(A/N Big thanks to everyone for the Power stones and Golden tickets, they mean a lot. As usual, please don't hesitate to comment or drop a review. ENJOY)

Power stones people, Gimme it.

"1400 words. You gotta drop that ticket."

---------------------------------

Warmth. That was the first thing Orion felt.

It pressed against his skin in soft waves, carrying the hum of mana through the air. His eyes fluttered open to find himself seated in a vast, circular hall. Rows upon rows of acolytes stretched around him, thousands of seats arranged in rising tiers.

He exhaled slowly, realizing he could breathe again without pain. His ribs no longer ached. His shoulder felt whole. Every wound he had sustained during the trial was gone. His mana pathways thrummed, completely replenished, though his body still carried that faint, bone-deep fatigue that healing couldn't wash away.

They'd been restored — but not refreshed.

He glanced around. The others were beginning to stir too. Some blinked in confusion, others stretched, disoriented but alive.

"Where are we?" someone whispered.

The whispers multiplied. The atmosphere was strange — a mixture of disbelief, exhaustion, and lingering adrenaline. The sound of thousands breathing the same air created a subtle hum, soft but tangible.

Orion leaned back slightly in his seat. "Guess it's over," he murmured under his breath.

A boy sitting next to him turned, dark hair disheveled, voice hushed with nerves. "You think we'll pass?"

"Some of us will," Orion said with a half-smile. "not all of us though."

That earned a quiet chuckle. The humor was thin, fragile, but it spread — tension giving way to tentative laughter among those nearby. For the first time since the trial began, the room didn't feel like a battlefield.

All around, snippets of conversation drifted through the air.

"I thought I was finished when the compression started…"

"My sigil cracked — I have no idea how I'm still here."

"I swear I saw a demon-type illusion near the end. Was that part of the test?"

Orion listened without interrupting, resting his chin on his palm. The relief in their voices was almost palpable. He couldn't blame them — that trial had felt endless.

Minutes passed. The murmurs swelled, then quieted again as the runes around the hall flickered to life.

A single pulse of mana rolled through the floor — deep, resonant.

Then, space folded.

Doran Chronos appeared at the center stage.

He didn't descend in grandeur or sound. He simply was, one heartbeat absent, the next there, the fold of his coat barely disturbed by the transition. His gaze swept over the seated crowd — sharp, steady, and far too knowing.

"You've done well."

The room stilled instantly.

"You have all shown what it means to stand before adversity," he continued, his tone smooth, echoing faintly off the stone. "Discipline, courage, adaptability — and in many cases, reckless ambition." His lips curved slightly, almost amused. "Still, that too has its place."

He clasped his hands behind his back. "At the beginning of this trial, there were nine thousand, nine hundred and twenty-three of you."

The number flickered above him in gold.

"Now," Doran said, his voice quiet but firm, "five thousand, seven hundred and sixty-five remain."

A low ripple ran through the hall. Relief. Shock. Murmured prayers. Quiet gasps.

He gave them a moment to process it before continuing.

"That means four thousand, one hundred and fifty-eight have been eliminated."

The gold light dimmed slightly.

"To those who fought well," Doran said softly, "know that your effort was seen."

He raised a hand. Mana surged from the stage like a ripple of sunlight.

All at once, several thousand figures across the tiers shimmered, their forms dissolving into motes of pale silver light. The seats they had occupied fell empty, leaving gaps across the curved rows like scattered constellations missing stars.

Orion inhaled quietly. Even after all the fighting, the sight of so many disappearing still felt surreal.

When silence returned, Doran spoke again.

"To the five thousand, seven hundred and sixty-five who remain — congratulations. You have endured the first elimination."

This time, the wave of sound that followed wasn't subdued. A roar of claps and laughter broke out, raw and unrestrained. For a brief moment, they were just students again — alive, together, victorious.

Doran waited patiently until the noise subsided. Then his voice came once more, measured and composed.

"However," he said, "your path continues to narrow."

