The square slowly emptied of its earlier noise, townsfolk dispersing in clusters of animated discussion while the youths were directed toward the Guild Hall for the last time.

The celebratory atmosphere among the youths shifted into something more mixed—nervous, excited, anxious, restless, and quietly hopeful.

Teclos walked with the others toward the massive stone structure dominating the center of Kolma. Now that the formal display was over, the next step awaited them: counseling from the elders.

The elders would offer guidance, suggest paths they could take, and open doors with their recommendations.

Teclos inhaled once, steadying himself, then followed the attendant who called his name after a while of waiting in the lobby.

They led him past the main hall and toward one of the larger inner chambers—usually reserved for strategy gatherings. It was where they had done the written test, though today it had been arranged differently.

At the far end of the room, a long oak table was placed, and behind it sat the ten elders of Kolma.

Ten figures who governed trade, law, guild matters, agriculture, defense, and diplomacy.

Before them, a single wooden chair was positioned, facing them directly.

Teclos stepped inside.

As he reached the chair, he did not sit down immediately, but instead bowed.

Deep enough to show them the respect they deserved.

"I greet the elders," he said evenly.

A few of them nodded almost at once.

One elder with long silver hair inclined her head approvingly.

Another stroked his beard thoughtfully.

Only then did Teclos take his seat.

He met their gazes, anticipating what path he would be recommended.

In the center of the table sat Elder Ezekiel.

He was neither the oldest nor the most physically imposing, yet authority seemed to gather naturally around him. His posture was relaxed but deliberate, fingers interlaced before him, eyes sharp beneath bushy brows.

When he spoke, his voice carried weight.

"Teclos," he began warmly, "first, allow me to say—well done."

A faint smile touched his lips.

"There is no need to be nervous. With your results, you have many paths open to you."

The words eased some invisible tension in Teclos.

Ezekiel lifted a parchment.

"Now then, let us review."

He adjusted it slightly.

"Your written examination."

His eyes flicked up briefly before continuing.

"Not full marks—but close. An excellent score overall."

Teclos listened quietly.

"Your knowledge of monsters and herbal studies was flawless. Detailed and neatly structured. Above the level expected for your age."

A few elders murmured approval at that.

"In the sections regarding noble hierarchies, territorial rulership, and kingdom politics, your answers were... somewhat less thorough."

A faint ripple of restrained amusement passed along the table.

"Still good," Ezekiel clarified. "But clearly not your area of focus."

Teclos resisted the urge to shrug.

"Mathematics and trading calculations—accurate and efficient. You would have no difficulty managing resources or running independent operations if you chose such a path."

He placed that parchment aside and lifted another.

"On to the physical examinations."

Now the tone shifted slightly.

"Simply outstanding." A slight pause before he continued.

"In every discipline, you placed within the top three—be it running, archery, striking, climbing, or endurance."

One elder leaned forward.

"Your adaptability under stress is particularly notable."

Another nodded.

"You conserve energy intelligently. It was like we were watching an already seasoned hunter."

Then Ezekiel continued.

"To perform consistently across all categories—not merely one specialty—demonstrates not only talent, but the discipline and sheer effort you have put in."

Teclos remained still.

But inside, he beamed with glee. They had recognized him.

Then Ezekiel shook his head with a smile on his face, as if he couldn’t believe it.

"And finally..."

He lifted the final document.

"Your rune stone results... At your age, even accounting for natural aptitude, this is remarkable."

He looked directly at Teclos now.

"Genius is a word thrown around carelessly. In your case, I would say it is appropriate."

A pause.

"As for your affinity... Darkness."

A few elders shifted subtly as the word hung between them.

"You are likely aware," Ezekiel continued calmly, "that this affinity is most commonly associated with undead manifestations, certain abyssal creatures, and... less reputable practitioners of mana."

Teclos nodded.

Ezekiel’s gaze sharpened slightly.

"You should not worry," he reassured him. "Here in Kolma, we don’t judge based on that superstition."

Another elder added, voice firm, "That’s right, we judge by conduct and action."

Ezekiel nodded once, then leaned back slightly.

A faint smile returned to his face.

"It would be a welcome power here on the frontier, where many dangers are lurking around the corner."

The weight of those words settled deeper than baseless praise.

It was acceptance, trust, and expectation from the elders.

Ezekiel folded his hands again.

"You stand at the beginning of adulthood, Teclos. Hunter. Scholar. Merchant. Strategist. Even leadership, in time."

His eyes softened—but only slightly.

"The question now is not what you can become." A pause. "It is what you choose to become."

Ezekiel’s final words lingered in the chamber.

