Krosalis Test and Elemental Ruler

“Whoa… this place is enormous!”
The second exam location—the royal palace’s training hall—left everyone speechless with its towering ceilings and marble walls. Arian’s eyes bulged wide as he scanned the surroundings, trying desperately to comprehend the sheer scale of the palace.

“There are so many people here… How am I supposed to compete with them?!”

Contrary to his expectations, the practical exam felt ten times more stressful. The testing hall resembled a gladiatorial arena more than an academic venue—a place where warriors bled, not students tested. If you focused, you could even smell blood ingrained in the very stones, as if the walls had absorbed it and made it part of their essence...

"Alright, alright—dear enhancer applicants." Abraham's voice cut through the murmurs. "I'm Professor Abraham, examiner for Krosalis Academy."

The middle-aged man's scar—a battle-earned badge of honor slashing across his cheek—stood in stark contrast to his impassive face.

"Frankly? I'd rather be anywhere but here. So let's make this quick." His eyes scanned the remaining candidates. "121 entered the written exam. 61 failed. You sixty stand before me now."

Suddenly, Abraham's gaze locked onto the black wolf beside Arian. In that instant, Shadwolf's telepathic growl vibrated through Arian's mind.

Arian didn't hesitate—he planted himself squarely before Shadwolf, blocking Abraham's line of sight.

A crooked smirk twisted Abraham's lips as he drawled with dripping condescension:
«Sorry, boy. We evaluate your capabilities here—not pets your family bought you.»

Laughter rippled through the hall. But Arian—neither shamed nor cowed—stepped forward until he stood nose-to-nose with the scarred examiner.

«Shadwolf. Go to Master. This exam is mine to face.» He didn’t flinch as the wolf retreated. «Good boy.»
Then, locking eyes with Abraham: «As for you, esteemed judge? Save the commentary. Start the trial. Those crowds outside didn’t come for speeches—they came for a show.»

The hall froze in disbelief. Not only had this child shown zero fear before Abraham—he’d stood his ground against him.

Abraham’s laughter boomed like cannonfire:
«HAHAHA! This is what I’ve been looking for!» He waved dismissively. «All candidates—positions! We begin Phase One shortly.»

Outside the hall, crowds gaped open-mouthed at magical projections of Arian facing down the examiner.

King Andreas’s chuckle cut through the silence:
«I like this boy. He’s got spine. Wants him for my faction at school.»

«Rebellious brats aren’t my taste.» King Dracensius’s voice thickened with disapproval. «Keep him, Andreas.»

«What occupies your thoughts, Eldinor?» King Roxelius’s crimson eyes narrowed.

The Elven King’s gaze remained fixed on the projection. «That boy’s face… it feels disturbingly familiar, Roxelius.»

«You leave your libraries?» The vampire king chuckled. «Rumors claim you’ve not stepped beyond your study in decades.»

«Says the sovereign who only hunts prey.» Eldinor’s tone frosted over.

«Enough.» Andreas’s voice sliced through their sparring, his eyes steel. «When the trial begins, I care only for results.»

Inside the exam hall, Abraham observed the candidates—his expression a cipher no one could decipher.

«Save your shock! Those failures were fools—now you better prove you’ve got half this boy’s grit.» Abraham’s scar twisted as he smirked. «Listen close. Your practical trial has three stages—each more vicious than the last.»

Candidates exchanged panicked glances. Realization dawned: this was no academic test. Cold sweat beaded on foreheads as the air thickened with fear.

«What? Thought a pretty greeting would grant entry?» He spat on the marble floor. «This is Krosalis, not Salem Heights! Stage One tests raw endurance. No mana allowed. You’ll withstand crushing gravity and blistering heat—or break.»

His fist slammed against a stone pillar.
«No more talk. BEGIN.»

Before Abraham’s final word faded, gravity quintupled.

CRUNCH.
Dozens of candidates face-planted onto the frigid stone, noses and cheekbones shattering—the sickening snaps echoing through the hall. Outside, parents flinched at the projections, stomachs churning.

