The ceiling of the Grand Hall soared into a vaulted dome of obsidian glass, a simulated night sky where countless stars glittered. From that impossible height, banners the size of sailing ships hung down the walls, their guild crests seeming to float in the stellar abyss.

The 120 of us filed in, our footsteps unnaturally muted in the vast space. The nervous chatter from the lounge had died, replaced by reverent silence. Even Raphael, who seemed constitutionally incapable of shutting up, had gone quiet.

At the far end of the hall stood a raised dais. A long table of dark, polished wood dominated the platform, behind which sat six high-backed chairs that looked more like thrones than furniture for educators.

Five were occupied by what I assumed were the Guild Masters. The central seat—the largest and most ornate—held a man who could only be the Headmaster.

They sat silhouetted against a massive window that stretched from floor to ceiling, framing the storm-tossed ocean beyond the academy's walls.

I felt Soomin trembling slightly beside me, her small frame nearly vibrating with anxiety. On my other side, Skylar looked utterly bored, examining her black nails.

The central figure rose from his throne. He was a mountain of a man who looked like he'd been in his fair share of battles. Long gray hair fell past his shoulders in a wild mane, complemented by a thick beard and mustache. A scar bisected his right eye.

This had to be Headmaster Jason Luna, the legendary S-Rank Hunter who helped found the academy.

"Congratulations on surviving the culling." His voice was a low, gravelly rumble that filled the hall without apparent effort. "You are the one percent. The rest are on a ferry home, their dreams turning to sea foam behind them."

He paused, dark eyes sweeping the crowd. "Do not feel pity for them. They were not worthy."

Brutal. I like him already.

"Look at the people on this stage. They are the masters of this forge. They will take you, the raw iron of your potential, and hammer you into weapons. Some of you will shatter under the strain."

With that cheerful note, he sat back down. "The choice of which forge you enter begins now. Listen to the Guild Masters."

A woman rose from her seat at the far right. She was tall and statuesque, with silver-blonde hair cut in a bob that framed a face of aristocratic perfection. Her eyes were chips of blue ice, and she held a riding crop in one hand, tapping it rhythmically against her palm. Her uniform was immaculate white and silver, with not a thread out of place.

"I am Professor Petrova," she announced, her voice carrying a faint accent I couldn't quite place. "The Argent Sentinels seek perfection. A messy victory is a failure. We are artists of combat, and our blades are clean." Her cold gaze swept over us. "If you are a prodigy, if you are flawless, we may have a place for you."

She sat, and immediately to her left, a massive old man bounded to his feet with surprising agility.

He was built like a tank, with wild white hair and a face creased with laugh lines. He grinned broadly, revealing teeth too perfect for a man who had clearly seen many battles.

"I'm Takamura!" he boomed, his voice echoing throughout the hall. "The Scarlet Phantoms believe in one thing: overwhelming power!"

He punched his fist into his palm with a sound like a thunderclap. "Strategy is what you use when you're not strong enough to punch through the problem! If you've got fire in your gut and fists that can shatter steel, you belong with me!"

His enthusiasm was infectious; several prospects around me straightened their spines. Raphael, in particular, seemed entranced.

Next rose perhaps the most unusual figure at the table. He was tall and slender, with androgynous beauty and platinum-blonde hair that fell in a long braid over one shoulder.

His uniform included flowing elements that reminded me of a magician's coat, and his eyes held a predatory intelligence that was at odds with his soft smile.

"Professor Valentine." His voice was hypnotic, almost musical. "The Cobalt Vipers believe any fight is won or lost before a punch is ever thrown. We are not interested in your strength, but your mind." He ran a long-fingered hand through his hair. "Cunning, strategy, intellect... these are the true weapons."

Next came a woman who somehow managed to look both professionally attired and like she'd just rolled out of bed after a wild night. She had long black hair, striking purple eyes, and a figure that made several male prospects around me swallow audibly.

"Professor Mori," she said with a slight yawn. "The Verdant Strikers are about teamwork. We don't care if you're the sharpest spear if you leave your allies' backs exposed." She stretched, an action that drew several more stares.

Finally, at the far left of the table, the man I met at the gala. He had the shadow of a beard, tired eyes, and a synth-cigarette dangling from his lips. He didn't stand, just raised two fingers in a half-hearted salute.

"Braxton Miller. Onyx Hounds." He took a long drag from his cigarette. He exhaled a plume of blue-gray smoke. "The draft is a drag, hurry up."

A golden notification suddenly flashed across my vision, the border shimmering in a way I'd never seen before. My heart skipped a beat when I realized it was from Nel, but marked as a priority I'd never encountered.

[UNIQUE NARRATIVE QUEST ISSUED: THE STRAY DOG'S KENNEL]

[Description: As the top-ranked prospect, your choice of guild will create a significant narrative ripple. The Audience is watching. The Sponsor is intrigued. Choose your path wisely. Your decision will define the opening act of your legend at NVA.]

The quest presented five options, one for each guild. But strangely, the rewards were hidden.

[Path of Perfection (Argent Sentinels):] Join the elite. Your reward will be... [REWARD OBSCURED BY SPONSOR'S WHIM].

[Path of Power (Scarlet Phantoms):] Join the berserkers. Your reward will be... [REWARD OBSCURED BY SPONSOR'S WHIM].

[Path of Plots (Cobalt Vipers):] Join the schemers. Your reward will be... [REWARD OBSCURED BY SPONSOR'S WHIM].

[Path of Unity (Verdant Strikers):] Join the soldiers. Your reward will be... [REWARD OBSCURED BY SPONSOR'S WHIM].

[Path of the Discarded (Onyx Hounds):] Join the rejects. Your reward will be... [REWARD OBSCURED BY SPONSOR'S WHIM].

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