Dawn cracked over Mount Veyra like a fracture in the sky, its pale light spilling across the rugged peaks and casting long, jagged shadows over the base camp nestled at the mountain's foot. Mist clung to the valley in wispy tendrils, reluctant to surrender to the morning sun. The air hung chill and sharp, biting at exposed skin and fogging with each exhaled breath. Around the clearing, students bustled, some clustered in tight groups, others standing alone, adjusting packs, tightening straps, and murmuring in low, nervous tones that mingled with the rustle of pine needles overhead. The camp was a chaotic tapestry of movement and sound, a prelude to the monumental task ahead.

Fin stood slightly apart from the fray, his breath curling in the cold as he methodically checked his gear. His pack was light but practical, rations, a coil of rope, a small set of climbing tools, and his tantō rested sheathed at his hip. The blade wasn't ornate like those carried by some of the wealthier students, but its edge was keen, and the grip was worn to the exact shape of his hand. That familiarity meant more to him than aesthetics.

He was the only Year One student among the seventy gathered here, a fact that drew sidelong glances and hushed whispers from the twenty Year Twos and fifty Year Threes scattered across the camp.

"A first-year? Really?" one voice muttered, sharp enough to carry. Fin's blue eyes flicked briefly toward the sound, then returned to his pack. He tightened a strap with deliberate care, letting the words slide past him. He wasn't here for their approval.

The Academy had its hierarchies, its traditions. First-years didn't attempt Mount Veyra, it was an unspoken rule, as rigid as the mountain itself. Yet here he stood, breaking that tradition simply by existing in this space.

Nearby, Neela adjusted her water flask, her movements fluid and unhurried despite the tension crackling through the air. One of the few Year Twos, she stood out, not for any grand display, but for the quiet confidence in her posture, the way her sharp brown eyes scanned the crowd. She caught Fin's gaze for a moment, a flicker of curiosity passing between them, before she turned her attention back to her gear.

Beyond her, the Year Threes moved with the ease of experience, their packs clinking faintly as they traded jests or checked each other's knots. They were a tight-knit bunch, their confidence bordering on arrogance, and their numbers dwarfed the Year Twos.

Instructor Mara wove through the students like a shadow, her presence as unsettling as the void-like aura that clung to her. Her dark hair was pulled back severely, and her eyes, deep and unreadable, swept over the group with a predator's calm.

She paused near a cluster of Year Threes, murmuring something that made them straighten, then moved on. Other instructors dotted the camp, offering quiet words to their mentees, Year Twos and Threes they'd trained and groomed for this climb. Fin had no such mentor here; Mara was the closest he had to guidance.

He shifted his pack onto his shoulders, testing its weight against his frame. The straps dug into his shoulders, and he adjusted them minutely, seeking that perfect balance where the burden was bearable without restricting movement. A good pack was like a good secret, best when it sat so naturally you could almost forget it was there.

As he worked, he felt the press of stares against his back, prickling like static electricity against his skin, a sensation his Electromagnetic Perception made impossible to ignore. A Year Three with a scarred cheek and a tangle of dark hair sneered as he passed, his voice carrying over the din: "Hope the kid doesn't die." His companions snickered.

Fin's jaw tightened, a muscle twitching faintly, but he kept his gaze forward, fixed on the mountain's distant summit. Let them talk. His focus was the climb, not their doubts, not their scorn.

The dawn light crept higher, gilding the peaks, and the camp's restless energy sharpened into something tangible. Mount Veyra loomed above them, its slopes a brutal promise of trials to come. A place where worthy students might connect with an Elemental directly, gaining an Imprint that would shape their mana for life.

Few returned with such Imprints. Fewer still returned unscathed.

The murmur of the crowd faded to a hush as Headmaster Elijah stepped into the clearing, his arrival as abrupt and commanding as a thunderclap. His white hair caught the dawn light, glowing like a halo against the muted grays and greens of the mountain, and his eyes pierced through the mist, sharp and unrelenting. He wore a simple robe, but his presence filled the space, silencing whispers, stilling restless hands.

The air seemed to thicken with anticipation, every student turning to face him as if drawn by an invisible thread. Fin felt it too, that pull, like gravity but stronger, centered on the old man who stood before them with the calm certainty of someone with real power.

Elijah stood at the edge of the camp, Mount Veyra rising behind him like a silent sentinel, and when he spoke, his voice rolled out like distant thunder, deep and resonant. "Tier One is just the beginning," he began, each word deliberate, weighted with meaning. "You are climbing this mountain to begin your true journey."

