The murmurs in the square softened slowly into silence as Brahm stepped onto the raised wooden platform.

Today, even he looked different.

Gone was the plain attire, the rolled sleeves, the dust of the yard clinging to his boots. Instead, he wore a long, dark coat trimmed with subtle silver threading along the seams.

The fabric was neat, structured, and formal without being too ornate. His hair had been combed back neatly, and the short beard he always had was trimmed. A ceremonial clasp bearing the guild’s crest fastened his collar.

He looked like a judge.

Like the pillar of the growing town that he truly was.

He stood at the center of the platform and let his gaze sweep across the square — over the elders in their layered robes, over the gathered hunters, over the families dressed in their finest.

When he finally spoke, his voice effortlessly reached everyone.

"Welcome, everyone."

It was a simple greeting, still full of authority.

"Today marks the final day of this coming-of-age ceremony."

A few parents straightened in anticipation. Some of the youths swallowed unconsciously.

"For the last few days, these youths have tested their strength, their endurance, their will, and their discipline. They have bled, fallen, risen again, and pushed beyond their limits."

His eyes briefly passed over Teclos, Ralph, and Gillard—acknowledging their effort.

"Today," Brahm continued, "these fine young men and women will choose their path."

A ripple of anticipation moved through the crowd.

"Some will pursue the hunter’s road. Some will seek crafting, some will choose to be a trader, or accept a scholarship. Some may leave this town in search of greater horizons."

He paused, letting the words settle in the minds of the people.

"And even if they do not succeed immediately — even if they stumble or fail — Kolma will not cast them aside."

His tone was firm.

"This town does not abandon its own. Kolma will welcome them with open arms and put them to work. There is always a place for those willing to give effort."

That made most people there nod their heads. Murmurs of approval rippled across the crowd.

Relief flickered across more than a few parents’ faces.

Behind him, four hunters stepped forward carrying something between them.

The rune stone.

It was not large enough to be imposing with size alone—roughly the width of a chest—but its presence demanded attention.

It was perfectly square with clean edges and symmetrical faces.

It rested upon a wooden pillar roughly one meter tall. The pillar itself was carved in a spiraling weave; several wooden bands had been twisted upward around a central core. Blue runes were etched along the spirals in careful sequences, each line precise, glowing faintly like veins of captured sky.

The stone atop it was a darker shade—not quite gray, nor pitch black, but something in between. A deep shade that absorbed light rather than reflected it.

Red runes covered every visible surface.

They weren’t random, but were intentionally placed.

Pulsing softly, faintly but unmistakable. Like it was alive.

This was no ordinary rock. Even those with weaker mana could feel it—a subtle pressure in the air around it, like it was the focal point of a contained storm of power.

These stones were apparently supplied by the emperor himself.

The hunters secured it firmly to the pedestal.

Brahm stepped beside it.

"This artifact," he said, resting one hand lightly against the wooden pillar, "will reveal what effort you have put in throughout the years."

His gaze shifted toward the youths standing together in their formal attire.

"I will call you up here, one by one."

A hush fell completely over the square.

He then glanced at a parchment in his hand.

"Eldric."

A boy near the middle stiffened.

"Step forward."

For a heartbeat, he did not move.

But with a nudge from someone behind him, he finally stepped forward, stiff like a log.

His steps resounded loudly on the stone as he stomped his way over, no doubt a nervous wreck.

Teclos watched carefully.

Eldric’s shoulders were tense and his jaw was clenched.

His parents leaned forward from the crowd, hands clasped tightly and murmuring prayers to the gods.

When he reached the platform, Brahm gestured toward the stone.

"Place your palm in the center," he instructed calmly.

Carved into the front face of the cube was the outline of a hand—slightly recessed, shaped to fit a palm perfectly.

Eldric swallowed and placed his hand against it.

For a moment—

There was nothing.

His blood drained from his face as nothing happened, but then Brahm instructed him further, with a palm on his face and shaking his head in disbelief.

"Channel your mana already, boy."

A few chuckles escaped the crowd.

