Chapter Four -Entrance Exam

Chapter Four -Entrance Exam

The sun crested over the towering marble walls of the Royal Defence Academy, casting long shadows across the immaculate courtyard. Banners bearing the royal sigil—an eagle clutching lightning in one talon and a shield in the other—fluttered in the wind, crimson and gold catching the light like fire.

At the center stood a raised stone platform, flanked by towering iron braziers that crackled with ceremonial flame. On it, dignitaries and commanders took their places, all draped in gleaming armor and decorated sashes. The crowd below—rows upon rows of young aspirants—stood at attention.

Among them stood Kael, fingers flexing at his sides, boots anchored firmly to the stone. His eyes roved across the stage, taking in the symbols of power, of promise.

“So this is it, huh?” he muttered, adjusting his stance. “The start of everything.”

Ryzen, his mentor, stood just behind him, arms crossed, expression unreadable. “That’s right,” he said. “The test begins soon. But first—watch and learn.”

A trumpet blast cut through the air, regal and clear.

The crowd stilled.

King Aldric emerged, adorned in sapphire-lined robes over fine plate, a jeweled crown resting just above his graying brows. At his side stood four imposing figures, each distinct, each radiating authority like a silent storm.

Ryzen leaned in, voice low and firm.

“That’s General Valtor, of the Patrol Force.”

Kael’s eyes followed his gesture to a wiry man in leather-draped armor, with sharp, hawk-like eyes. His presence was quiet—but piercing.

“His scouts guard the wilds,” Ryzen continued. “They see what others miss. Track what shouldn’t be found. When something stirs at our borders, Valtor’s men know before it breathes.”

“So… the kingdom’s eyes and ears?” Kael asked.

“Exactly.”

Next, Ryzen pointed to a figure clad in obsidian-black armor, polished until it reflected the world in warped silence.

“That’s General Orlan, leader of the Strike Squad.”

Kael narrowed his gaze.

“They operate outside our kingdom,” Ryzen said. “Stealth missions, spy work, assassinations. If something threatens us from the shadows, Orlan handles it in kind.”

Kael nodded, the weight of it settling in. “Sounds dangerous.”

Ryzen smirked. “Because it is.”

Then came the third—a towering figure in silver armor lined with navy trim, his shield resting at his feet like a monument. His stance was rigid, righteous.

“General Rodric, commander of the Guard. They protect the cities, enforce the law, keep the peace. The kingdom’s shield, both literally and in spirit.”

Kael watched the way Rodric stood, unmoving, a pillar of discipline.

“Police and defenders, huh?”

“Correct,” Ryzen said. “But remember this next one.”

He nodded toward the last figure—and the largest.

His armor was matte steel, adorned with gold, and bore battle-scars across the chestplate. A hammer longer than Kael was tall rested across his back.

“That’s Grand General Malthus, leader of the Soldier Division. When wars rage, he commands the storm. His men are the ones who march. Who bleed. Who win.”

Kael swallowed.

Malthus didn’t move. He didn’t need to.

He was presence made flesh.

“He looks unstoppable,” Kael whispered.

Ryzen gave a quiet nod. “Because he is. Each of these generals commands a pillar of our kingdom’s strength. Eyes. Blade. Shield. War.”

The trumpets rang again.

The courtyard fell into breathless silence.

King Aldric stepped forward, his voice carrying like thunder over the still air.

“Today, you stand before us as hopefuls.

Tomorrow, some of you will stand among us as defenders of this kingdom.

Prove your worth. Prove your will.

For only the strongest—only the unshaken—shall earn their place.”

The moment lingered.

Then the drums began.

Kael closed his eyes for just a breath—then opened them with something sharper, steadier. Resolve.

The test was coming.

And everything would change.

The Grand Arena of the Royal Defense Academy roared with anticipation. Sunlight spilled through the open dome above, casting golden beams across the circular battleground below. Around the arena’s edge, candidates stood in orderly rows, their expressions a mix of awe and nervous excitement.

Kael stood near the front, arms folded, trying to hide the restless energy thrumming in his chest.

Master Ryzen stood beside him, as still as ever—his eyes locked on the arena with razor focus.

From the far gate, two figures stepped into the ring. One blazed with visible heat, flames licking across his shoulders and down his arms. The other moved with a liquid grace, surrounded by a soft, flowing aura that shimmered like a calm tide.

A hush fell across the stands.

Announcer (voice amplified by arcane spell):

“First match! Ronan of the Flamebound versus Selis of the Tide! Begin!”

