I yawn, trying to ignore the anxious chatter of the prospective new students around us. We have been waiting at the academy's gates since before sunrise. The light peeking over the horizon reveals the massive building carved out of smooth basalt blocks, dark as the night.

"What are the admission criteria again?" I ask my new friend Kenae, trying not to fall asleep on my feet. The crowd's hushed conversations are a lullaby.

"Don't worry. As long as you are under eighteen and have at least one meridian open, there shouldn't be a problem. Joining isn't hard. I've heard staying is harder, though. If you relax too much, you get kicked out fast."

That makes sense. Most people around us are younger, maybe between thirteen and fifteen, children.

"How do they do that? Are they gonna check our status?" I ask, a bit worried. My attributes are too high for my advancement stage to pass for a simple country bumpkin.

"Sure, they have an artifact to test you. I think it reveals your age, affinities, and advancement. Simple, right?"

I gulp, feeling more and more nervous. "Does it check your attributes too?" I may need another plan and an excuse to get out of here. Maybe I should bolt as soon as they call Kenae.

"What? No, silly," answers the girl with a laugh. "Of course not. That would be an invasion of privacy. Imagine what someone could do if they had that information."

"Yeah, of course, I know." I breathe out, relieved. Kenae looks at me suspiciously as if she is about to ask me if I have something to hide, but then a commotion breaks out further down the street.

"Make way for the young mistress!"

A lacquered black carriage surges out of a choked city street. Its crested wheels splash filth onto the hems of the startled children surrounding us.

The driver cracks his whip over flinching shoulders with utter indifference until the crowd parts out of necessity, pressed aside by snorting horses and the unspoken threat that the noble within neither knows nor cares what—or who—gets crushed by his wheels.

"Who dares?" asks a boy dressed in fancy silks, lingering in the path for an instant too long.

"Fool, get out of the way," answers another boy, pushing the first one out of the carriage's way. "It's the young Han mistress."

"Oh!"

The last cries of protest die, smothered by curiosity, while the carriage disappears inside the academy's courtyard. Nobles never stand in line, it seems. I follow the carriage's passage with my eyes. The Han mistress, my first target.

"It is true. Han Linea is going to be our classmate. I can't believe it."

"They say she is an unrivaled genius."

It seems I'm not the only one trying to make her acquaintance. I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose. It is going to be more difficult than I thought.

"Do you think I have a chance with her?" asks some dreamy-eyed boy with a pockmarked face.

"As if," scoffs the fancy-dressed boy in response. "A dragon doesn't associate with talentless toads." He leans against a lamppost, flicking a bit of dust from his coat as though the insult hasn't even required effort. Some boys snicker, others try to create some distance.

"You!" The first boy's face is turning increasingly red. "Take that back! I've opened my fourth meridian already and just turned sixteen."

"As I said," says the fancy-dressed one with a sneer. "Talentless scum. I'm only fifteen and already have five meridians."

"You son of a bitch! I bet you are pumped full of shitty alchemy and ruined your foundation." The words drop like coals into the sudden silence.

"What?" Now, fancy-boy is turning red too. He grabs the hilt of his sword, eyes smoldering with barely checked rage. "You dare?"

People step back, leaving a circle in the middle. The first boy smiles thinly, already stepping inside, his hand on the hilt of an arm-long knife.

Fancy-boy steps into the improvised ring, too. "What are the conditions of the duel?"

"Good," murmurs the first boy. Then he sneers. "Do you even know how to hold that poker?"

They dart towards each other. But before either of them can draw their blades, a man appears in their midst, pulling them both to him by their ears. "There will be no unsanctioned fights on school grounds unless you want to get expelled before you even start attending," he reminds them.

Fancy-boy seems about to demand something. Then he looks between the other student and the man's robes and swallows his pride. "Yes, master."

"Yes, master," repeats the other boy, imitating him like a parrot.

The man sighs before he releases them. "It's going to be worse than ever this month." He shakes his head slightly before addressing the fancy-dressed boy. "You, come with me. We will process your admission before you get any more funny ideas."

With that, they walk toward the building, leaving us behind.

"Why did that bastard get rewarded and not me?" complains the first boy, but the rest of the children ignore him.

The brief conflict reminds me that probably most of them have higher cultivation than I do. I feel a bit humbled. I hope it won't be a problem.

I bet their foundations are crap, though. Their movements didn't seem all that smooth or fast. I'm even more glad that the people here believe attributes should be private. I wonder why Master Wen or Bae didn't care about it. It could be because of cultural differences.

