The final evening before the physical exam found Dean finishing out his usual routine. He did his two sets of 100 pushups, ran the obstacle course half a dozen times, and did pullups on the high bar until it felt like his arms were going to detach from their sockets.

  He wasn’t the only one. The training hall had been packed for the past week as those who remained readied themselves for the task to come. Sparring, weightlifting, and agility training were a must for everyone who wanted the opportunity to clear a dungeon and compete for a badge.

  There is a lot of talent here Dean observed as he watched a warrior named Andre execute a perfect backflip off of the obstacle course. Trainees with enough skill to make potent Adventurers. If the guilds haven’t snapped them up and bound them with contracts for the next ten years, they will soon enough.

  Dean snagged a towel from the clean pile, wiping the sweat from his brow before it could sting his eyes. He knew the reality. Every Trainee in this hall had the potential to earn their badge. There were those among him who would make a name for themselves, going on to climb the ranks into ascension. And others? Well. There were some among them that wouldn’t make it back home. It was just the nature of things, or so he tried to tell himself.

  “Heads up.”

  Finn tossed Dean a water flask, which he caught in mid-air. The water was fresh and cool, and Dean hadn’t realized just how thirsty he’d been until he’d guzzled half of it in the span of a few seconds.

  “Good grief man, at least remember to replace the water you’re losing. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone sweat as much as you. Tell me you’ve at least eaten?”

  “I ate breakfast.”

  Finnegan rolled his eyes.

  “Breakfast? It’s one hour before bloody dusk, you buffoon. Go home to your sister and get a hot meal before we leave this evening. Trust me, you’re going to need your strength.”

  Dean opened his mouth to argue, but his stomach betrayed him by letting out a high-pitched gurgle. Finn only grinned, and reluctantly, Dean gathered his things. He’d trained as hard as he was able, but his friend was right. If he wanted to be prepared for tomorrow morning, then he was going to need his rest.

  “What time are we expected back?” he asked, handing back the water flask. Finn waved a hand.

  “Keep it, I have a spare. As for the time frame, the proctors requested we arrive right as the sun goes down. You’ll need to bring any gear you need for overnight. I’m told it’s quite a hike. Five hours to the campsite on foot.”

  Dean nodded.

  Sundown… that would give him enough time to eat, wash, and pack if he booked it back promptly.

  “Hey, Dean.”

  He looked up in the process of racking his heavy training sword.

  “Listen, I know it’s not my place to pry. But I’m a bit concerned, I must admit. That run-in you had with the academy watchmen. You know, the one where Shae uh, put him to sleep. We were anticipating some sort of trouble to come from it. A formal complaint or a warrant for your arrest at the very least. But there has been silence. The academy watch hasn’t even so much as questioned us about the incident.”

  Dean raised a brow.

  “Isn’t that a good thing?”

  Finnegan ran a hand through his hair, momentarily revealing his pointed ears as he shook his head.

  “I don’t know. On one hand, it might be that the magistrate has decided to leave you alone for now. Maybe he decided it wasn’t worth the risk or trouble. On the other…”

  “Vawn isn’t the type to forgive,” finished Dean grimly.

  “My thoughts exactly. If he was bold enough to directly interfere with your participation in the written exam, there is a chance he’ll do the same here, proctors or not. Just be careful, alright?”

  Dean smiled as he hooked the flask onto the loop of his belt.

  “Oh, I will. But believe me, when I say I’m not entirely unprepared.”

  Finn gave him a suspicious look.

  “And that means what exactly?

  Dean patted his friend on the shoulder before turning towards the door.

  “It means that I’m not a fool. I know the risks and have taken a few measures of my own.”

  When he arrived home, his sister wasn’t in the house. He walked through the back, checking the makeshift forge behind the house for any sign of her. But the coals in the forge fire were burned low. His sister wasn’t here. Dean felt a wave of disappointment, but he pushed it aside. Sylvie was an apprentice, and her work always picked up around autumn. Horseshoes, nails, and building supplies were always in demand when the weather cooled – though he knew his sister's talents meant she was capable of far more. He went inside to wash and dress, making sure to pack clean clothes, a bedroll, and extra food. He wrapped the dried meat, cheese, and apples in a cloth, storing them in his pack. Then he went over his checklist again to be sure he hadn’t missed anything.

