I woke before sunrise. The room was still dark, the silence heavy, only the snores of the other boys filling the space. Today was the mana test day.
Alice had explained it last week: the non‑chosen would be assessed on their ability to shape mana into simple spells. The chosen wouldn't practice magic – they couldn't – but they would undergo a resistance test. Waves of magical pressure, emitted by a circle of runes on the floor. The goal was to stay on one's feet as long as possible, without using divine power.
"Only willpower," she had said. "And control over your own body."
I dressed slowly. The dark tunic, the boots, the iron sword leaning against the wall. My purple hair fell over my eyes, but I didn't feel like tying it back.
'I'm going to fail', I thought. 'Like everything else.'
---
In the corridor, I ran into Zirinos.
He walked with Mira by the hand, his hair half gold, half blood shining in the dim torchlight. The girl carried a piece of paper – a drawing, maybe.
"Today you'll be tested," he said without stopping. "You'll fail. Unless you learn to trust your instinct."
"Trust what? I have no instinct."
He stopped. Mira looked at me curiously.
"You do. You just don't use it. You prefer to think. Tremble. Hesitate." His eyes were cold, calculating. "Instinct doesn't think. It acts."
"And you always act, Zirinos?"
He almost smiled.
"Always."
Mira let go of his hand, took a sweet from her tunic pocket, and offered it to me.
"Do you want it? I took it from Professor Lara's room."
"No, thanks."
"You're strange." She popped the sweet into her mouth. "Zirinos is strange too. But I like strange people."
"Thank you, Mira," I replied, not knowing what else to say.
Zirinos pulled her by the hand.
"Come. Breakfast is waiting."
They disappeared around the corner of the corridor. I stared at the spot where they had been.
'Strange', I thought. 'And dangerous.'
---
The chosen ones' courtyard was full.
Circles of runes drawn on the stone floor, glowing with a faint bluish light. Alice Marévil stood in the centre, dressed in blue robes, her short grey hair pinned at the nape of her neck.
"Good morning, my dears," she said with her usual smile. "Today we are going to test your resistance to magical pressure. The non‑chosen will go first. Then the chosen."
The non‑chosen lined up. Luna, Néris, Zirinos, others I barely knew. One by one, they stepped into the circle. The runes glowed brighter. Invisible waves of pressure – I couldn't see them, but I saw the effects: faces contorting, knees trembling, hands clenching into fists.
Zirinos passed as if it were nothing. He walked through the circle with slow, almost lazy steps. His hair shone. His eyes were fixed on the horizon. Not a wrinkle on his forehead.
"Impressive," someone murmured behind me.
"The best in the class," another replied.
Daniel Daniarólis, sitting on a stone bench, said nothing. He just watched.
Ana, also sitting, kept her eyes on the ground. Anorys's mark did not glow, but the scar on her chest was visible even through her tunic. She didn't look at me. She never looked.
---
"Chosen ones," Alice called. "Come."
I stepped into the circle.
The runes glowed. The pressure came like a wave – not physical, but mental. As if someone were squeezing my skull with invisible hands. My knees buckled.
'Breathe', I ordered myself. 'Breathe and stay on your feet.'
The next wave was worse. My nose began to burn. I tasted blood in my mouth.
I looked sideways. Ana stood motionless, her face pale but firm. Anorys's mark now glowed – a weak red pulse, but visible. She wasn't using divine power, but her body responded for her.
Daniel was tense, but on his feet. Other students – older, stronger – endured the pressure with expressions of controlled effort.
I didn't.
I fell.
My knees hit the stone floor. My hands were flat, trembling. Blood dripped from my nose, falling onto the blue runes.
"Enough," Alice said, her voice calm. "He is not ready."
The pressure vanished. The runes went dark.
The class laughed.
Someone said, "Another disgrace."
I heard Mára Ferão's voice behind me: "Macano's chosen one. Can't even resist a mana test."
I stood slowly. I wiped the blood with my sleeve. I didn't look at anyone.
Alice approached.
"It isn't strength that you lack," she whispered, low, only for me. "It's focus. Your divine power is reacting, but you don't know how to control it. The blood from your nose... it isn't from the magical pressure. It's from your own power trying to get out."
"What?"
"Later. Talk to me after class."
---
In the corridor, on the way to the garden, Zirinos was waiting for me.
Leaning against the stone wall, arms crossed, his hair shining even in the half‑darkness. Mira wasn't with him.
"You're stubborn," he said without preamble. "That's good. Stubborn people learn slower, but they learn better."
"Did you come to mock me?"
"I came to invite you to dinner."
I stopped. I hadn't expected that.
"Dinner?"
"You and me. And if you want, you can bring more people. Students. Friends. People you feel comfortable with."
"I have no friends."
"You have me. Do you want to?"