"Thirty-seven to forty!" Someone calls the next batch of numbers to enter the building. I check the piece of parchment they gave me yesterday. I have the number eighty-nine. Kenae has eighty-eight. It could take a while. The line advances slowly while the sun rises higher into the sky. Sleep is calling my name.

"Wish me luck!" whispers Kenae into my ear, waking me up with a start. She giggles, looking at me, before walking toward the building and leaving me alone. I look around.

The square in front of the building feels a bit empty. There aren't many of us left, just a few dozen. Most are dressed in simple clothes and look around like scared chickens. A girl has some straw stuck between the folds of her robe. Could those be the children of some farmers? Did they distribute those numbers they gave us in order of wealth?

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"Eighty-nine to ninety-two!"

Oops! It's my turn.

A clerk sits slouched behind a counter. His eyes glaze as he stares into a softly glowing orb that pulses faintly from time to time. "Next."

I let one of the others go first to see what happens, still unconvinced about what they are testing us for. A petite girl walks forward, hesitantly at first, then more confidently when nobody scolds her. She stops right before the counter.

"Name?" asks the clerk.

"Meng Enea."

The clerk turns over a page in his notebook and writes something with a quill. He looks up at the girl as if asking with his eyes what is taking her so long. "Go on!"

"What do I do?" she asks.

The clerk sighs and shakes his head. "Just inject a bit of your mana into the testing orb."

The orb pulses brighter as she places her hands upon it, pursing her lips. Glowing numbers and letters dance over a tablet on the wall until they coalesce into words that make sense. The orb darkens again as if its job is over.

Age: 14

Cultivation stage: Meridian Carving (19%) (2/12)

Path: Scout

Affinities:

-Wind (High)

-Earth (Average)

Okay, that doesn't seem too bad. I can't help but notice that the girl's cultivation isn't much higher than mine. The fact that she is three years younger than I makes me want to sigh. I wonder what affinities are and why nobody has told me anything about them as far as I can remember. I haven't heard about the Scout path either. Could it be that Bae forgot to mention it when she made me choose? Or maybe she didn't have a manual for it.

I wonder how many paths exist. Did I choose too soon? I could have lost out on some potential possibilities for the perfect one. Probably not. I should be thankful for the opportunity to choose at all. I do think that the Rogue Enchanter path fits me.

The scratch of the quill is the only sound in the room as we watch in anticipation. It moves in fits and pauses, almost like a whisper that drags across the parchment, each stroke capturing another word.

I stand, motionless, between two boys watching the proceedings with wide eyes, waiting for their turn. The soft rasp of ink meeting paper seems impossibly loud in the hush, like a judgment that will mark our destinies. The very act of writing feels almost sacred and dangerous.

"Wait there," commands the clerk after his scribbles go silent. Then he looks at us briefly. "Next."

I let the boys go first because their eagerness seems to rise like a tide. Both are fifteen and are standard Rogues, with three open meridians and high shadow and water affinities. The clerk barely glances at the readings anymore, mumbling the results in a monotone voice while he writes them down. Finally, it is my turn.

"Name?"

"Minae," I answer. The clerk looks up at me as if expecting something more. "Just Minae. I don't have a clan name."

"Figures, another one of them." Mumbles the clerk while he writes it down.

Excuse me? I can't wait to get over the rest of the test.

The orb swallows my mana like a hungry kitten. I glance up until the words on the tablet stop moving.

Age: 17

Cultivation stage: Meridian Carving (13%) (1/12)

Path: Rogue? Rogue Mage? Rogue Variant?

Affinities:

-Shadow (High)

-Steam (Average)

-Light (Low)

I suppress a laugh. It appears that with only one finished meridian, the artifact has trouble guessing my path. I also notice that my affinities are similar to what Master Wen's artifact defined as my spirit root. Light is new, though. Or maybe the other artifact didn't think it was high enough.

"Okay. You all meet the requirements." The high-pitched voice of the clerk pulls me out of my musing. "The rest of the exam is simple. You only need to pass the first floor of the examination dungeon and reach the second floor. The first hundred applicants to achieve that become admitted as students unless they renounce." He points toward a portal on the wall.