  “Well, I guess that’s it.” Dean hoisted the pack over his shoulder, grunting at the weight. It was a tradition for Trainees to carry their supplies by hand for the trek. Something they would have to do as Adventurers if their inventories were full of loot anyway. Somehow it reminded him of the long walks he used to take on patrol. Back before the whole world went to shit.

  Dean paused at the kitchen table, pulling a fountain pen from its inkwell to scratch a note for his sister. Then, after a moment of staring around at the empty house, he made his way out the door.

  The Trek to the front gate was faster than his walk home had been. The streets had grown less crowded as the sun made its way across the sky. Now it had all but disappeared, leaving behind nothing but an orange streak in the sky as the stars began to appear.

  Dean wore his armor as well as his sword and knife. In his pack was a list of sanctioned items he would be allowed to enter the dungeon with. The rules for the exam were strict, and he knew that the proctors would be on the lookout for any attempts to cheat. It was better to be safe than to try to cut corners. Especially in his situation.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  There were no signs of any academy guardsmen. Finn, it seemed, had been right about the situation. An accusation or arrest attempt could have been rightly made, but the stark silence was far more troubling. For the third time since leaving his home, Dean checked his gear, his fingers pausing as they found the worn handle of his mother's knife. It had served him well through back alley fights, major battles, and even through the moment in which he had faced down death. Funny how it seemed so long ago.

  But this is a new chapter. One that will influence my fate one way or another.

  He sighed, dropping his hand to his side. He knew what the outcome of the exam would be. One way or another, he was going to pass and earn his place as an Iron Ranker. He couldn’t afford to lose, not with so much at stake.

  A group of watchmen rounded the corner up ahead, and Dean tensed for a moment before recognizing them as lower city guard. They didn’t even give him a second look as they passed, a treatment he was far more comfortable with.

  When the main gate finally came into sight over the rooftops of the main building, Dean let out a sigh of relief. Most of the trainees were either sitting or standing around, and it looked like almost all were here.

  “Ah, so you came after all.”

  Dean turned to see Ryu lounging against the wall. His massive Warhammer was holstered in a leather strap on his back, and he seemed wholly at ease in comparison to those around him. Dean tilted his head.

  “Did you expect any different?”

  Ryu’s lips quirked upwards as he dragged a hand along a scar on his forearm.

  “From you? No. At this stage, there are plenty of poor souls who back out when they realize what it is they are up against. Failing this exam doesn’t just mean not passing. It can mean serious injury, even death. After all, that is what we face in the field, is it not?”

  Ryu was right. Though there were dozens of trainees around, dusk was approaching, and there weren’t nearly as many as there should have been. Had some of them really forfeited after making it this far?

  Or do they know something that we don’t.

  “You said failing the exam could mean injury or death,” Dean pointed out. “I take that to mean you know about the exam. Care to share that information?”

  Ryu pushed off the wall, his steady confident smirk as unyielding as ever as he brushed past Dean.

  “Now,” he said. “Whatever would be the fun in that.”

  “He’s as annoying and cryptic as ever.” Shae waltzed up beside him, her axe propped on one shoulder as she watched Ryu stalk away to rejoin his party. She was wearing upgraded armor, and her helmet had a rune carved into it’s raised visor.

  “Is that an enchanted item?” asked Dean, impressed. Shae smirked.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know.” Her eyes swept over him, and she raised a brow. “You aren’t the only one with upgrades. That looks like Arno’s work, if I’m not mistaken. He’s a good choice, gear he makes is prone to hold up even in dire circumstances.”

  I know.

  During the war, Arno had become known as a quality smith for the average lay soldier. His work was strong, durable, and known to hold up even against magic attacks and demon fire. It was a great first set of armor, and one Dean hoped would last him for the next few months. Or at least until he could afford to upgrade.

  Finn and Ten materialized out of the crowd by the gate, waving them down as they approached.

  “You seem in good spirits,” said Dean, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

  Finn adjusted the leather strap of his quiver.

  “I’m well enough. Not back to full capacity, but as close as I could hope to get given the circumstances. Now all I have are the nerves.”

  “Understatement,” muttered Shae. “I never thought I’d say I miss Koroka, but I could use a drink.”

  The reminder of the acrid drink made Dean grimace. He was about to respond when a sound interrupted him. He turned to see the mass of trainees, who had formerly been scattered near the gates in the usual cliques and groups, standing bolt upright. Every head, every eye was turned to fix on something.

