Chapter 7 - Testing Centre

  The inside of the carriage was quiet, filled with a nervous tension that clung to the air like morning fog, faint but unshakable. Jacob sat by the window, his eyes locked onto the passing scenery but not really seeing any of it.

  His fingers tapped against the wooden window ledge with an absent rhythm, a subtle habit he'd developed over the years, an unintentional melody that only made itself known when his nerves were stretched thin.

  No one in their right mind would blame him for feeling the way he did. Today was the day. The day of his aspect testing. The moment his mana would be examined and categorized. After today, there would be no ambiguity. He would either be a sorcerer worth noticing or just another name among the thousands who awakened to mediocrity.

  Across from him sat Belemir, his ever-stoic attendant, a calm smile brushing the corners of his lips as he observed the young master.

  It was good to see Jacob this way, nervous, yes, but also excited in a way that betrayed just how much this meant to him. Belemir had watched the boy grow up, watched him fumble through runes, trip over incantations, fall asleep with dusty tomes for pillows. Now, finally, all that work would be given weight.

  The carriage rolled smoothly through the cobbled streets of Marvshire District, the part of the capital reserved for the most influential nobles in Eterna. It was a place of quiet grandeur, where towering stone estates stood surrounded by vast manicured gardens, each property positioned far enough from the next to ensure privacy and status.

  Every estate belonged to a family with lands and titles elsewhere, counts, dukes, margraves but here in the capital, they were permitted only one residence, and they made sure it left an impression.

  Past Marvshire was Bravehearth, the beating heart of Eterna's administration, home to towering halls and associations that governed everything from trade regulations to military deployments.

  The carriage passed the headquarters of the Valiant Sword, Eterna’s most prestigious knightly order. The building stretched across what looked like four mansions, its crimson roof held up by red marble pillars. Through its open courtyard, one could see rows of knights-in-training, striking with rhythm and precision.

  Not long after, the Sorcerers’ Association came into view. The structure was impossible to ignore. It looked like a forest of pillars, each one different in hue, emerald, sapphire, amethyst rising into the clouds like the trunks of ancient world-trees. Glass tunnels wove through them like veins, connecting the towers in a latticework of arcane symmetry.

  Each pillar bore runes, some small and others the size of a man, etched in bright inks or burned directly into the stone. Every time a new rune was discovered and verified, it was carved into one of the pillars. To have your original rune placed here was a distinction few ever achieved.

  Finally, they arrived.

  The Aspect Testing Centre was far less imposing than the structures before it but no less important. A modest building, by noble standards at least standing four stories tall, with sleek tinted glass panels that lined its outer walls. It was a place of precision and scrutiny. As Jacob looked up at the building, he felt his heart begin to pound harder inside his chest. This was it. No more hypotheticals. No more theories. Only truth.

  The carriage slowed to a halt, and Belemir stepped out first, moving briskly to open the door. Jacob descended with controlled steps, his face composed despite the storm in his chest. Two middle-aged men approached them, officials, judging by the subtle blue thread woven into their black robes.

  “Young Master Jacob,” one of them said, bowing slightly, “it’s an honour to have you tested today. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer we clear the schedule? You could be tested alone, without the others.”

  Jacob shook his head before brushing past them. “No. I’m sure.”

  Belemir chuckled softly behind him. “Forgive the shortness. He’s eager to begin. Doesn’t want to waste time on ceremony.”

  The men nodded understandingly. “Of course. A momentous day, no doubt.”

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  Jacob ignored the rest and pushed through the double doors into the main reception hall. Inside, dozens of wooden desks were arranged in organized rows, each manned by an attendant wearing a bronze pin shaped like a quill scribbling on an open book, the mark of a scholar.

  “Jacob,” a voice called. He turned to see a young man approaching him, not older than thirty. The man had striking sky-blue eyes and neatly combed blond hair. He wore a crimson robe adorned with golden stitching, and on his chest shone a gold insignia of the scholar’s quill.

  “You’re the fourth to arrive,” the man said, gesturing toward a door on the right. There was no ‘young master,’ no bow, no flattery. But it didn’t matter.

  This was Rivius Slethin, the youngest Sixth-Rank mage in Eterna, and a rising star of the powerful Slethin family, the greatest mage lineage in the entire kingdom. He didn’t need to bow to anyone.