Under a stone arch, a deep violet ovoid shimmers and pulses faintly as though breathing. The edges are neither sharp nor soft but in constant motion, a rim of light that bends and folds into itself as if it couldn't decide what shape to take. Abstract images can be seen in their swirling depths, hinting at buildings, mountains, or fire, depending on how the light catches them. It hums with a faint buzz, barely noticeable in the silence, almost like a building storm. I can feel the energy prickle against my skin, tugging, inviting, beckoning the unwary forward.

"You can leave your pet here," says another clerk. He is a tall boy, maybe a few years older than me, leaning against the wall beside the portal.

"What?" I ask, still distracted by the sight.

The boy looks at me with a knowing look. "It can absorb your attention if you have never been to a dungeon before, right?

"Yeah," I answer.

"I meant your cat," clarifies the boy. "You can leave him with me while you try to pass the test. Don't worry. I'll take good care of him until I give him back."

What cat? Oh! Kylo. That sleepy head. He does look like a housecat hiding in the hood of my cloak in his shrunken form. I almost forgot about him, having gotten accustomed to his constant presence. I blush, feeling embarrassed. Enea, the girl applicant, giggles. We must seem weird to the onlookers.

"Kylo is not a pet. Kylo hunter," grumbles the leopard in my mind. Our eyes meet. A spike of anxiety crosses my consciousness. "Kylo sneaky. Kylo not speak with strangers. Sister not worry," he tries to calm me down.

Well, it is what it is. It's not like I'm the only one carrying some animal around. A boy in the line outside had a hawk on his shoulder, and I saw a girl with a turtle in her arms. Both of them were mana-beasts.

I set Kylo down on the ground. He arches and stretches himself. Then he yawns, showing us his fangs, before looking up at me as if waiting for me to say something.

"Here, kitty, kitty…" calls the boy who told me I could leave Kylo with him. "Pss-pss-pss-pss."

Kylo scoffs in my mind while the boy's voice rises in a sing-song cadence, trying to tug at his curiosity. There is a silence between each syllable—poised and expectant—as if the very air leans forward, baiting Kylo to react. It's not loud or commanding but almost tender and conspiratorial, like the sound of a secret on offer. Finally, Kylo decides to trudge over. I watch him sit next to the boy and start grooming his paws.

"Cute!" exclaims Enea.

The boys roll their eyes and cross the portal, leaving us behind. Their forms disappear and get whisked into the unknown. The girl looks at it, trembling slightly.

"We can go together if you want," I offer.

She looks up at me. "Thanks." Then she looks back at the portal as if mustering courage. Before she can reconsider, I take her by the hand and pull her through the swirling mass. The last thing I hear before we disappear is a surprised squeal.

We reappear on a crossing between corridors, right next to the two boys who seem to be examining the marks on the walls of each tunnel.

I let go of Enea's hand to take in our new surroundings.

"So, this is a dungeon," I mutter in a low voice.

The walls of the corridors loom around us—rough-hewn stone slick with damp lichen. Every few steps, flickering torchlights illuminate our surroundings. I also see some crystals embedded in the ceiling, pulsing with the eerie glow of mana. The air is heavy with the scent of mold and mana, stale and charged. I notice that the density inside here is higher than outside. There is something strange to it, though. I can't make out what exactly. If the mana outside is a river, inside this dungeon, it is an irrigation canal, tamed and artificial.

A shadow passes across the end of the corridor before skittering out of sight behind a bend, too fast to follow. A while later, a metallic ringing and shouts of distant battle echo across the tunnel. We are not alone here.

Where are we supposed to go, though?

"Yeah, it's a maze-like dungeon," mutters one of the boys before stepping into a corridor. He stops a few steps later and glares back at us. "Don't follow me!"

"Wouldn't it be better to stay together?" asks Enea.

The other boy scoffs. "Don't you remember this is a test?" he asks. "You heard that man, too. It's a race. Only the first hundred get admitted. We are already at a disadvantage entering this late. I won't let you slow me down."

He disappears, too. Every step echoes too loudly, bouncing around the twists in the narrow halls until they suddenly fall silent.

He may have a point. I wonder which criteria they used to give out those turns. It wouldn't surprise me if you could pay to get attended sooner or to get a lower number.

Enea is starting to tremble, flinching at every movement in the shadows.

"Don't worry. I don't mind going together," I try to calm the girl. In part because I have no idea where to go, either. Maybe she knows. She is a Scout, after all. She may need to work on her composure, though, if the purpose of that path is to explore the wilds alone.

"Oh! Thanks!" She seems visibly relieved at my offer. "Dungeons are dangerous."

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