Draven’s grin was wide and innocent. Zephyrion could see no falsehood in him. He looked like a massive baby who wore his emotions plainly for all to see. Zephyrion saw no reason not to accept.

He gripped his arm. Draven’s muscles flexed, his grin widening.

Another test.

Yet Zephyrion remained unmoved despite the mounting pressure. He tightened his grip.

Crack.

Draven winced. A tear slipped from the corner of his eye. He quickly pulled his arm back. Zephyrion let him.

"Haha... you’re a real man! A real man!" Despite his broken wrist, he grinned. "Draven knew it! We’re going to be brothers!"

Then Draven glanced over at Lumi, who had been glaring at him ever since he tried to crush Zephyrion’s hand. She immediately stuck out her tongue, staring at his crushed wrist with amusement.

Yet Draven merely chuckled.

"Little girl, are you sure you’re not a man in disguise? You picked Draven up like he weighed nothing. No normal little girl should be able to do that. You must secretly be a man!"

Zephyrion frowned. Something about this irritated him.

Lumi scoffed and tossed her hair over her shoulder, making a deliberate show of being a regal and graceful woman.

Regal was not a word Zephyrion would use to describe Lumi, but he kept that thought to himself. Instead, his calm gaze had gradually become a glare.

Draven didn’t seem to notice.

"Haha!" He laughed. "Ah! Draven understands now. You’re a woman! A very beautiful woman! Cute too. And strong! Very strong!"

Lumi immediately lifted her chin.

Zephyrion frown deepened.

Draven paused, going over something in his head. Then he nodded to himself as though he had reached an important conclusion.

"We can’t be brothers because you’re a woman." He stretched out his massive hand for a handshake. "But we can be friends! Great friends! What do yo—"

"Something’s happening."

Zephyrion’s voice came out colder than intended, but he didn’t care.

Eyes turned ahead toward a grand gate, its walls stretching endlessly across the horizon. Above it, a countdown clock had appeared.

"Ah! You’re right! Finally, we’ve been waiting forever!"

Draven completely forgot what he had been saying. He gave them a broad wave before hurrying over to the other Hartvain youths.

The irritation in Zephyrion’s chest gradually faded. He frowned, briefly wondering where the sudden emotion had come from. But he soon dismissed the thought and refocused.

The appearance of the countdown clock had shifted the mood in the clearing. Many began stretching while others never took their eyes off the timer.

The military academy was famous for its brutal methods. Usually, half the children sent here dropped out, bringing shame upon their families.

"Ah, did they really have to use a countdown? This is horrible. My heart’s been pounding since we got here."

Tobias wiped his damp palms against his pants before dragging a sleeve across his sweaty face. He was visibly nervous. To his credit, though, he had been like this since they left the estate.

"I agree." Fiona swallowed. "Why not just start already? It’s like they’re deliberately trying to make everyone nervous."

"Probably because they want us prepared," Kaiden said. "Whatever’s coming must be a pretty big deal."

Tobias and Fiona immediately paled. Kaiden froze. Realizing what he had just done, he cleared his throat.

"Or not. Maybe it’s nothing. Probably nothing. Look, no matter what they throw at us, we’ve been through worse at Calderalth. Anyone who survives training with that madman can survive anything."

Fiona visibly relaxed. He was right. Garrick’s training was by no means conventional. He pushed their bodies to the limit every single day. Could anything really be worse than that?

’Yes.’

Zephyrion had experienced worse at the Order. None of them had ever trained until collapse. Until their bodies could no longer move.

Tobias’ face, however, remained devoid of color. He was the only one among them who had never experienced Garrick’s training, after all.

"Take only what’s necessary and ditch the rest," Zephyrion said to Tobias, whose gaze kept drifting back to his massive bag.

"Bu—"

"If you fall behind, you’ll be kicked out of the academy. There’s nothing anyone can do about it."

Harsh, but true. In this case, his ward needed it.

Tobias paled and quickly nodded. Dropping the bag to the ground, he rummaged through towels, folding chairs, and all sorts of junk no one would realistically need before finally finding what he was looking for.

A small bag of sweets.

He seemed to notice Zephyrion’s lingering gaze and immediately flushed. Without a word, he stuffed the sweets into one of his cargo pockets as though hiding evidence of a crime.

Zephyrion didn’t bother saying anything. He turned toward the timer.

One minute left.

The other Calderalth youths had gathered behind him. Descendants of high houses stood all around them, surrounded by thousands of youths from across the South.

Every eye was fixed on the clock.

Waiting.

Then the timer hit zero.

Zephyrion tensed. There was no telling what was coming.

Lumi had stopped holding his arm and was staring around cautiously. Tobias, Kaiden, and Fiona were no different.

The grand gates groaned. Again. Then again. Then stopped.

’What?’

The gates remained closed. The timer sat at zero. Zephyrion swept his gaze across the clearing. Nothing. Nothing was happening.