  Jacob followed the gesture and made his way toward the indicated door. His steps appeared calm, deliberate, even proud to any casual observer, but inside, his thoughts were racing. His breathing was shallow, his palms slightly damp. He clung to the mental discipline his brother Alex had drilled into him over the years, holding it like a lifeline.

  The room behind the door was wide and spacious, the walls lined with shelves stacked high with books so old their pages had yellowed to parchment. At the centre of the room, atop a pedestal, sat an open book surrounded by floating runes, gently pulsing with faint light. The runes swirled in the air with the same quiet rhythm of breath steady, ancient, and unknowable.

  There were five chairs lined up along one wall. Three were already occupied.

  Jacob took his seat at the far end and allowed himself a brief glance at the others.

  The first was a boy who couldn’t have been more than nine. He was pale and scrawny, his orange hair matted to his forehead with sweat, his hands trembling as he gnawed nervously at his fingernails. He looked like a frightened rabbit.

  Next to him was a black-haired young man a few years older than Jacob. He sat straight and motionless, with sharp eyes and a cold demeanour. There was something distant about him, as if his mind was far away from the room, calculating things no one else could see. Jacob got the impression that speaking to him would be unwelcome.

  Then, next to Jacob, was a boy around his age. He had black hair and red eyes, tanned skin stretched over a muscular but lean frame that looked more knight than mage. Despite his strength, there was a cheerfulness to him, an ease that made him seem approachable. He flashed a wide grin when Jacob looked his way.

  “Nice to see someone my age here,” the boy said, voice warm and friendly. “Name’s Arthur. What about you?”

  Jacob blinked. Did he not recognize him? Maybe it was arrogant to assume, but Jacob had grown up believing that most people in the kingdom knew who he was.

  “Jacob,” he said, keeping his tone neutral.

  Before he could retreat into a book, Arthur suddenly leaned forward and grabbed his hand with a firm grip. “Jacob, huh? That’s a strong name. You look nervous though. Are you?”

  Jacob tried to pull his hand away, but Arthur’s grip was surprisingly strong. Eventually, he gave up and answered honestly.

  “I am,” he admitted. “Aren’t you?”

  “Oh, I’m terrified,” Arthur said cheerfully. “I was training to be a knight until I awakened to mana a month ago. Surprised the hell out of me. Now I’m here hoping I don’t end up with a terrible aspect.”

  That explained the physique, Jacob thought. The boy’s body had the kind of lean strength that came from practical training, not magical study.

  Arthur dropped his hand, sensing the discomfort, but kept talking. “There’s a saying that there are no useless aspects, but I’d still prefer something strong. I’ve got siblings to look after.”

  “You’re not a noble?” Jacob asked, surprised. How had someone of common birth secured a place at the capital’s testing centre?

  Arthur scratched the back of his head and smiled. “Used to be, I think. That’s what my father told me. House fell into ruin a few generations back. We’re barely scraping by now.”

  Jacob frowned. That kind of fall from grace wasn’t uncommon, but the fact that Arthur was still allowed to test here meant his family must’ve once held significant influence. He made a mental note to read up on ruined houses with red eyes and black hair.

  “Still,” Arthur continued, “if I make it as a scholar, maybe I can buy a house. Get the kids a real roof, you know?”

  “You… don’t have a house?” Jacob asked, wide-eyed.

  Arthur laughed. “Nah. We’re staying with a merchant who claims he owes my family. Couldn’t keep the house after my father died.”

  There was something odd about Arthur, he was talking about things that would have crushed most people, but he smiled the entire time. It wasn’t a fake grin either. It was genuine.

  “Aren’t you sad? Angry? That your family’s gone, that you're broke, that your siblings rely on someone else?”

  Arthur shrugged. “I was sad. But sadness never helped anyone succeed. You keep moving forward, or you fall behind. And hey, I’m here now. I might even make a friend.”

  He flashed Jacob a dazzling smile that showed off perfect teeth. Jacob scowled.

  “Hey, I’m not your—”

  The door opened before he could finish. Everyone turned.

  A tall, pale figure stepped inside. Blue hair, skin nearly translucent, and eyes the colour of bleached bone. Hollow and unreadable.

  Jacob straightened immediately.

  It was Abel Ranti. Heir of the Ranti family second only to Jacob’s in magical power and influence. A family known for producing scholars who looked more corpse than human.

  Abel said nothing as he sat beside Jacob, and Jacob said nothing in return.

  Everyone was here.

  Soon, the testing would begin.

  And Jacob’s journey as a mage would finally begin, for better or worse.