Yet two figures stood unmoved: A towering vampire youth (judging by his warrior’s braids and obsidian training leathers), his expression bored as dust motes settled around him A dragonkin boy, younger but thick-muscled as a siege engine, whose boots seemed welded to the floor. 

In the hall's far corner, a silver-haired boy with striking black streaks had stunned the onlookers—a mere nine-year-old! By vampire or dragon standards, he’d still be swaddled as an infant, yet this "babe" outperformed grown warriors.

As the crowd murmured in admiration, he hissed under his breath:
«Ugh—distracted! Should’ve stood like those two. Pathetic.»
His knuckles whitened. «All that training with Zinarphil... beaten by baby giants? Unacceptable.»

Blood streamed from Arian’s injured knee, mingling with the blood of others on the floor. Suddenly, the sickening gurgle of pooling blood echoed through the hall.

Many still hadn’t adapted to the crushing gravity when the temperature spiked violently.

Scorching heat radiated from the walls, swirling toward the center. Sweat drenched every candidate within seconds. Soon, those with lower endurance collapsed—unconscious, broken.

The bloodsucker now wavered, buckling under the heat’s assault—a natural enemy to his kind.

Arian, however, stood unnervingly composed—even thriving. His sharp focus drew more eyes than before, precisely what Zinarphil had feared.

Andreas pierced the Dragon King with a razor-edged grin:
«Congratulations, Dracensius. Your bastard whelp packs quite the punch.»

Dracensius replied, frost crystallizing in his tone:
«Gratitude—but raw power alone is crude. He remains… unrefined.»

Andreas shrugged, waving a dismissive hand:
«Gods, you dragons and your impossible standards!»
His gaze sharpened, shifting toward the hall:
«Though truthfully? That silver-streaked brat who stood down Abraham? That’s the one snatching my interest.»

Inside the exam hall—as the kings sparred verbally outside—Phase One concluded.

The cost was clear:
Candidates littered the floor like broken dolls. Shattered cheekbones from gravity slams. Skin blistered to raw meat by the searing heat.

Abraham’s boot crunched over a dropped vial as he surveyed the carnage.
«Well well. Most of you didn’t completely disgrace yourselves.»
His scar pulled taut with a mocking smirk.
«The pathetic weaklings? Gone. We started with 121. Now? Thirty remain.»

He paused, letting the number hang like a blade.
«Ten more of you»—his eyes scraped over their twitching faces—
«will be eliminated before the next phase. Starting… now.»

«No speeches. Straight to business.» Abraham’s voice cracked like a whip.
«Phase Two: First, channel your raw mana into this crystal.» He gestured as attendants wheeled in pulsating monoliths.
«Then? You punch that column—» he jabbed a thumb at obsidian pillars—«using every drop of mana you’ve got.»

A sardonic pause.
«Go rest. Or try to.»

His next words iced the air:
«Now for rankings.»
Candidates froze mid-breath.
«Third: Arian.»
«Second: Maru.»
«First… Drekarön Argolin.»

Two hours had bled away since Phase One’s end. Now, the thirty remaining candidates stood huddled in corners of the hall—faces etched with varying shades of dread.

Abraham’s voice shattered the silence like glass:
«Enough waiting. Phase Two begins.»
He gestured toward two pulsating crystalline orbs.
«Channel your raw mana into these. No explanations. No second chances.»
His scarred lip curled. «First volunteer? Step up.»

A ripple of hesitation passed through the crowd. Eyes darted, seeking courage.

Then—a boy raised his hand from the shadows.

He moved forward: brown hair tousled like a crow’s nest, face still round with youth’s softness. And when he passed, some swore they caught it—
...the lingering scent of childhood honesty.

Abraham barked at the brown-haired boy:
«Kid. Here. Now. Channel your raw mana into the crystal—quickly. Let’s see your element and Core rank.»

