprising strength. "More than ready, Hayjin. Let's show them what happens when logic meets the fire of Opes."
Together, with a synchronized breath, they crossed the threshold of the purple portal. The sensation was that of being taken apart and put back together in an instant. The garden of Opes vanished, replaced by a biting cold and a silence that seemed to weigh tons. Before them stretched a corridor made of mirrors and obsidian, where their reflected images seemed to have a life of their own.
The exam had officially begun. And the clock was already ticking.