The room was quiet until the woman entered. Elderly, stiff-backed, and cloaked in a seamless white garment that clung to her like mist, she moved with the weight of something ancient. Her face held no expression—a perfect mask of patience and judgment. Yet even without her speaking, I knew what she was. A shrine maiden. She bowed once to Kalu Drya. Not to me. Shrine maidens did not bow to those they did not serve. They assisted priestesses in sacred rites, tended to the shrines, and bore the presence of the Great Gods like vessels. No ordinary person could walk into a shrine and survive the weight of the divine energy pulsing through it. The air itself could consume them. But this woman wore the mark of one who had walked in and walked out again. Kalu Drya turned to me. "She owes me a favor," she said simply, as though favors owed between sacred women and ancient forces were just another matter of housekeeping. The shrine maiden’s eyes flicked to mine. "You understand this borders
The violent sound of an explosion from above made my heart jump—the smell of coal and grime quickly filling my nostrils. I looked up, expecting fire or ash or sky. But all I saw was the same endless white. "Allow me to see already!" I shouted, my voice cracking with frustration. The sky responded with a roar, like some wounded beast had torn open the clouds. It sounded alive—pained and violent—and the air around me shifted. It burned. The heat rolled down in waves, smothering me, boiling my skin beneath the fabric of my white robe. My hands trembled. 'So this is the test? No warning, no form. Just fear.' The void finally gave way like a veil being ripped off my face. And I saw it. My breath caught. "What the hell?" Volcanoes. Dozens. Hanging impossibly high, as though the clouds had turned into mountains and crowned themselves with fire. They trembled, coughed smoke, and erupted. But what they spat out weren’t lava or rocks. They spat machines. Humanoid constructs folded mid-ai
My knees hit the ground, and I gasped. The last embers of fire left my limbs, and the light in my veins fizzled out. The machines closed in like wolves. Dozens. Hundreds. Then they stopped. Their bodies twitched. Glowed. Then began to move again, but not toward me. They turned away—toward each other. Toward the center. Their forms shifted, folded, and twisted. Metal clanged, plates screeched, gears roared to life. It was like watching a swarm of insects become a monster. War machines fused and expanded, crawling up one another, snapping and locking into place, climbing themselves to form something colossal. They were building a titan. A beast of war. A mountain of blackened steel, smoke, and raw power. Arms like towers. A torso the size of a hill. Legs that made the quaking ground feel like a whisper. Its head turned. It saw me. "I'm so dead." Then from the swarm came more shifting, more assembly—a weapon. Massive. Its right arm transformed into a blade forged from hundreds
I tried not to flinch. “Follow-up session. With the Head Healer.”Lasha studied me for a breath too long. Then gave a curt nod. “You’re being summoned. By the court.”My heart skipped.The court? Did they know?'No . . . if they knew I went back to the gods' domain, why wait five hours?'I swallowed my nerves and followed.We walked in silence through winding halls and torch-lit corridors until we reached the towering court doors.They opened.Inside, Bainer, Nyomei, and Lotanni stood together. So did Orin—the mage with energy burst magic who fought Nyomei and lost. I knew this because Lotanni made me watch the fight recap just to prove Nyomei was nothing like her human self when in beast form.But what truly caught me off guard was seeing Brand.He stood next to Orin, and unlike the others, he was a second-year cadet at the Sky Border. His presence among us left a strange taste in my mouth. Were we all called here because of him?But no—he looked just as tense as the rest. Nervous. U
The training room looked like something from a dream. Or a nightmare. I couldn’t decide which.Fluorescent walls shaped into a perfect octagon surrounded us. The white glow of the platforms beneath our feet hummed with subtle power, keeping us slightly suspended in the air. Everything about the room whispered of ancient brilliance—Gyrange’s final forge, they'd called it. Built by the most legendary Magic Engineer in history. And now it was watching us.Literally.“Does it feel like we’re being judged by the walls?” Bainer whispered beside me, shifting her weight uncomfortably on her podium.“They’re alive,” Orin muttered, half to himself. “I’ve heard of this place. It’s reserved for ranked Watchers only. Records everything—every move, every error. Even has a voice.”“Great,” I mumbled. “No pressure at all.”The sound of Commander Kema’s voice rang through the room, deep and calm. “You are now inside one of the most adaptive training environments in the realm. This chamber will push yo
We were all still buzzing from the first day of training, bodies sore but minds wired. Lotanni wouldn’t stop humming some tune none of us recognized, Nyomei kept reviewing her own footwork in the air like she was still on the podium, and Bainer looked like she was trying to pretend her muscles weren’t burning.“So we survived the system’s welcome test,” Lotanni said, stretching her arms overhead. “Think tomorrow it’ll start throwing real swords at us?”“I’ll take swords over more mental projections,” Nyomei muttered. “Pretty sure mine showed my fifth birthday party. I hate cake now.”“Good,” I said dryly. “More for me.”Orin and Brand had peeled off in another direction, heading toward the male lodges on the east side of the grounds. The rest of us were on our way back to the female quarters, winding through the stone corridor path flanked with glowing moss and quiet torches.That’s when we heard them.A cluster of low laughter, sharp and deliberate, spilling out from the mouth of the