The candidate obeyed. Light flared within the crystal—
Wind affinity. Mid-level Red Core.

One by one, others followed.

Arian paced, nails digging into his palms—
«Papa! Calm down!» Shadwolf’s whine pierced his mind. «Your nerves are jabbing my skull!»

Arian froze, startled:
«Sorry, Shadwolf… Wait. You can feel my emotions from there?»

The wolf’s mental voice brightened:
«Yeah! Must be ’cause I’m stronger now!»
A pause, then conspiratorial awe:
«…Papa? I’ve never seen Zinarphil look this tense before.»

«Later, Shadwolf,» Arian pulsed back, eyes blazing with focus.
«Right now? I need to see what Maru and Drekaron are truly made of.»

Maru stepped forward first—a blur of obsidian leather. His palms slammed onto the crystal.

Blue light lanced through the hall.
The air itself crackled, frosting over in jagged patterns. Maru’s power didn’t just manifest—it conquered, turning breath to ice shards in lungs.

From the observation gallery, a chorus of hisses—
Bloodsucker pride, sharp and cold as the display itself.

Abraham didn’t blink.
«Maru. Water affinity. Orange Core.»
A beat of loaded silence.
«Next.»

Drekaron stepped forward—and the hall itself recoiled.

With each step, heat radiated from him in visible waves, spiking the temperature until even Phase One’s furnace-like trial seemed tame. His palm met the crystal—

Red light exploded.
Not just red—molten. The core glowed like lava churning in a volcano’s heart, casting hellish shadows across marble walls.

Abraham didn’t flinch.
«Drekaron. Fire affinity. Orange Core.»

«Steady now, Arian…» he chanted inwardly, knuckles white.
«You’ve done this before. Just repeat it.»

He closed his azure eyes—plunging deep within.

Mana flowed from his Core, coiling through veins like liquid starlight…
Until it hit.

A scalding wave erupted—
Ripping past his heart, scorching pathways raw, wildfire in his blood.
Growth. Exponential. Uncontrolled.

Around him, air warped like heat-haze.
The crystal shuddered—not glowing, but convulsing—
As if begging to shatter.

In the Judges' Corner
The blind seer stood apart—his sightlessness a deliberate trade.
For the Eye of Insight now raged within his mind.

And what it showed him now—

«THIS BOY IS A MONSTER.»
His mental roar tore through his own consciousness.
«How did I not see it sooner?!»

The truth detonated behind his sealed eyelids:
Arian’s power—an abyssal depth sealed behind fragile flesh.
«His mana veins…» The seer’s soul recoiled. «…aren’t veins. They’re fucking cosmic scars.»

No human. No elf. No thing he’d ever witnessed in eons of watching—
Not even the First Legends—
Held such tainted starlight in their blood.

«Creator of Realms…»
Dread iced his thoughts.
«What abyss-born creature have You unleashed?»

Jaws hung slack. Breath stalled.
In a world where single-element mages were the norm—and rare prodigies mastered three—
This boy seemed to bend reality itself to his will.

The crystal screamed.
Blue → Crimson → Emerald → Earthen Brown—
Colors cycled like a mad god’s palette, faster, wilder.

But the true horror?
Arian’s mana swelled
Violent. Ravenous.
The crystal shrieked, fissures spiderwebbing across its surface.
One heartbeat from detonation.

Scorching winds whipped around him.
Stone beneath his feet glowed molten red
As if the earth itself knelt to its new ruler.

Arian—Elemental Sovereign. The title hung in the scorched air like a decree.

His mana volume and the crystal’s near-shattering threshold confirmed it:
Late-stage Orange Core.
For a first-year student? An abomination of potential.

Finally, Arian dragged in a shuddering breath—
Severed the mana flow—
And opened his eyes.

The crystal was gone from his sight.
Replacing it:
The faces of kings.
And in their eyes—
Whirlpools of disbelief, unraveling certainty, and the birth of a new, terrifying calculus.