He inhaled sharply and began channeling his mana, beet red from embarrassment.

The red runes flickered to life and brightened.

One by one, they ignited like embers catching flame.

A low hum vibrated through the pedestal, resonating with the blue runes spiraled along the wood.

Then—

A dome expanded outward from the stone.

It moved quickly and smoothly, like a breath exhaled in winter, visible. Within a heartbeat, it formed a translucent sphere around Eldric, roughly three meters in radius.

A faint white mist filled its surface, swirling softly like fog trapped inside glass.

Gasps broke out among some of the onlookers.

Teclos leaned forward slightly; although he was very interested, he didn’t want to be obvious.

On the inner surface of the mist, runes began to appear.

They did not all manifest at once, but instead wrote themselves slowly.

Line by line.

First was overall vitality.

A numerical value shimmered into place, followed by a glyph indicating physical health.

Next was current mana capacity.

The crowd murmured, intrigued.

And lastly—

Mana circles.

The runes shifted, listing their locations—core, heart, mind—and the number formed in each.

Stability indicators followed, each circle marked with a percentage-like rune describing density and cohesion between the circles.

Finally—

Affinity appeared.

The last set of runes glowed slightly brighter before settling into place.

Eldric had a wind affinity.

A modest glow pulsed once in confirmation.

The dome remained for several long seconds, allowing everyone to read it.

Eldric stared at it in awe and wonder.

Then, slowly, the light dimmed.

The dome collapsed inward like mist dispersing under sunlight.

The red runes on the cube faded back to their resting glow, and silence held the square for half a breath longer.

Then the murmurs began in earnest.

Some impressed by the stone’s function.

Some calculating where to put Eldric to work.

And his parents, finally relieved that their son made it through.

Brahm nodded once.

"Well done. Step down now."

Eldric withdrew his hand, looking dazed, and returned to his family.

Brahm then glanced at the parchment again.

"Next."

The name rang out, and another youth stepped forward.

Then another.

And another.

One by one they approached the stone, pressed their trembling palms into the carved outline, and fed their mana into the waiting runes.

Each time the red runes flared to life. Each time the white dome blossomed outward in a soft rush of mist. Each time the runes inscribed themselves across the curved surface, laying bare effort, talent, and their limits to the people’s eyes.

Some results were modest—two circles, slightly unstable. Average vitality. A narrow mana capacity that hinted at years more work ahead.

Others drew murmurs of approval.

A girl with sharp eyes, Samara, revealed three circles—one in the core, one in the heart, one newly forming in the mind. Her water affinity glowed bright blue and clean. And after she was done, applause followed her off the stage.

Then Gillard’s name was called up.

He stepped forward without any hesitation.

His broad shoulders covered the rune stone entirely, confident as if to say that he already belonged there. When he pressed his palm to the imprint and channeled his mana, the response was immediate—strong and steady.

The dome formed.

Runes wrote themselves swiftly.

Four circles.

Two in the core and one each in the heart and mind.

They were dense, stable, and strong.

His vitality reading was significantly above average—a reflection of his monstrous physical strength for his age. His mana capacity, though not extraordinary, was solid and well-structured.

Affinity: Fire.

It flared a deep, crimson-gold.

The crowd responded with cheers.

The hunters nodded approvingly, noting him as their own already.

Fire affinity paired with that physical foundation? A true gem, they thought.

His father’s booming laughter echoed across the square as he clapped loudly, nearly knocking another man off balance.

"That’s my son!"

Gillard stepped down with his usual stoic composure, though the faint upward tilt at the corner of his mouth betrayed his satisfaction.

Teclos caught his eye and gave him a thumbs up.

Gillard returned it with a subtle nod.

After a few more youths, Ralph was called.

He approached light-footed, but no less confident than Gillard.

He pressed his palm against the stone and let his mana flow.

The dome expanded.

Four circles as well—one core, two heart, one mind.

They were balanced and stable circles.

His mana capacity was higher than Gillard’s, and his overall percentages were impressively even across the board besides agility, which was high.

Affinity: Wind.