A beat—then Ronan surged forward, fire erupting from his fists. He hurled a blazing fireball with a roar, flames howling toward his opponent.

But Selis raised her hand calmly. A swirling wall of water burst forth, extinguishing the fireball with a hiss and a plume of steam.

Kael leaned in. “Water beats fire.”

Ryzen nodded, not taking his eyes off the fight. “Yes. The elemental tree governs combat as much as muscle or magic. Fireborns wield destruction—but Aquahearts douse their fury. Element beats element, if you know how to play the game.”

Selis didn’t wait. With a flick of her wrist, a stream of water shot toward Ronan’s chest, knocking him backward with force. Before he could rise, she froze the trailing droplets into sharpened ice spikes and launched them with precision.

Ronan rolled aside, narrowly escaping.

Kael’s brow furrowed. “She’s using water and ice?”

“Good eye,” Ryzen replied. “Water is her root, but ice is an advanced form. It takes control. Fire can melt it—but Ronan’s already losing ground. Each move he makes costs him heat.”

Selis raised herself atop a summoned wave, then lashed forward, striking Ronan with a water whip. The impact cracked like a whipcrack—he crumpled to the sand, unmoving.

Announcer: “Selis wins!”

Kael let out a breath. “That was fast…”

“She won because she understood her element,” Ryzen said calmly. “She didn’t overpower him—she outplayed him. Knowledge is the edge.”

As Ronan was carried off the field, the arena gates opened once more.

The next pair entered: one surrounded by arcing bolts of lightning, his body pulsing with nervous energy. The other, silent and grounded, stepped in with measured calm, his hands grazing the dirt.

Announcer:

“Next match! Darian of the Storm vs. Eryk the Earthshaper!”

Kael leaned forward. “Storm vs… Earth. What happens here?”

“Interesting matchup,” Ryzen mused. “Electricity is dangerous—but Earth is its natural absorber. If Darian’s not careful, his power could vanish into the ground.”

The bell rang.

Darian struck first—hurling a bolt of lightning that cracked through the air like a whip. Eryk raised a stone wall, and the bolt fizzled harmlessly into it.

“He’s playing defensive,” Kael said, watching Eryk step backward, still poised.

“Because Storm types rush in,” Ryzen replied. “Eryk’s waiting for a mistake.”

Eryk then slammed his palms into the earth. The arena quaked, sharp stone pillars erupting under Darian’s feet. But Darian reacted fast—leaping clear and twisting mid-air.

He threw a bolt directly at Eryk’s exposed side.

It struck true—Eryk flinched, his footing faltering just enough.

That was all Darian needed.

He closed the gap, lightning sparking from his arms, and drove a shockwave punch into Eryk’s chest.

Kael’s eyes widened. “That was fast!”

Ryzen nodded. “It’s not always about who has the elemental advantage. Darian knew Earth would ground him, so he used speed—precision—not brute force.”

Eryk tried to regain balance, but another crackling palm hit home, sending him sprawling across the stone floor.

Announcer: “Darian wins!”

Kael frowned. “I thought Eryk had it. He had the counter.”

Ryzen looked at him then, voice calm but firm. “On paper, yes. But real battle is never paper. It’s blood, grit, and timing. The elemental tree is your guide—but strategy is your sword. A smart fighter can turn a disadvantage into victory.”

Kael nodded slowly, his mind burning with new understanding. This wasn’t theory anymore. This was truth—alive, electric, and real.

And soon, his turn would come.

The tension inside the Royal Defense Academy’s Grand Arena was electric. Candidates lined the edges of the colossal ring, their voices hushed, the energy crackling with anticipation. Kael stood among them, his gaze fixed on the stone-paved arena floor, where the next duel was about to begin.

Two figures stepped forward. One radiated brilliance—Kiara, her golden aura shimmering like sunlight through glass. The other moved with quiet menace, his form swathed in shadow—Varian, a Shadowmancer cloaked in undulating darkness.

The announcer's voice rang out, sharp and clear.

“Next match! Kiara versus Varian. Begin!”

Instantly, the arena darkened. Shadows pooled unnaturally fast across the ground, like ink spilled from a shattered bottle. Varian lifted a single hand, and the tendrils of blackness obeyed, coiling around him like snakes. Across from him, Kiara’s light flared in response, her radiance forming a glowing halo that repelled the creeping dark.

Varian tilted his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Light may push back the dark,” he said, voice soft, almost amused, “but it can never erase it.”