Then Ezekiel reached for another parchment, thicker than the others. He adjusted it on the table and began to read.

"Based on your performance across written, physical, and mana evaluations," he said evenly, "we have assessed several viable paths."

His gaze skimmed the page.

"You possess the discipline required for structured professions. Your knowledge of herbs and monster anatomy qualifies you, even now, to apprentice formally under Kolma’s herbalist and eventually succeed the position."

A gray-haired elder to Ezekiel’s right added, "A town herbalist with combat capability is... rare. Valuable for gathering herbs deeper in the forest."

Ezekiel inclined his head slightly and continued.

"Your strategic thinking and temperament during physical trials suggest aptitude for leadership. Squad command within the hunter ranks would not be unrealistic within several years."

Another parchment shifted.

"Hunter, of course, is firmly on the short list."

There was the faintest hint of amusement in Ezekiel’s tone as Teclos twitched.

"That much seems obvious."

A few elders allowed themselves restrained smiles.

"If you wished to spread your wings beyond Kolma," Ezekiel went on, "your rune stone results would make you eligible to apply to the Royal Academy in the capital."

The word capital seemed to change the air slightly.

"Advanced mana theory. Formalized combat instruction. Political exposure. Connections that extend beyond provincial towns."

He let that sit before continuing.

"You could pursue trade as well. Your mathematical competency and self-control would allow you to succeed."

A brief pause.

"However," Ezekiel said frankly, "we would consider that a waste of your particular talents."

There was no arrogance in the statement. Only assessment.

Leadership, defense, influence. The options for his future had built up before he knew it.

Ezekiel finished reading and placed the parchment down.

"Do you have any questions, Teclos?"

The invitation was genuine.

And Teclos inhaled slowly.

"I am fairly certain," he began carefully, "that I wish to become a hunter here in Kolma."

Several elders nodded immediately. That answer surprised no one.

"But," he continued, "there is something I would like to understand."

Ezekiel gestured for him to go on.

"If I wanted to train under a knight—formally, as one does—could I do so and later return here?"

A few elders exchanged glances.

Teclos pressed on.

"I want to see more of the world. Experience different styles of food. Different lands. But someday... I would return. Kolma is my home, after all."

He held their gaze openly.

"I do not wish to abandon it."

The room grew thoughtful.

Finally, Ezekiel answered.

"It is possible to hire a knight privately for instruction," he said. "Such arrangements can be negotiated—temporary and contract-based."

The long silver-haired elder added, "Though it would be expensive."

Ezekiel gave the faintest smile.

"However," he continued, "if you formally join a knightly order... that is another matter."

His expression turned more serious.

"Knight orders operate under oath and noble authority. Once sworn, your service belongs to the house or order you bind yourself to."

"Leaving," another elder said plainly, "is therefore rarely permitted—unless you are released."

"And releases," Ezekiel added, "are not usually granted unless the house falls or you break the code and are either executed or exiled."

Teclos nodded slowly and absorbed the information.

"There is also Ulmak," Teclos said. "I heard he was once in a knight order."

A few brows lifted.

"Yes," Ezekiel confirmed. "That is true."

"He served under a minor noble house several years ago."

"What happened?" Teclos asked.

The elders exchanged another look.

"The house fell," Ezekiel answered simply. "Political miscalculation. Debt. Land disputes. Who is to say? All I know is that they were mostly stripped of their belongings."

"With their fall," another elder explained, "their retainers were dismissed. Contracts dissolved. Ulmak returned here afterward."

"So it is possible," Teclos said quietly.

"It is possible," Ezekiel agreed. "But not something to rely upon."

The implication was clear.

Ulmak had not left by choice.

He had been released because the house collapsed.

Ezekiel leaned forward slightly.

"If your desire is to experience broader horizons without permanently binding yourself, we would advise caution regarding formal knightly oaths."

He studied Teclos.

"There are other ways to see the world anyway," a long-haired elder said.

"Mercenaries," another elder suggested. "They travel between different territories, doing bounties or protecting caravans."

"Temporary assignments in neighboring regions are an option too," Ezekiel continued. "Guild exchanges, if you will."

Silence settled again—Teclos considered everything carefully.

A hunter.

A mercenary.

Enroll into the academy.

A knight.

An adventurer.

He had many options. For now, he would stay a hunter, but later? A mercenary sounded good, perhaps...

"Thank you," he said sincerely, bowing his head once more.

When the counseling finally concluded, Teclos stepped out of the guild hall into the afternoon light.

His parents were waiting near the entrance, along with Father Pella. Saldia stood with her hands folded in front of her; with bright eyes, she saw him the moment he emerged. Talmir leaned against the stone wall with a forced casualness that fooled no one.

