At the colossal gates of Iadica, the air shimmered faintly with magic, each ripple of energy whispering the city’s power. The walls, hundreds of meters tall, were forged from mystic steel. Every inch of it radiated strength and danger, a silent warning to those who would dare to enter uninvited.
From the side, a uniformed man approached, his delicate features sharply contrasted by the deep, commanding tone of his voice. He placed a firm hand on Hyperion’s shoulder. “Who the hell are you, boy?” the man demanded. Ida froze. She had seen that look in Hyperion before, the tightening of his jaw, the subtle shift in his eyes. Of all the words in the world, only one could make him truly angry. 'Boy'. To her surprise, Hyperion’s expression softened almost instantly. His lips curved into a calm, polite smile. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said smoothly. “My name is Hyperion. I’m visiting from the States. This wall, it’s just such a wonder. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.” The officer raised a brow, his suspicion waning just slightly. “Still, I’ll need to check you and your companion,” he said, his tone even now. “Please, help yourself,” Hyperion replied, handing over his pack without hesitation. “Also, you wouldn’t happen to know where two mages could go to take the Huntsman Exam, would you?” The officer studied him for a moment, then nodded toward the city skyline. “Head into town. The Huntsman Branch is the one with the tall mast. You can see it from almost anywhere in Iadica.” *** After running a baton-like device over their belongings, the man handed the bags back. “You’re free to enter.” “Thank you,” Hyperion said cheerfully, adjusting his pack as he and Ida passed through the towering gate. Ida looked at him in disbelief. “Wow. I’ve never seen you stay calm when someone calls you the ‘b word,’” she said, still stunned. Hyperion chuckled quietly. “Wouldn’t want to start this adventure with trouble, would we? Besides, there were several factors to consider.” His tone grew analytical, eyes narrowing slightly. “You probably noticed his influence on the surrounding magical energy. He was strong. Fighting him wouldn’t be difficult at all, but it would be… inconvenient. We’re in public, and he only spoke that way to assert dominance. Once he realized I wouldn't contest, his tone softened. Not that you noticed.” *** The city beyond the gates was breathtaking, a metallic paradise of towering structures that glistened like silver under the sun. The air carried the faint hum of the magic that reinforced the infrastructure, resonating through the streets. The architecture was immaculate: no shabby bungalows, no scattered huts. Every building was a masterpiece of symmetry and enchantment, their surfaces polished to reflect the light of day. Even the people looked luxurious; Fine robes, and glittering jewelry adorned nearly everyone. It felt like walking through a city of nobles. Ida’s eyes darted from one extravagant passerby to another. “Stop ogling,” Hyperion said dryly, pulling her by the hand. “We have work to do.” They made their way through the bustling streets until they reached a massive structure unlike any other; the Huntsmen Headquarters. It rose to more than half the height of the city wall, crowned by a colossal communication mast that pierced the clouds. Its design was stark and utilitarian; grey stone and glass, standing with a military sort of beauty that contrasted the silvery and luxurious elegance around it. Inside, the headquarters was calm, almost eerily so. Hyperion gestured toward one of the receptionists that were busy working behind their desks. “Let’s go.” The receptionist barely looked up. “Good day...,“ “Huntsman exam?” he interrupted before Hyperion could finish. He pulled out a sheet of paper. “Take this. Fill it out now or later. Your choice.” “Are there no qualifications required?” Hyperion asked. The man glanced at him briefly. “Strength is the only qualification. You wouldn’t have passed through the door if you weren’t strong enough. That door’s enchanted.” He pointed toward a distant set of elevators. “Odd floors are for scavenger exams, even floors for regular Huntsmen. Fill out your form, hand it back, and you’re set.” They completed the forms immediately and returned them to the desk. The receptionist nodded curtly. “Pass the exams and you’ll be issued a seal. Bring it back here for verification.” Ida looked up at Hyperion. “So, what will you be, scavenger or huntsman?” He shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter. Though I still don’t get the point of the distinction.” “Not everyone’s an all-rounder like you,” she said. “Scavengers rely on their range arts, they can’t fight up close. Huntsmen specialize in physical augmentation and direct magical combat.” “I know the distinction,” Hyperion said, half-smiling. “I just don’t think it applies to me. I could easily do both.” “Cocky as ever,” she muttered. *** The pair ascended to the sixth floor, since the second and fourth were locked. The moment they arrived, the doors sealed behind them. Hyperion glanced at the barrier. “Seems there’s a quota for each floor.” Before them stood lines of applicants. Hundreds, maybe a thousand, arranged with military precision. At the