The officers had him by both arms. Landen had been testing that arrangement for the last ten minutes.
It wasn't working.
"Let me go!" He twisted hard, got nowhere, twisted again. "You really think death is a fair punishment for streaking?!"
The officer on his left said something — calm, explanatory, completely useless.
"I don't know what you're saying," Landen snapped. "I don't know what anyone is saying!"
They ignored him and kept dragging him down the corridor.
Back at the detention center, a medical examination had put his age somewhere between seventeen and eighteen. In this world, that meant one thing: mandatory enrollment. Every person within that age range was required to attend a military academy until they were eligible to be drafted at twenty.
The school was enormous — over four thousand acres sprawling just outside the city. Classrooms, research facilities, housing for students and faculty, vast training grounds, specialized arenas. At its heart stood one of the largest battle arenas in the region, capable of hosting major professional tournaments.
But this wasn't just any school. Aegis Vanguard Military Academy was the highest-ranking institution in the nation. Its students weren't admitted — they were scouted, recommended, chosen. And today, coincidentally, was freshman orientation.
Thousands had come from across the country to be here.
The corridor opened into the arena, and the noise hit Landen like a wall. Hundreds — no, thousands — of voices blurring into a single roar. Then the announcer spoke, and the sound shifted: anticipatory, hungry, electric.
"Please welcome to the stage — Chief Marshal Vanderbilt."
The crowd erupted.
From the side of the stage, an older man emerged. He moved without hurry, as though he had all the time in the world. A long white beard flowed down his chest. In one hand he carried a heavy wooden staff. Over his frame hung an aged green robe — simple in design, but carrying something harder to define.
It wasn't his appearance that silenced the room. It was his presence. The moment he stepped fully onto the stage, the atmosphere changed, and the crowd quieted without being asked.
He stopped at the center, planted his staff against the ground —
Thud.
The sound rang through the arena. Silence followed. He let it sit there, scanning the crowd, unhurried, until every eye was on him.
Then he spoke.
"Sons and daughters, warriors and mages. Future leaders of this land. Welcome to Aegis Vanguard Military Academy."
The crowd roared — and he raised one hand, barely, and they quieted again.
"This academy was not built for comfort. It was built for one purpose. To create legends."
"From these halls have risen names that shaped history—General Saud, Captain Warrior Zeus, and many more. They were not born extraordinary. They stood where you stand now—unproven, uncertain, yet filled with possibility."
"And today, you stand at the same beginning they once did."
Landen couldn't understand a word of it. He tracked the crowd instead. They were leaning forward, hanging on every pause.
"You were chosen because you carry potential. But do not misunderstand me—potential is not strength. It will not win wars. It will not protect your loved ones. It will not carve your name into history."
"But at Aegis, we will push you to your full potential and beyond. You will face trials that will test your will, your strength, and your mind. You will struggle. You will doubt yourselves. And in those moments…you will decide who you truly are."
He raised the staff.
"So I ask you—will you remain as you are?... Or will you rise beyond what you ever believed possible?"
He drove the staff against the ground.
Boom.
The arena shook with it. No one moved. No one breathed.
"From this day forward, you are no longer children chasing dreams." He opened his arms wide. "You are warriors in the making. This is your moment — to carve your name into history."
The silence held for one suspended second.
Then the arena exploded.
The roar that followed was deafening — waves of sound crashing over each other, raw excitement and burning ambition pouring out all at once. This was why they were here. The strongest warriors stood at the peak of society — respected, wealthy, revered above almost everyone else. They were the leaders and protectors of the land. People looked up to them as role models. As heroes.
And now, for the first time, that path stood open in front of them.
Vanderbilt gave a final nod and walked to the back of the stage, settling into his seat. A woman came forward to take his place, but Landen's eyes stayed fixed on the old man. There was something about him — something Landen had never felt from another person before. Something that didn't quite fit the world he knew.
He couldn't name it.
As Landen's group moved along the side of the arena, students began to notice them. Heads turned one by one. Landen stared back, expression hard and unyielding. He was convinced he was being marched to his execution — and the idea that these people might find entertainment in watching someone die filled him with cold contempt.
Whispers rippled outward.
"Look at the prisoner. He's in a red jumpsuit."
"Red means extremely dangerous."
"Why would they bring someone like that here?"
"He looks like he's going to his execution."
"I made eye contact with him — I think I'm going to have nightmares."
On stage, the woman continued without pause. She was Professor Celestine Varro — middle-aged, with a quiet elegance she seemed to deliberately downplay behind a pair of glasses and a long black ponytail. She was rarely seen without a large book tucked under her arm.
At the moment, she was explaining the first test.
"This is an Essence Reader," she said, gesturing to a large machine beside her. Its front featured a wide barrel-like structure resembling a cannon, with a display panel mounted along its side. "This device measures the energy within your dantian. For those unfamiliar with the term, allow me to explain."
She pressed a button on her controller. An image appeared on the main screen — a human figure, rendered in clean lines.
"This represents your body. At its core is the source of all your power — the dantian."
The image zoomed inward.
"Within the dantian, your energy exists in three forms. On the left: light energy. In the center: soul energy. On the right: dark energy. Light and dark energy are the sources of your power. Soul energy governs your abilities, your attributes, your overall capabilities."
She turned back to the machine. "The Essence Reader measures your combined light and dark energy and uses that total to determine your Essence Grade."
The screen changed, displaying a table:
Grade: Total Energy Level
Civilian: 0–10
Elementary 1: 11–50
Elementary 2: 50–100
Elementary 3: 100–200
Intermediate 1: 200–400
Intermediate 2: 400–1,000
Intermediate 3: 1,000–2,000
"As incoming students, we expect most of you to fall somewhere within these seven grades. For the majority, this is where you will remain for the rest of your lives." She let the words sit for a moment. "A few of you, however, will surpass them entirely and enter what we call the elite grades."
The screen shifted again:
Advance
Master
Grand Master
Renowned
As the presentation continued, Landen's group moved steadily along the edge of the stage. Ahead was a door leading out of the arena. To the left was the entrance to the stage itself.
Left means the stage. Straight means the exit.
He kept his eyes forward.
Don't turn left.
They kept walking.
Don't turn left.
Closer.
Don't turn left.
They went straight — and Landen exhaled for the first time in what felt like hours. But just as the officer in front reached for the door, the one behind him stopped and addressed a man standing nearby.
"We have a meeting with Chief Marshal Vanderbilt."
The doorman pointed toward the stage.
Landen's stomach dropped. "No—"
A hand shoved him from behind, and he stumbled forward — out through the entrance and directly onto the stage.