He frowned and looked back at the gate. He couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that it was supposed to have opened. Why else would it groan?

’A malfunction?’

Such a thing happening in a place as grand as the military academy was unheard of. Zephyrion quickly discarded the thought and began searching for another explanation.

The walls and gates were covered entirely in runes. Scaling them was impossible. Unless the gate opened, they were not getting in.

Were they simply supposed to wait?

The other youths were clearly thinking the same thing, glancing around in confusion while trying to figure out what they had missed.

After quietly sharing his conclusions with the others, they decided to wait. There was nothing else they could do.

Two minutes passed.

Then the gate groaned once more before finally swinging open. One word floated out from beyond.

Run.

"I’m going ahead."

Zephyrion shot forward, his legs becoming a blur.

Panicked shouts erupted behind him, followed by loud thuds as youths scrambled into motion.

He passed through the gates. A resonant hum washed over him, severing his connection to the World Pulse.

’A scrambler.’

His body immediately felt heavier, yet he did not slow. He hadn’t been using the element to move in the first place. He sprinted at full speed, wind whipping through his hair and clothes.

The countdown. The two-minute delay. This was the southern gate. That meant there were three other gates for the remaining regions.

The countdown existed to ensure everyone started at the same time.

Two minutes. They were two minutes behind.

He kicked off the ground and accelerated. The world blurred. His feet touched the earth less and less, each stride carrying him dozens of normal steps. Vast fields flashed past. Forests thick with obstacles and towering trees. He swam against the heavy current of a river before scaling a sheer cliff face and cresting the hill beyond.

There, he paused. A few people stood gathered below. He exhaled through his nose, then resumed running, reaching them moments later.

A tall platform had been erected in the middle of the vast plain. Numerous men in pure black uniforms stood at attention around it. His gaze shifted toward the three figures standing apart, in different directions from the platform. They wore the same black tops and cargo pants.

Cadets.

He was fourth. However, each had arrived from a different region. North. West. East. In this case, he was last.

Zephyrion allowed none of his irritation to show as he calmly took his place.

Then he studied the others.

The dynasty houses were notorious for hiding their descendants, especially their most talented ones. It prevented assassination attempts and ensured they focused on training rather than reputation.

Calderalth was the exception.

Usually, the military academy was where everything was revealed. Where the hidden blades and secret weapons of the dynasty houses finally stepped into the light.

To the north stood a youth with a serene, almost detached air about him. He was freakishly tall. Taller even than Zephyrion. Half-lidded crimson eyes rested beneath dark brows.

The great Faith house.

Sarakhel.

To the west stood a tall girl with half her head shaved while the remaining hair had been carefully groomed and swept upright. Golden runic tattoos traced across her face and arm. Were it not for her clothing, Zephyrion was certain they continued across the rest of her body.

The great craft house.

Kharadun.

To the east stood a youth with a relaxed air about him. About six feet tall. His hair was braided, white streaks woven through it. Three pairs of golden vertical lines ran from his eyes to the bridge of his nose. His eyes themselves were golden, like the sun.

From the great royal house.

Eryndor.

Still, of all of them, he was the only one who turned. Their eyes met. The youth tilted his head slightly before giving him a casual wink. Zephyrion resisted the urge to frown.

There was something about him. Something that made his instincts stir uneasily. He would need to be careful around that one.

Done with his observations, Zephyrion looked away. They were likely the respective Primes of their regions.

The clearing gradually fell silent. The next person to arrive was Lumi. Drenched in sweat, her little legs were a blur. She skidded to a stop beside him, panting while smiling up at him.

Zephyrion felt the other Primes glance in her direction before eventually looking away. Soon, more people began arriving.

Unfortunately, only Zephyrion and Lumi had managed to circumvent the delay. The majority of arrivals came from the other regions. Only after a considerable number had filled the clearing did the southern cadets begin appearing.

Kaelion and Vaelor arrived almost simultaneously, both glaring at Zephyrion’s back while pretending to stare ahead. Then came Kaelith, Draven, Nedra, and Lucien. Eventually, Tobias, Fiona, and Kaiden arrived as well.

During that time, another countdown had appeared. The moment it struck zero, a loud hum rippled across the clearing.

The military personnel, who had stood motionless until now, moved. Every youth who arrived afterward was halted at the base of the hill and ordered to return.

Many shook their heads, insisting they had been so close. Others tried to push past. Some even begged. The soldiers remained unmoved. Every single one was sent back. Those who resisted were struck unconscious. No exceptions. Shamed. They had dishonored their houses.

The Empire rewarded those who survived military training and punished those who failed. Those who dropped out would be branded on the backs of their hands.

A Mark of Shame.

Those who survived would receive a Mark of Glory and earn the title Tempered. Such was the Ferran way.

Soon, his attention shifted toward the platform as multiple figures appeared. The moment he saw the figure facing south, Zephyrion froze.

’How?’