A heavy iron lock clanged shut on the outside of the admissions register desk, signaling the formal conclusion of the physical trials.
Across the open courtyard, the sun began its descent toward the western ridges, casting long, bruised shadows over the hundreds of failed applicants trudging toward the mountain gates. Caleb Conway stood near the stone boundary of the dueling terrace, his gray tunic uncreased, his breathing steady, and his hands resting loosely at his sides. Behind him, two junior disciples hauled the unconscious, broken form of Vane toward the medical pavilions on a canvas stretcher, the senior disciple’s shattered ribs still leaking faint trails of dark blood onto the flags.
Every single physical metric of the entrance exam had been cleared with undeniable ease. Accordi