The next day’s training began with an odd tension in the air. Not the usual dread from a brutal combat assessment or another mind-warping illusion. This was something else.We all felt it.Brand, especially.We stepped into the training chamber to find a single figure already waiting for us—lean, composed, draped in the gray-black combat robes of a senior Watcher. She had short silver hair and deep brown skin that glowed under the fluorescent lights. Her stance was relaxed, but something about her presence made the air feel sharper.“Oh stars,” Nyomei breathed. “Is that . . . Lysar Fallan?”“Who?” Lotanni whispered back.“Lysar,” Bainer echoed. “As in—the Lysar? The prodigy who made the A-Class list as a second-year? The one who knocked down three smug royal werewolves in a ranked match?”“Number eleven on the potential successor list for Commander,” Nyomei added. “She’s that good.”And standing beside me, Brand—the usually composed, deadpan, untouchable Brand—was sweating.Actually s
We were still catching our breath—figuratively and literally—when Nyomei flopped onto the floor and groaned loud enough for the entire Sky Border to hear.“Tag? With someone who has portal magic? How was that even fair?” she cried. “The moment she touched her vest, we were doomed!”Brand, ever the ray of sunshine, crossed his arms and said, “Stop making excuses. You lost. Train harder.”Lotanni scoffed. “Alright, lover boy, calm down. She’s not wrong. That match was set up to humble us.”“I’m not—” Brand stopped short, then sighed. “Whatever.”“I still can’t believe I got tagged first,” Orin muttered darkly. “First! I blinked, and her hand was in a portal slapping the life out of me.”He turned to Bainer. “Why didn’t you get tagged first?”Bainer raised an eyebrow. “What does that even mean?”“She’s saying you were supposed to be the softest target,” Nyomei added with a smirk, then patted Orin’s back. “There, there. Don’t cry.”Orin jerked away. “Who’s crying?”Nyomei burst into laugh
They weren’t just fast.They were coordinated.Hundreds of sharp-eyed nightmares, darting across the grass with freakish rhythm. Beaks snapping, talons gleaming, thick sinewy muscles built for chasing and shredding. If I hadn’t spent fifteen days sharpening my instincts in the isolation chamber, I’d be a torn-up mess before midday.I dodged left, rolled under a leaping pair, and kicked one away before it clawed my thigh. They circled back, unrelenting.Naila’s voice had been quiet since I stepped into isolation. I knew she hadn’t left—her presence still hummed at the back of my mind, silent and still, hibernating deep in the dark void.She said her time in the God's domain had taken a toll on her resolve, and she needed time alone to recover.But it was moments like this I missed her most.If she were here, she’d tell me how to beat this. How to capture them.But right now? I was alone.Two hours passed.Two. Whole. Hours.I hadn’t caught a single one.The most I’d managed was knockin
The main hall was still empty when I asked the system for an update.“All RGT Selects have transitioned to advanced training with the five-year cadets,” it replied. “Except Cadet Orin, who remains in Isolation Chamber Nine.”So they’d all made it through.I had passed reflection training last. But apparently, I wasn’t the only one still left behind.I was just about to leave when the door to Chamber Nine hissed open.Orin stepped out.His shirt was soaked through. His arms hung heavy at his sides. Eyes slightly unfocused.We locked eyes.“Hey,” he muttered.“Hey,” I replied quietly.He didn’t stop walking. Just gave me a tired nod and moved toward the exit.“See you at the barracks.”I watched him go, understanding too well the weight in his step.He’d won the fight.But he’d lost the race.After the longest shower of my life and a hot meal that nearly brought me to tears, I made my way to the five-year barracks.It was louder than I expected.Cadets jogged in lines across the courtya
(Back to Jade's POV)The chamber sealed shut behind me.No sound. No wind. Just a dim glow humming from the ceiling and the faint static of the training panels.This was isolation training. Me versus me. Me versus her.The reflection.But I wasn’t going to beat Petrusia’s reflection by throwing punches blindly in here. I needed more than stamina. I needed instinct.So I trained.Every day followed the same rhythm.Five hours in the mind realm.The system had crafted a simulated world just for me—a time-warped bubble where one day outside equaled ten inside. I’d spend five 'outside' hours locked in that space, which meant nearly fifty hours passed in there. Two straight days of combat packed into one session.The mind realm wasn’t gentle.It was where I sharpened my instincts. Battled wave after wave of randomized combat trials—dummies, wild beasts, humanoids, constructs, and variants. The enemies never repeated. Never got predictable. Every blow I dodged, every parry I missed, every s