I looked at him. The handsome face, the cold eyes, the small smile that I couldn't tell whether it was friendly or calculating.
"Why?" I asked. "Why do you want to be my friend?"
"Because you're the only one at the academy who doesn't treat me like a stranger. And because we need allies. War is coming."
"What war?"
"The war against Trussum. Against the Contraranures. Against whoever comes." He pushed himself off the wall. "Think about it. We'll set the dinner for another day. If you come, good. If you don't, that's fine too."
"And where would this dinner be?"
"In the village. There's a tavern, 'The Tired Warrior'. The owner is quiet, the food is good." He walked away. "Until then, Ethan."
"Until then," I replied, my voice hesitant.
I watched him disappear around the corner of the corridor.
'He wants to be my friend', I thought. *Or does he want something from me?'
Suspicion was a knot in my stomach.
But loneliness was worse.
---
The academy's back garden was empty.
The rare flowers, with their thin petals and bluish glow, swayed in the weak wind. I sat on a stone bench, my head throbbing, my nose still burning.
"Ethan?"
Luna Lunos stood at the end of the path, a book in her hand, her silver hair shining.
"Couldn't sleep?" she asked.
"No." She sat down beside me without asking permission. "Neither could I. I read late."
"What did you read?"
"A bestiary. There's a section on Krakeriar. It says the adults are the size of mountains."
"Luckily, the one that appeared at the port was a juvenile."
"Luckily, yes." She closed the book. "I saw the test. Blood came out of your nose."
"Yes."
"You're not weak, Ethan."
"I look it."
"Looking isn't being. My mother used to say that the Erréndias only won after falling many times." She took a sweet from her pocket. "Do you want one?"
"Another sweet? From Lara?"
"I took it this morning. She didn't even see it."
I accepted. The sweet was small, honey‑coloured. It melted on my tongue.
"The Erréndias..." I began. "Did you ever meet any?"
"No. My mother talked about them. She said they were proud, but just. The last count, Arthur, died fifteen years ago. They say he was betrayed."
"Betrayed?"
"By the king. And by Marquis Derylini." Luna lowered her voice. "Don't tell anyone I told you this. My mother forbade me to talk about it."
"I won't tell."
We fell silent. The wind blew. The flowers swayed.
"I like you, Ethan," she said suddenly. "You're strange. But you're a good person."
"I'm not sure."
"I am."
---
Alice Marévil's office was in the west wing, in a small tower overlooking the sea.
She sat me in a wooden chair, lit a candle, and took a dark glass vial from a drawer.
"This is Dessus‑rarir," she said. "The drug that lets you read your status paper."
"I lost the paper."
"I know. But the numbers don't disappear. They are engraved on your soul. If you take this, you will see your status projected in your mind. You won't need the paper." She placed the vial on the table. "I can give it to you. But I have one condition."
"What?"
"You will not use it to run away. You will not use it to think yourself superior. You will use it to train. To know your limits and your weaknesses."
"I accept."
"And one more thing..." She looked into my eyes. "Your divine power is blocked. Not because of the system. Because of you. You don't believe you deserve to be chosen. So your body shuts down."
"How do I change that?"
"By learning to trust yourself. And by accepting that failure is part of it."
I picked up the vial. The blue liquid glowed.
"Take only one drop," she said. "Enough to see the numbers. And save the rest for when you need it."
"Thank you, professor."
"You don't have to thank me. Just… prove that Macano didn't make a mistake in choosing you."
---
In the room, already dark, I sat on the bed. The other boys were asleep.
I opened the vial. I let one drop fall onto my tongue.
The world spun.
The numbers appeared in my mind – not on paper, but as letters of fire engraved in the dark.
| Name: Ethan Mello Young / Race: ??? |
| Normal attributes — /Strength: [10/45] /Stamina: [2/6] /Agility: [20/55] /Speed: [65/100] /Rational Intellect: [85/99] |
| Magic?? — 000/??? |
| Charm — 100/??? |
| Female Repulsion (from the chosen ones of the gods): 101/100!!! |
| Skills: ??? |
| Number of women seduced: 0/??? |
The revulsion was still there. Strength was still low. Stamina, ridiculous.
But something had changed.
'Magic: 000/???' – the zeros glowed. They weren't dead numbers. They were starting points.
I closed my eyes. I memorised the numbers.
'Strength 10. Stamina 2. Agility 20. Speed 65.'
'I will train. I will double these numbers.'
'Even if it's the last thing I do.'
I hid the vial under the mattress. I blew out the candle.
The room went dark.
Outside, the moon shone.
I thought about Zirinos. The invitation. The tavern "The Tired Warrior". The war he said was coming.
'Maybe I'll go. Maybe I won't.''
'But I won't stay alone anymore.'