front stood a man of refined features, his posture impeccable and a feminine face, dressed in a black uniform streaked with gold patterns. His voice, when he spoke, was clear and commanding. “Good day, applicants. My name is Wyatt Lawrence, one of the many Captains of the Huntsman Organization,” he announced. “The examination you stand for today shall begin, and end, today.” A hush fell over the hall. “The test will proceed in three phases,” he continued. “The first: a written exam. Inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, but necessary to measure your intelligence and education. It will include mathematics, magical theory, science, and current affairs.” Murmurs spread through the room. “The second phase,” Wyatt said, “is the augmentation exam, testing your control over strengthening, enhancing, and healing through magic. And finally, the third and most important phase, combat.” His gaze swept the crowd. “You will each face a fourth-grade chimera for about an hour. When that time ends, the weak participants and the beasts will be removed. Those who remain will face a third-grade chimera for another hour. Your cumulative score across all phases will determine your rank within the Huntsman Organization.” Laughter broke out among the crowd. ...Come all this way just to quit halfway.“ ...What kind of cowardice would that be.“ ...Can never be me!” voices jeered from within the crowd Wyatt raised a single hand, and the noise ceased instantly. “No violence toward other humans will be tolerated,” he said sharply. Any offender who harms another applicant will be detained indefinitely. “You will be given protective gear during the combat examination, to help reduce risk of lethal injury.” A ripple of unease passed through the crowd. “After the examinations, ranks will be assigned based on your abilities,” Wyatt went on. “Grade Five to Grade Two, determined mostly by your performance against the chimeras. Grade One, however, is reserved for those whose results are exceptional across all phases. Grade Ones are also eligible to contest for official positions within the organization, starting from receptionist.” Gasps filled the hall as the realization sank in, the receptionists who had handed them their forms were themselves high-ranking Huntsmen. Wyatt concluded firmly, “You may rise through ranks through merit, and you may lose them through stagnation. Payment is based on rank, with bonuses for missions, chimera hunts and or criminal captures. Good luck to you all.” The room erupted into whispers once more. *** As the crowd began to disperse toward the testing chambers, Ida looked up at Hyperion. “That was… a lot of information.” “Sure was,” he replied flatly. “So, what’s the plan? Are we going all out, or keeping a low profile?” Hyperion’s expression remained unreadable. “You might be underestimating the difficulty of this examination to suggest we hold back. Still, do what you want. The bare minimum I expect is that you pass.” Ida sighed. “So inspiring.” “Come on,” he said, walking ahead. “The written exam’s about to start.” *** The written exam turned out to be unexpectedly challenging; dense with theory, complex logic puzzles, and formulas. Yet for someone like Hyperion, with a mind sharpened by relentless study, it was little more than a lengthy exercise in patience. The second phase, however, was far harsher. It tested endurance in ways that bordered on cruelty. Candidates were placed in magically simulated environments of extreme heat, freezing cold, and crushing atmospheric pressure. The task; survive and maintain composure by manipulating their physical density, and composing barriers of magical energy, shielding themselves from harm through precision magic. Within minutes, the hall filled with screams and gasps. Some collapsed, others forfeited, their energy drained. The number of applicants dwindled rapidly, from a thousand to barely six hundred. Then came the second segment of the same round; perceptive augmentation. Participants were asked to sense objects and energies far beyond normal human perception. To see magic itself. Though no one quit this time, many failed silently, their frustration etched on their faces. By the time the sun began to sink beyond Iadica’s shimmering skyline, eight hours had passed since the trials began. The final phase, the combat examination was all that remained. And as the arena gates began to open, the world itself seemed to hold its breath.Latest Chapter
Draft
Emotional exhaustion from his meeting with the Wilkinsons had Hyperion drifting straight into bed the moment he returned to his dorm. He didn’t bother to change or even pull the curtains; he simply let gravity take him. Sleep claiming him almost instantly.He woke two hours later to the bell ringing in unbroken intervals. Hyperion blinked slowly, disoriented, turning his head toward his roommate. Malachi stood at the table, fastening the last button on his uniform jacket.“Can I ask…?” Hyperion muttered, still half-asleep.“There’s an assembly concerning the upcoming Ludus Gentium,” Malachi replied, knotting his tie. “The principal will be there. You might want to hurry, it starts in forty minutes.”That roused him. Hyperion sat up, shook the heaviness out of his limbs, and dressed quickly. His brain was sluggish and dry, still rattled from the conversation with the Wilkinsons.He headed toward a hall he’d never visited since his enrollment. A vast, circular hall made of whitesone. Th