It shimmered in a pale silver light, stable and refined.

A murmur of impressed approval and cheers followed again, just like with Gillard. Wind hunters were adaptable. Tactical assets, and quick.

Ralph’s family cheered with bright smiles, their pride was unmistakable.

When he stepped down, Teclos met him with a grin.

"Not bad."

Ralph smiled and said with a thumbs up. "Show them that there is a step above."

The parchment in Brahm’s hand rustled as he turned another page.

Several more youths followed.

The crowd’s reactions rose and fell like tides—pleased sighs, restrained applause, the occasional disappointed silence. The only noteworthy one was Loric, with much the same results as Ralph and Gillard.

Then—

Brahm’s voice echoed again.

"Teclos."

It was a simple call.

But to Teclos, it struck like a drumbeat.

For a split second, his back stiffened.

An old reflex.

Like being called to the chalkboard in school or being called into a performance check meeting at work.

Every gaze suddenly shifted to him.

He exhaled slowly and stepped forward.

The nervousness tried to claw up his throat, but he crushed it down. Up until that point, he had already endured discriminating gazes, harsh training, and even a life-and-death situation.

This was nothing compared to those times.

The platform creaked faintly under his boots as he approached.

He looked at the hand-shaped carving, placed his palm against it, and pushed his mana forward.

The response was instantaneous.

The red runes did not just flicker.

They ignited.

Brighter than anyone else before.

The hum from the pedestal deepened, resonating like a struck bell.

The dome erupted outward in a clean, smooth expansion—it was more defined.

White mist swirled densely across its surface.

Then the runes began to write on the dome’s surface.

Overall vitality—

High.

His mana capacity—

The symbols shifted, recalculated, and brightened.

Gasps and disbelief stirred among the hunters first.

He was already at a novice hunter level.

At this age.

The next shock didn’t take long to hit the crowd.

Mana circles.

The first rune appeared and showed two circles in the core. After that was the heart—again two circles.

The murmur grew as the crowd saw that it wasn’t finished yet.

Lastly was the mind, with one circle shining.

Stunned silence followed.

Five circles—and to top it all off, they were stable and strong.

Each of the circles displayed unusual strength and powerful flow, usually present at higher levels. Like they were supporting each other.

Even the elders were stunned now.

Finally, for affinity—

The line began to carve itself into the mist.

The color manifested slowly—and instead of shining brightly—

It swallowed light.

Like a deep, intense onyx color—ready to swallow the world whole.

It was the Darkness affinity.

The dome of mist held firm, for everyone to see.

The square went utterly silent.

Hunters stared at him, assessing his worth that had just shifted the scale of their expectations.

Townfolk looked at him, stunned, as if trying to understand what they were seeing.

A monster, some thought.

A genius, others believed.

Even Brahm’s expression—composed as ever—had stilled. The faintest tightening around his eyes betrayed the calculation of Teclos’s worth in his mind, and how to refine this rough gem for the benefit of the town.

This many circles at fourteen.

Three more than some who stood beside him on that podium.

Even one extra circle created a gap that could take years to close.

Three?

That was not a gap, but a deep chasm.

Talmir’s chest swelled as if he might burst from the pride radiating off him without restraint.

Father Pella also beamed openly, a smile spreading across his face.

Saldia—

She was a crying wreck.

Hands pressed to her mouth, tears slipping freely down her cheeks like a waterfall, her smile trembling with emotions she could not contain.

Their son would finally be acknowledged, they thought.

Among the youths, the reactions were quieter.

Some were awed.

Some felt envy.

And others were frustrated, simply staring and feeling the unfairness of life settle heavily in their stomachs.

Then the dome finally dimmed, and the mist dissolved.

The red runes on the stone faded back to their resting glow.

Teclos withdrew his hand slowly, almost regretfully.

The square remained silent for one long heartbeat more.

Then sound returned all at once—murmurs, whispers, disbelieving exhalations, and a few over-the-top cheers.

He stepped down from the platform.

He stood proudly.

As if to declare, here I am. And you shall witness me.