A vast golden screen unfurled behind him, bright enough to cast rippling light across the entire hall. Thousands of names scrolled rapidly until they stopped on a red line glowing midway down the list.

"Only five thousand will move forward to the Academy's Primary Program."

The cheers died at once.

The air grew heavier — tension threading through every breath.

Doran gestured. The section of names below the red line shimmered softly. "To those who reached the end but fell short," he said, "take pride. You endured to the very last. You will receive a commemorative training package, resource access, and monetary support for your efforts. Return next year stronger."

A soft light spread over the seven hundred and sixty-five marked names. They vanished silently.

Orion exhaled through his nose, watching as the field of participants thinned yet again. Fewer faces surrounded him now — most unfamiliar, some familiar from the forest.

Doran let the silence linger for a moment, then continued.

"To those who remain — the final five thousand — congratulations. You have crossed the threshold."

With a flick of his wrist, the board behind him transformed. The screen divided into glittering panels, displaying rankings from tenth place down to five-thousandth. Names, scores, and house insignias shimmered across the expanse like constellations.

Gasps erupted from the crowd.

"I made top thousand!" someone shouted.

"No way—five hundred!" another laughed, nearly in tears.

"Seven hundred off, I'll take it!"

The noise swelled — cheers, cries, sighs of relief. The hall was alive with emotion, each student caught between disbelief and pride.

Orion allowed himself a faint smile. For all their differences, everyone here had earned their survival.

Doran raised a hand, and silence fell again.

"Now," he said, his tone brightening slightly, "for the ten who distinguished themselves above all."

A golden parchment unfurled beside him, names already written upon its surface.

" In tenth place," Doran began, "Daenys Chronos. Six hundred points."

A shimmer of light, and Daenys appeared beside him on the stage. Though her whole demeanor was downtrodden, the applause that followed was warm and genuine.

Doran handed her a silver token.

"Ninth—Arlen Chronos."

"Eighth—Yurei Chronos."

The two appeared in sequence, bowing slightly as they received engraved silver tokens.

"Seventh place — Selene Chronos, eight hundred and seven points."

Her composure drew quiet admiration.

"Sixth — Kaelen Chronos, nine hundred and fifty-eight."

"Fifth — Caelum Chronos, nine hundred and sixty."

"Fourth — Thaddeus Chronos, one thousand and fifty."

Applause rippled like waves through the air.

"Third — Seris Chronos. One thousand and eighty-nine points."

Seris appeared on stage with a wide smile on her face.

The audience reacted audibly this time — she had been a name whispered about long before the trial began.

"Second," Doran said, his gaze steady, "Erevan Chronos. One thousand three hundred points."

The hall fell quiet at the name. Erevan appeared, serene and unshaken, though his eyes showed faint tiredness, light glinting off his uniform as he accepted the platinum token.

Finally, Doran turned toward the crowd.

"And first…" His eyes flicked toward Orion's section, faint amusement in their depth. "Orion Chronos. One thousand seven hundred and ten points."

The air froze for half a breath — then detonated into sound.

Cheers, astonishment, disbelief — waves of applause thundered through the hall.

Light enveloped Orion, carrying him forward. He materialized on the stage beside the others, boots landing softly against the marble. The sound was overwhelming, but his expression stayed calm — though somewhere behind his eyes, pride glimmered quietly.

Doran handed him a golden token the size of his palm. "You've done well," he said softly. "You remind us what potential looks like."

Orion inclined his head respectfully.

When the applause finally dimmed, Doran turned back to the crowd.

"This is not the end," he said. "Your ranks will shape your path here — your privileges, your classes, your future standings. But those details will be revealed at orientation tomorrow."

He spread his arms, mana flowing from him like a gentle wind. "For now — rest. Reflect. You have earned your place among the five thousand."

The runes along the hall brightened, casting warm gold light over the remaining students.

Orion looked down at the coin in his hand — gleaming, solid, warm from the mana it carried. A single engraved numeral shone faintly at its center: 1.

He smiled.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.