Father Pella shook his head at Talmir, then smiled leisurely at Teclos. His robes were immaculate despite the long day.

They were all curious.

"Well?" Saldia asked immediately, stepping forward.

Teclos allowed himself a small smile. "It went well."

Talmir pushed off the wall. "Of course it did."

Teclos briefly recounted the discussion—the praise for his written and physical tests, the emphasis on his circles, the mention of the Academy, leadership roles, traveling, and so on.

"And what’s your plan?" Talmir asked, more serious now.

Teclos nodded. "For now, I will stay in the town and aim to be a hunter. Later on, I might try to be a mercenary, and I am not sure about being a knight—the oath would limit me heavily."

Father Pella stroked his beard thoughtfully. "That is the nature of oaths."

Saldia reached up and cupped Teclos’s cheek for a brief moment. She kissed him on the forehead and said, "You handled yourself well."

"I asked questions and didn’t just nod along," he replied. "So yes, I think so too."

Father Pella’s eyes sparkled with... greed? Teclos blinked in confusion. ’Huh?’

Talmir gave a firm nod. "That’s my boy."

Teclos smiled, pleased by the praise.

After that, Saldia’s expression softened visibly. Talmir’s shoulders relaxed, just slightly.

"We never wished to chain you here," Saldia said quietly. "But... knowing you wish to stay of your own will—"

"It means a lot to us," Talmir finished.

"It’s my home," Teclos said simply.

Father Pella studied him for a long moment, then said casually, "You know, boy, if—and I mean if—the mercenary or knight route proves too complicated for you... there is always the Dawn Order and the paladins."

Teclos blinked. ’Oh, so I didn’t see wrong.’

"The paladins?" he asked knowingly.

Pella inclined his head. "Their martial discipline is formidable. Their training rivals knight orders—surpasses them, even."

Teclos hesitated only a second before voicing what had already formed in his mind.

"With my affinity?"

Silence.

"Darkness," he said plainly. "Undead share it. The Church doesn’t exactly... favor that."

Father Pella did not immediately respond. He just nodded.

"In truth," he admitted, "you are correct. The current Dawn Church is not what it once was."

His voice lowered slightly.

"There is corruption within its ranks. Politics running rampant. Image more important than honor or duty."

Talmir crossed his arms. "Meaning they’d look at him sideways."

"Some would," Pella admitted. "Others would see potential. But prejudice exists everywhere," he added.

Teclos shook his head lightly. "I can’t trust them... sorry, Father Pella."

A faint chuckle escaped Talmir, amused by the old man being rejected.

"Good instincts."

Pella offered a rueful smile. "Wisdom sometimes lies in knowing where not to go."

The conversation ended there.

One by one, the remaining youths exited the guild hall after their counseling sessions. Faces ranged from excited to overwhelmed to uncertain.

When the final door closed, Brahm stepped forward once more and called the youths toward the platform erected in the town square.

The murmuring crowd quieted down.

Elira stood beside him, holding a neat stack of parchment sheets bound with a ribbon and sealed with wax bearing the guild crest.

Brahm commanded attention as he spoke.

"You have all completed your coming-of-age evaluations," he announced. "We will now begin the formal recognition."

Each youth would be called forward and presented with a parchment—an official record of their achievements, proof of their identity, and a declaration of their passage into adulthood.

His gaze swept across the assembled youths, and one by one, he began calling their names.

Each youth climbed the platform, received a firm handshake, and was handed their official certification.

Families applauded. Some shouted. Some wept openly.

When Gillard’s name was called, his father’s booming laugh echoed across the square as the burly man clapped hard enough to startle those nearby.

When Ralph stepped forward, his family whistled loudly, embarrassing him to no end.

Lastly—

"Teclos."

He ascended the platform without hesitation.

The applause began almost immediately—louder than before, swelling outward like a ripple across water. He saw Saldia wiping at her eyes. Talmir stood tall, clapping loudly and proudly. Father Pella offered a subtle nod of acknowledgment.

Brahm extended his hand.

Their handshake was solid—congratulatory.

"Well done," Brahm said quietly enough that only Teclos could hear.

Teclos met his gaze. "Thank you."

Elira stepped forward and handed him the parchment.

The seal was warm from the sun. The wax bore Kolma’s crest clearly stamped.

As he held it, a strange feeling washed over him.

Nostalgia.

It felt absurdly similar to finishing school in another life—receiving a diploma, a marker that one Chapter had ended and another had begun.

The applause continued for a few more seconds before slowly fading as he stepped down from the platform.

Saldia embraced him immediately,

while Talmir gripped his shoulder firmly.

"You’re an adult now," his father said.