The main hall of the Vileth Estate was draped in banners of crimson and grey. Today was the Day of Selection, the moment where the branch family children were tested for their "Aptitude."
In the center of the hall stood a massive, jagged crystal of Aetherite. It was a relic from the early Golden Era, sensitive to all three forms of energy, though the Vileths only used it to measure Aura potential.
Azrakar stood in line, his expression a mask of bored indifference. Ahead of him, children were stepping up, placing their hands on the crystal, and watching it glow.
"Boran Vileth! Rank: Copper. Path: Knight!" the herald shouted.
"Elara Vileth! Rank: Iron. Path: Knight!"
Most were mediocre. In this era, the bar for "talent" was incredibly high because resources were so abundant. Being an "Iron" rank knight at ten was considered the bare minimum to stay in the clan.
Then came Kaelen. He stepped up, his face still pale from his encounter with Azrakar, but his eyes were burning with a need to reclaim his dignity. He slammed his hand onto the crystal.
It flared a bright, vibrant silver.
"Kaelen Vileth! Rank: Silver! Path: Knight!"
A murmur went through the hall. Silver rank at ten meant he was a genius who could potentially reach the "Grandmaster" stage of Aura before the age of thirty. Kaelen looked back at Azrakar, a smug, vengeful grin returning to his face.
"Azrakar Vileth. Step forward," the herald commanded.
Azrakar walked to the crystal. He saw his father, Lord Varick Vileth, sitting on the high dais. Varick was a man of stone—stern, distant, and disappointed by Azrakar's lack of physical growth. He didn't even lean forward; he expected a failure.
Azrakar placed his hand on the cold surface of the Aetherite.
If I show my true power, the crystal will shatter, and the Mage-Kings from the South will be at our gates by morning, Azrakar thought. I need to be 'useful' but not 'dangerous.'
He manipulated the Trinity Circuit. He suppressed the Mana in his heart and the Qi in his Dantian, burying them deep beneath a layer of stagnant Aura. He allowed just enough energy to leak out to mimic a "stable" but uninspiring result.
The crystal flickered. It turned a dull, muddy Bronze.
"Azrakar Vileth... Rank: Bronze. Path: Knight."
The hall was silent. Bronze was a "pity" rank. It meant he had enough talent to be a foot soldier, but never a leader. He saw his father look away, his jaw tightening in shame.
Azrakar didn't care. The Bronze rank meant he would be assigned to the "Archive Guards"—a low-level post that gave him unrestricted access to the clan's library and the freedom to leave the estate for "patrols."
"Pathetic," Kaelen whispered as Azrakar walked back to the line.
"Is it?" Azrakar replied, his eyes never leaving the exit. "While you spend your days swinging a heavy sword under the sun, I will be in the shade, learning things you couldn't comprehend in ten lifetimes."
He had achieved exactly what he wanted: invisibility.