The Weakest Commoner Controls All Elements

Trial Begins

Rylen gripped the leather hilt of his sword with both hands and planted his boots against the cobblestones. He strained backward with his entire body weight, gritting his teeth in a desperate bid to free his blade. The polished steel did not budge an inch from Jamie's two fingers. Panic flared in the captain's eyes as his pristine armor rattled from the exertion.

Jamie uncurled his index finger and thumb.

The sudden release of tension caught Rylen off guard. He pitched backward, arms flailing wildly as gravity took hold. He crashed onto his back with a loud clatter of silver armor against the stone pavement. A cloud of dust puffed into the air around his boots.

The surrounding nobles and city watchmen went completely silent. They stared at the fallen captain and then looked at the young man in plain clothes standing calmly over him. No one dared to whisper a word or point a finger. They had all witnessed the impossible display of strength, yet they chose collective ignorance over risking the wrath of their humiliated commander.

"I will take your head!" Rylen screamed.

He scrambled to his feet, his face red and his chest heaving with exertion. He raised the steel blade above his shoulder and prepared to swing again, abandoning any pretense of a structured duel.

"Stop this nonsense," a commanding voice echoed across the courtyard.

A man draped in the black robes of the Church Mage Order stepped through the parted crowd. He carried a wooden staff tipped with a pulsing blue crystal. The nobles bowed their heads slightly in deference as the mage walked directly toward the registration table. He stopped and tapped the base of his staff against the stone.

The mage surveyed the scene before resting his gaze on the enraged captain. "Sheathe the weapon, Rylen. This is a holy recruitment ground. You are acting like a drunkard in a tavern."

Rylen lowered his sword but kept his grip tight. "This peasant assaulted me, Mage Oswin. He owes debts to merchants and he tried to disrupt the registration. He does not belong here."

"I saw what happened from the citadel steps," Oswin said calmly. He turned his attention to Jamie, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to read the young man's lack of magical aura. "I saw him catch your blade."

The courtyard remained silent. Edric, the merchant, tried to shrink back into the crowd of onlookers, terrified of drawing any attention to his own bruised throat.

"He is a criminal," Rylen argued. He pointed his blade at Jamie. "He has no achievements to his name. The Holy Knights require men of honor and proven skill."

"And I would argue that exchanging blows with the captain of the city watch is a significant display of skill," Oswin countered. He walked over to the wooden table and picked up the massive leather ledger. "Especially considering you supposedly slaughtered a demon just yesterday. If he can match your strength, he is fit to be tested."

"You cannot be serious," Rylen protested. "He is a commoner."

"The Church requires soldiers, not pedigrees," Oswin said. He ran a finger down the list of names in the ledger. "We needed five valid candidates to begin the Holy Knight Trial today. Until a moment ago, we only had three nobles registered. You and this young man bring the number to exactly five."

Oswin closed the ledger with a loud thud that echoed in the quiet courtyard. He turned his back on the registration table and pointed his staff toward the massive iron doors of the inner citadel.

"The quota is met," Oswin announced. "The trial will start immediately. All five candidates follow me."

The mage did not wait for a response. He began walking toward the looming iron doors, his black robes sweeping across the stone floor. The three nobles who had registered earlier hurried to fall into step behind him, eager to prove their worth.

Rylen shoved his sword into its scabbard with an angry snap of metal. He glared at the surrounding soldiers, daring them to say a word about his fall, before turning his attention back to Jamie.

The captain marched toward the citadel doors but slowed his pace to walk shoulder to shoulder with Jamie. The smug arrogance slowly returned to Rylen's face as he prepared to enter the domain of the Church.

"You think you have won something today," Rylen sneered, keeping his voice low enough that the mage ahead would not hear. "But you just signed your own death warrant."

"I am just here to take a test," Jamie said. He kept his hands in his pockets and matched the captain's pace.

"The knight trials are not meant for people like you," Rylen warned. "They are designed exclusively for those with noble bloodlines. The traps inside run on ancient runic magic. Only those with an inherent magical core possess the power to endure the pressure and survive the challenges."

They reached the shadow of the massive iron doors. The air grew cold, carrying the faint scent of ozone and burning copper from the magic sealed inside the citadel.

"The magic in those halls will tear a commoner apart before you even draw a weapon," Rylen stated. He flashed a cruel smile. "You will not last five minutes."

Jamie stopped walking. He looked at the heavy iron doors and felt the chaotic, unrefined energy humming behind the metal. It was a weak, poorly structured array, but he kept that observation to himself. He turned his head and looked directly into the captain's eyes.

"We shall see," Jamie said.