A hush fell deeper over the students, not a breath out of place. Even the birds seemed to pause their morning songs.

"Most of you will not find an Elemental willing to offer an Imprint, but do not give up. This climb is more mental than physical. It will take most of you a week to reach the peak, a week of testing your resolve, your strength, your will."

He paused, letting the words settle, and the students shifted, some tightening their grips on their packs, others exchanging quick, nervous glances. Fin stood still, his breath shallow, feeling the weight of Elijah's gaze as it swept over the crowd. It brushed him for a fleeting moment, a brief, piercing acknowledgment, before moving on, leaving a shiver in its wake.

"All of you are at the peak of Tier One," Elijah continued, his tone unwavering. Tier One was basic. Most students graduated at Tier Two. Few reached Tier Three. Beyond that lay realms of power most only dreamed about.

"But the mountain is alive," Elijah warned, his voice dropping slightly. "Lower-tier monsters will be drawn to the Elementals' presence, Tier One beasts, perhaps Tier Two. They will test you as much as the climb itself. Be vigilant. Be prepared."

Fin thought of the creatures he'd studied in his bestiary classes. Tier One beasts were dangerous but predictable, shadow wolves with their pack tactics, fire salamanders that left charred footprints in their wake, wind serpents that could slice skin with nothing but a concentrated gust. Tier Two threats were another matter entirely: earth golems that could crush bones with a single blow, water nymphs whose songs lured the unwary to drown, lightning hawks whose screams presaged deadly strikes from above.

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Electromagnetic Perception would help him detect many of these creatures before they got too close. Though, he doubted any of the Tier One or lower end Tier Two beast would be a problem for him.

Elijah's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of something stern passing through them. "This is not a race, but a forging. What you become on this mountain is up to you."

He fell silent, the echo of his voice lingering in the air, and then, with a single word, "Begin" he stepped back, his robe fluttering faintly in the breeze.

The spell broke. Murmurs rippled through the students like a wave, some squared their shoulders, steeling themselves for the task ahead, while others cast wary glances at the shadowed slopes above. A Year Three near Fin muttered, "A week? We'll see who's left standing," his tone half-challenge, half-doubt.

Fin exhaled slowly, the weight of Elijah's words sinking into him. A week to the peak. A week of solitude, danger, and the faint hum of the mountain that already pulsed faintly in his senses, a rhythmic throb like a distant heartbeat, elemental energies flowing beneath stone and soil. He adjusted his pack one last time, and turned his gaze upward. The climb was calling.

As the crowd stirred into motion, Neela sidled up to Fin, her boots scuffing lightly against the rocky ground. Her flask was now clipped to her belt, and a faint sheen of sweat glistened on her brow from the morning's preparations. Up close, Fin could see the fine lines of concentration around her eyes.

She tilted her head slightly, her sharp eyes studying him with that same flicker of curiosity he'd glimpsed earlier. "Aodh," she said, using his family name with a casual ease that felt strangely intimate, her voice firm but not unfriendly. "Want to journey together? Safer with backup, you know."

Fin paused, his hands stilling on his pack. Her offer hung between them, simple and logical, and for a moment, it tugged at him like an undertow. He knew the climb's dangers, the beasts Elijah had warned of, the sheer exhaustion of a week on the mountain. A partner could mean survival. Something about Neela's steady gaze suggested reliability, a quality rare enough to be valuable.

But then his mind brushed against the secret he carried. His Unique skills that he'd kept hidden from everyone. Traveling with Neela meant constant vigilance, never using his abilities openly, always holding back. It meant risking exposure if they encountered danger he could only survive by revealing himself. And beneath that practical concern lay something deeper, a hesitation born of habit.

"No," he said, his voice steady, meeting her gaze. "I'll go alone. I don't want to hold you back."

It wasn't the whole truth, but it wasn't entirely a lie either. Let her think it was pride or concern for her safety that motivated his refusal. Better that than suspicion about what he was hiding.

Neela's brow arched faintly, surprise flickering across her face before she masked it with a shrug. Her mana signature flickered once, a brief pulse of... disappointment? Irritation? It was gone too quickly to interpret. "Your call," she replied, her tone light but her eyes lingering on him a moment longer, searching. "Stay safe out there, then."

She turned away and rejoined the dispersing crowd.