Kiara didn’t flinch. “Then I’ll just have to shine brighter.”

He vanished.

The shadows swallowed him in an instant, and a heartbeat later, a whip of darkness lashed out from behind Kiara. But she was ready. Spinning on her heel, she threw up a burst of light. It detonated with a flash, burning through the tendril like morning sun through mist.

Kael leaned forward, muscles tense. His eyes tracked the movements, searching for Varian’s next play.

He’s using the arena itself, Kael thought. He’s moving through the shadows... but Kiara isn’t letting him dictate the pace.

Varian reappeared to Kiara’s right, a dagger of condensed shadow forming in his hand. He lunged, swift and silent. Kiara’s barrier flared up just in time—the dagger met radiant force and shattered with a hiss. She countered immediately, launching a spear of light toward his chest. Varian rolled, vanishing into the shadow again.

In the stands, Kael’s mind raced, analyzing every move. It was like a deadly dance of opposites—light and dark locked in a struggle for control.

Kiara planted her foot, slamming her palm into the arena floor. A wave of light pulsed out from her, sweeping across the stones in concentric rings. The darkness recoiled, shrinking back, thinning out. With fewer shadows to vanish into, Varian’s advantage began to slip.

From his concealed position, Varian narrowed his eyes. Clever, he thought, but predictable.

He surged forward, hurling a barrage of shadow spikes. Kiara spun, her golden aura shimmering into a protective halo. The projectiles disintegrated before they touched her—but Varian wasn’t aiming to hit.

He was aiming to close the distance.

Suddenly, he was behind her, silent as a ghost. A shadow-forged gauntlet enveloped his fist as he struck, aiming for the base of her spine.

Kiara twisted with preternatural speed. Her hand shot out, catching his wrist mid-strike. A brilliant flash exploded between them, and Varian recoiled, hissing in pain as the searing light burned through his defense.

“You’re tougher than I expected,” he growled.

“And you’re more annoying than I expected,” she shot back, breath coming fast.

Varian’s smirk faltered. His expression hardened. He stepped back, raising both hands—and the arena itself responded.

The darkness pulsed.

A heavy chill settled over the crowd as the ambient light dimmed unnaturally. From the last few shadows, monstrous constructs began to rise—twisted beasts wrought from black smoke and clawed hatred. Their eyes gleamed violet, and they surged toward Kiara with a predator’s hunger.

Kael’s breath caught.

He’s doing something big...

But Kiara didn’t step back. She closed her eyes for the briefest second and breathed.

Then she ignited.

Her aura erupted like a supernova, a blinding brilliance that painted every stone in gold. Her body glowed white-hot, her eyes now orbs of celestial flame. She raised her arms. Dozens of spears of pure light appeared above her, suspended like stars in the sky.

And then—she let them fall.

Each weapon streaked through the air with righteous fury, impaling shadow beast after shadow beast. The constructs howled and dissolved into smoke.

But Varian was already moving. Using the momentary distraction, he emerged one last time from the only surviving patch of darkness, his blade humming with concentrated shadow energy.

He lunged, thrusting the dagger toward her unprotected flank.

Kael’s heart leapt into his throat. Too fast—

But Kiara turned.

In a motion fluid as wind and sure as judgment, she caught Varian’s wrist and pulled him forward. Her palm met his chest—and unleashed a storm of light.

Varian gasped as the radiant surge engulfed him. His shadows screamed and peeled away from his body, falling like ash. He stumbled backward, staggering, eyes wide as his powers flickered and failed.

Kiara advanced, relentless. With one final motion, she raised her hand and released the last of her strength in a brilliant wave. It surged across the arena, washing over Varian.

And when the light faded, he was on his knees, panting, spent. The darkness that once surrounded him was gone.

The announcer’s voice echoed like thunder.

“Kiara wins!”

A breath Kael hadn’t realized he was holding escaped in a rush. He watched her—shoulders straight, golden aura dimming, yet triumphant. She didn’t gloat. She simply stood, radiant and resolute.

He didn’t need Master Ryzen’s voice in his ear this time. He understood now.

It wasn’t just elements. It wasn’t just light versus shadow.

It was control. Strategy. Precision.

Varian had the advantage of deception. But Kiara? Kiara had dictated the battlefield. She turned his greatest strength against him—and won.

Kael clenched his fist, the fire of resolve igniting in his chest.

If he was going to survive this academy… he would need more than power. He would need to learn. Adapt. And one day—he would stand where they stood now.