The table
It was morning at Zenith Academy and it carried a quiet gloom, but with a heavier gloom than usual. Hyperion walked through the corridor with a calm stride, though the events of the previous night still pressed at the back of his mind. The memory-wipe spell around Daigan, the holes riddled in his brain, and the array of possibilities, each detail clung stubbornly, refusing to loosen its grip. He was halfway toward the central assembly hall when someone called out to him. “Mr. Hyperion.” Hyperion turned. It was a stern, stiff-backed woman, with black hair and strands of green and grey in it, wearing a navy green jumpsuit and a cape of waist length. “The principal would like a word,” she said. “Immediately.” Hyperion nodded once, offering no visible reaction, though a faint tremor of expectation rose in him. Being summoned by the principal was rare in the school as he was seldom associated with students directly. The walk to the principal’s office took only a few minutes, as
Forgotten by morning
What could possibly be serious enough to make Malachi come seeking him? Hyperion wondered as he followed the boy through the hallway. The academy always felt colder at evenings, the lamps flickering as though nervous. Malachi walked with his usual quietness, back straight, steps measured, eyes forward. But there was tension in his shoulders, something brittle and tightly wound.They reached their dorm room. Malachi slipped inside first and Hyperion locked the door. He watched him for a moment before speaking.“Well then,” Hyperion said lightly, “what, pray tell, is the problem?”“I found a corpse,” Malachi replied bluntly.The words dropped like lead. Hyperion blinked once. Twice. He had expected trouble, but this…“A corpse,” Hyperion repeated slowly. “Where?”“In one of the classes,” Malachi said. “I saw it when I was passing by. I inferred it may be connected to your… reason for being here. So I assumed it was best to alert you first.”Hyperion’s expression tightened, perplexed, fo
Ida Vs Gallagher
“Hah,” Gallagher roared. “You really think I’d stoop to holding the hands of green ears, and a woman at that?”“You’re not holding my hand,” Ida replied coolly. “It’s just a friendly spar. No need to be a misogynistic ass about it.”“You bi...”“Language! Both of you,” Mr. Thomeaux barked. “And you, Gallagher, it’s tradition. Anyone who applies has the right to pick who he or she spars against. So pick a weapon and get to the floor.”“See you on the dance floor,” Ida jeered as she walked past him.After a set of routine stretches, the two of them stood face to face. The cold wind brushed against Ida’s skin, carrying with it the briefest moment of quiet. Mr. Thomeaux shattered it.“Basic use of magical augmentation. No use of spells or magic power. Winner is the first person to force surrender or land a clean shot. And, begin!”***Ida had to admit. Gallagher was good with his sword. His opening slash came from above, sharp and forceful. She blocked by wrapping her arms in the chain, t
Practice and provocation
When the match ended, Victor Moses blew his whistle one final time.“Okay, that’s it for today’s P.E. lesson. Great game, everyone. Now wash up and get to your next class. Seriously, great game out there. You have a lot of promise,” he said, directing the last line toward Hyperion as he approached.Hyperion acknowledged the praise with a simple nod before heading toward the locker room.A loud thud cracked through the corridor behind him. One of Gallagher’s teammates collapsed to the tiled floor, clutching his jaw after receiving a punch.“Your sheepishly slow movements cost us the game, Tyrese,” Gallagher snarled, his voice low and venomous. “Because of you, I’ll never hear the end of this.”“Stop it, you babe,” Hamilton said sharply from across the room. “Perhaps we played different matches, because I don’t remember it being only Tyrese’s fault that you lost.”Gallagher scoffed. “You’re right.”He turned and walked straight toward Hyperion.“It’s more yours,” he hissed. “In all my y
Ascent of ten balls
After leaving Aurora’s office, Hyperion made his way to the venue of the next lesson. The field stretched wide before him, carpeted in low, neatly trimmed orange grass. Scattered across its expanse stood tall, pole-like platforms of varying heights and widths, each one sleek and black, their arrangement like a forest of metal trees. Around the edges of the field, the borders were marked by artificial grass dyed a deep, obsidian shade. The students gathered at the sidelines, murmuring among themselves, when a tall man in a tracksuit approached from the field. He stood nearly two meters in height, with a sharp buzz cut, a trimmed goatee, and the solid frame of someone who lived and breathed physical training. “Well, students,” he began in a voice that carried across the grounds, “I’m your P.E. teacher, Mr. Victor Moses. In standard fifth-year fashion, you shall be welcomed to physical education class with a round of Decibola Ascensio.” A collective murmur spread through the group —
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