Jade had been gone for three days.No one had seen her. No one had heard from her. Not even the system had offered any updates beyond: “Cadet Jade Ishola remains in isolation. Training active.”But her absence lingered in the air.The reflection platforms still gleamed. The Selects still trained.Nyomei stood center circle, already five rounds into the day. Her hair was damp with sweat, her jaw set tight. The familiar shimmer of twin opponents formed in front of her—two broad-shouldered werewolves with identical faces and cocky stances.They were champions. Like her.The same champions who always claimed first and second—leaving her to settle for third.Today would be different.The sixth round started.They came at her fast, in sync as always—but she didn’t give them time to control the rhythm. Her wolf instincts kicked in before thought could. She moved like water and struck like tempered steel, slipping between their swings and counters.A low sweep took the first down.The second
I didn’t make it past sixty-eight seconds.One minute and seven seconds, to be exact.That was my best attempt so far against the reflection of Petrusia—the artificial construct conjured by the system that fought with all of Petrusia’s best traits but none of her weaknesses.I’d lasted nine seconds during our first match.This was supposed to be an improvement.It didn’t feel like one.I lay flat on my back, breathing hard, staring at the high ceiling of the reflection chamber while the fluorescent runes on the platform dimmed down around me.“One minute and seven seconds,” the system confirmed. “Cadet Jade Ishola: Defeated.”The words echoed like a taunt.I sat up slowly, brushing sweat from my brow and fighting the sting of frustration rising in my throat.Why was I still this weak?I’d trained. Fought. Thought. Bled.And still, I couldn’t lay a finger on her. Not one.“The reflection was modeled on Princess Petrusia of Króna,” the system said, as if offering comfort. “Royal werewol
We were still catching our breath—figuratively and literally—when Nyomei flopped onto the floor and groaned loud enough for the entire Sky Border to hear.“Tag? With someone who has portal magic? How was that even fair?” she cried. “The moment she touched her vest, we were doomed!”Brand, ever the ray of sunshine, crossed his arms and said, “Stop making excuses. You lost. Train harder.”Lotanni scoffed. “Alright, lover boy, calm down. She’s not wrong. That match was set up to humble us.”“I’m not—” Brand stopped short, then sighed. “Whatever.”“I still can’t believe I got tagged first,” Orin muttered darkly. “First! I blinked, and her hand was in a portal slapping the life out of me.”He turned to Bainer. “Why didn’t you get tagged first?”Bainer raised an eyebrow. “What does that even mean?”“She’s saying you were supposed to be the softest target,” Nyomei added with a smirk, then patted Orin’s back. “There, there. Don’t cry.”Orin jerked away. “Who’s crying?”Nyomei burst into laugh
The next day’s training began with an odd tension in the air. Not the usual dread from a brutal combat assessment or another mind-warping illusion. This was something else.We all felt it.Brand, especially.We stepped into the training chamber to find a single figure already waiting for us—lean, composed, draped in the gray-black combat robes of a senior Watcher. She had short silver hair and deep brown skin that glowed under the fluorescent lights. Her stance was relaxed, but something about her presence made the air feel sharper.“Oh stars,” Nyomei breathed. “Is that . . . Lysar Fallan?”“Who?” Lotanni whispered back.“Lysar,” Bainer echoed. “As in—the Lysar? The prodigy who made the A-Class list as a second-year? The one who knocked down three smug royal werewolves in a ranked match?”“Number eleven on the potential successor list for Commander,” Nyomei added. “She’s that good.”And standing beside me, Brand—the usually composed, deadpan, untouchable Brand—was sweating.Actually s
We were all still buzzing from the first day of training, bodies sore but minds wired. Lotanni wouldn’t stop humming some tune none of us recognized, Nyomei kept reviewing her own footwork in the air like she was still on the podium, and Bainer looked like she was trying to pretend her muscles weren’t burning.“So we survived the system’s welcome test,” Lotanni said, stretching her arms overhead. “Think tomorrow it’ll start throwing real swords at us?”“I’ll take swords over more mental projections,” Nyomei muttered. “Pretty sure mine showed my fifth birthday party. I hate cake now.”“Good,” I said dryly. “More for me.”Orin and Brand had peeled off in another direction, heading toward the male lodges on the east side of the grounds. The rest of us were on our way back to the female quarters, winding through the stone corridor path flanked with glowing moss and quiet torches.That’s when we heard them.A cluster of low laughter, sharp and deliberate, spilling out from the mouth of the
The training room looked like something from a dream. Or a nightmare. I couldn’t decide which.Fluorescent walls shaped into a perfect octagon surrounded us. The white glow of the platforms beneath our feet hummed with subtle power, keeping us slightly suspended in the air. Everything about the room whispered of ancient brilliance—Gyrange’s final forge, they'd called it. Built by the most legendary Magic Engineer in history. And now it was watching us.Literally.“Does it feel like we’re being judged by the walls?” Bainer whispered beside me, shifting her weight uncomfortably on her podium.“They’re alive,” Orin muttered, half to himself. “I’ve heard of this place. It’s reserved for ranked Watchers only. Records everything—every move, every error. Even has a voice.”“Great,” I mumbled. “No pressure at all.”The sound of Commander Kema’s voice rang through the room, deep and calm. “You are now inside one of the most adaptive training environments in the realm. This chamber will push yo