  “Wow,” whispered a warrior from nearby. “Is that really…?”

  Dean followed his gaze to see a group moving towards them. But these were no ordinary city goers. Judging by their pressed uniforms and the gleaming badges pinned to their shoulders, they could only be one thing.

  “The proctors are here,” muttered Dean. There were two of them on horseback, followed by a small flock of watchmen and attendants in administrative robes. A woman led the way, her long black hair braided tightly to her head, revealing a pair of facial tattoos. A plains barbarian? She carried a long, gilded spear in her right hand, one that seemed to thrum with energy and power. But Dean was more interested in who walked behind her.

  He was less grand, with no weapon at his belt or tattoos. But Dean knew his power was no less formidable. Baron Forsa rode past him on a broad-chested charger, his reins gripped casually in his hands. On his chest, his gold rank badge gleamed in the sunlight. As he passed, Baron seemed to turn his head, his eyes fixing for a moment directly on Dean. A lazy wink was the only acknowledgment the proctor gave him, but Dean felt a surge of pride nonetheless.

  Baron had been the first to believe in him. And though he might not understand the depth of Dean’s mission and motive, he had seen the potential in him.

  Dean straightened his shoulders and stood tall, his hand resting on the blade of his broadsword. Tomorrow, he would prove that Baron’s faith in him hadn’t been misplaced.

  His or Charlotte’s.

  The Proctors and their procession slowed as they reached the front of the gate. The woman and Baron turned their horses, walking them back and forth as they surveyed the trainees before them. Dean glanced aside, noticing the windows on the nearby houses propped open. People gathered in the streets, rising on their toes to get a glimpse of the proceedings. A little girl pointed at the Adventurers, her exclamation lost as her mother clamped a hasty hand over her mouth.

  The silence itself seemed to drip with anticipation as the proctors raised their hands.

  “Good evening, candidates, and welcome to the annual physical Adventurer exam,” said the female proctor, her voice ringing out over the gathered crowd. “You have all worked hard to be here, and you now face the final hurdle standing between you and your goal. The dungeon dive.”

  She turned her stallion, moving to face them down as she stared between them. Her gold rank badge gleamed against her chest, reflected in the shifting light of her spear.

  “To earn one's badge is a great honor – a rite passed down from generations of those who can trace their lines back to the first saints themselves. Today, you stand where many before you have stood with the same hopes and expectations. To overcome this challenge, as you have overcome others and earn your right to manifest our class and call yourself one of us.”

  Dean was riveted, his gaze fixed on the proctor as she sat back her saddle.

  “But,” she said, a cold smile pulling at her lips. “Not all who stand here are owed that honor.”

  She turned her head as Baron rode forward, turning his horse to trot along the line of trainees. He stared down at them with a cold and unyielding authority, one that even Ryu seemed to respect.

  “Many of you have been told since birth that you were destined for greatness. Your families, parents, and trainers have prepared you for this moment, assuring many of you that earning your badge was your destiny. Something given, not earned.”

  He paused, gazing out across the faces that now stared up at him.

  “You were lied to. Your worth as an Adventurer is not determined by status or the circumstances of your birth. It is not determined by your sponsorship or Guild affiliation. No, whether or not you walk away from that dungeon having earned a badge is dependent on one thing and one thing alone: whether or not you are deemed worthy to wear it. Adventuring is more than an occupation. It is a solemn responsibility. When you pass through that gate for the first time and set foot in a dungeon, you will face situations more perilous than you can imagine. Every man and woman here will be expected to prove their mettle and overcome any challenges set before them. This road will be neither safe nor easy. Some fail the final exam, and more still, some suffer injury or, on some occasions, even death. This is the burden of risk every Adventurer must bare. To face down beasts, monsters, and threats beyond the abilities of most. It is more than a responsibility, it is a duty.”

  The proctor's steady gaze paused on Dean as his next words echoed in the heavy silence.

  “Are you prepared to take on that duty knowing what it may cost you?”

  Dean nodded once, and he thought he saw Baron’s lips twitch before the man looked away.

  “If there are any among you who are not, let him say so now. Once we arrive at our destination, there is no turning back.”

  The words hung in the air a moment as the trainees seemed to process them. When no one spoke or moved, Baron smiled grimly.

  “Very well. Gather yourselves and your packs. The final exam is about to begin.”