Nearby, Instructor Mara watched the exchange, her cryptic smile curling faintly at the edges of her lips. She stood with her arms crossed, her void-like aura a subtle pressure against the air, seeming to bend the ambient mana around her into strange configurations. "Good luck to you both," she said, her voice neutral, almost detached, as if she were commenting on the weather rather than a week-long trial that might reshape their futures, or end them entirely.

Her dark eyes flicked between Fin and Neela, then away, dismissing them as she moved toward another group. But in that brief glance, Fin thought he detected something knowing, as if Mara understood more about his choices than she let on. It was an unsettling thought.

Fin watched Neela's retreating figure for a heartbeat, then turned back to his gear. Alone was better, safer, cleaner. He could feel his mana pulsing faintly within him, steady and controlled, a secret he'd guard as fiercely as his life. The mountain awaited.

The students dispersed like scattered seeds, their movements a chaotic dance against the mountain's stillness. Year Threes banded into tight knots, their laughter and clipped commands echoing as they struck out ahead. Year Twos paired off or formed small clusters, their steps more cautious but determined, their auras more subdued but no less focused. A few, Fin among them, lingered at the rear, solitary figures against the sprawl of the camp.

He adjusted his pack one last time, the tantō at his hip a reassuring weight, and set off. The trail began rocky and steep, a narrow path of loose gravel and jutting stones that wound upward through a sparse line of pine trees. Mist swirled around his boots, dampening the hem of his cloak, and the air grew thinner with each step, carrying the sharp scent of pine resin and cold stone.

Small Tier One beasts rustled in the undergrowth, skittering shadows with glinting eyes, not yet bold enough to approach. His electromagnetic perception mapped their movements as disturbances in the natural fields around him, like ripples in an invisible pond, distinctive enough to track without seeing the creatures directly. A pack of shadow wolves moved parallel to the trail about fifty meters to his right, their signatures cool and fluid. A fire salamander basked on a rock just ahead, cooling in the chill morning air.

Fin kept his pace steady, his boots crunching against the ground, deliberately avoiding both creatures. No need for confrontation so early in the climb. His mana reserves were full, but conservation was always wiser than unnecessary expenditure.

The mountain's hum vibrated faintly through him, a low, resonant pulse that seemed to emanate from its core. It was alive, just as Elijah had said, Elementals stirring somewhere high above, monsters drawn to their power like moths to flame.

Ahead, the trail twisted upward, disappearing into the mist. He moved alone, the voices of the others fading into the distance, swallowed by the mountain's vast silence. The Academy, with its rigid structures and watchful eyes, fell away with each step, and something inside Fin eased slightly. Here, beyond those walls, he was free to be himself.

Dusk draped Mount Veyra in a heavy shroud as Fin veered off the trail, his boots sinking slightly into the pine-strewn earth of a small clearing. The day's climb had left his legs aching, a dull burn settling into his muscles, but he welcomed it, a sign of progress. His electromagnetic perception had proven invaluable, allowing him to detect and avoid most creatures before they became aware of him, a shadow wolf pack that had grown too curious, a trio of wind serpents hunting in the upper canopy, a young earth golem that had nearly crossed his path before veering away toward easier prey.

He dropped his pack with a soft thud and set to work, gathering dry twigs and stones to build a modest campfire. The clearing was defensible, backed against a cliff face, with clear sightlines to the surrounding forest, and only one obvious approach.

The flint sparked against his tantō's blade, and soon flames snapped to life, their orange glow pushing back the encroaching dark. The fire's heat signature bloomed in his perception, a warm pulse against the cooling background of the mountain night. If any creatures tracked by heat, he'd just made himself visible for miles, but the alternatives were darkness or cold, neither appealing after a day of brutal climbing.

He sat cross-legged before the fire, tearing off a piece of jerky from his rations and chewing slowly, the tang sharp on his tongue. The clearing was quiet save for the crackle of the flames and the distant rustle of unseen creatures in the underbrush. Above, stars pierced the sky, cold and clear, their light framing Mount Veyra's peak, a jagged silhouette still impossibly far away.

The mountain's hum was stronger now, thrumming through his senses like a heartbeat, hinting at the Elementals and monsters stirring higher up. The climb would test him, Elijah had said, and Fin knew it was more than physical. It was a forging, of his will, his resolve.

He tossed another twig into the flames, watching it catch and curl, blackening as the fire consumed it. The night stretched on, vast and silent, and Fin settled into it.

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