The sun hung low on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of amber and crimson as Cyrus and Neno made their way to the school canteen. Their footsteps echoed hollowly through the empty corridors, a rhythmic counterpoint to the weight of unspoken concerns that hung between them. Leora's absence was a palpable void, her earlier cough and the alarming sight of blood still etched vividly in Cyrus's mind.
Neno's voice, tinged with a nervous energy, cut through the oppressive silence. "The exam," he began, words tumbling out in a rush, "um... consists of three parts." He glanced at Cyrus, seeking reassurance that he was listening. "The physical assessment, the mental assessment, and the magical assessment. Each one has a number of points, and as long as a candidate receives enough from the three, they'll be accepted."
He paused, drawing a deep breath before continuing. "Uh... I did some research. It's-it's going to be complicated." His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "All these children... their parents will be sent to the mines and they'll end up in care centers if they can't enter the magical school. Do you understand, Cyrus? Cyrus!"
Jolted from his reverie, Cyrus nodded absently. "Yes, I understand," he mumbled, his thoughts still adrift in a sea of worry. "What's wrong with Leora today? We barely have two days."
Neno's brow furrowed in concern. "I saw something similar with the prophet once. Is it a common sickness among the bites?"
"I don't know," Neno replied, his eyes distant and clouded with memory. "The prophet is old, so it's normal for him to be sick. As for Leora..." He hesitated, weighing his words carefully. "Uh... I'm not sure. When she was younger, she was always sick and constantly needed attention. Don't worry about her, it will pass. Besides, you have more important things to focus on."
Cyrus slapped his cheeks, a sharp sting of pain cutting through the fog of his thoughts. "You're right," he conceded, though he found it nearly impossible to keep Leora out of his mind. Every moment, his thoughts drifted back to her, a confusing mix of frustration and wonder filling him. Despite her apparent indifference, he couldn't help but be drawn to her. "Have I fallen for her?" he wondered, quickly shaking his head to dispel the notion. "No way."
As they entered the canteen, they were enveloped by a cacophony of sounds and smells that assaulted their senses. The clatter of chopsticks against plates created a constant backdrop of noise, while the aroma of various dishes – some familiar, others exotic – hung heavy in the air. Children bustled about in organized chaos, their movements creating a frenetic dance of activity.
Cyrus made his way through the sea of desks, acutely aware of the curious gazes fixed upon him. Some eyes sparkled with intrigue, while others, surprisingly, held disdain. He blinked in disbelief. Were these really just children? In Arkania, it seemed, the harsh realities of life stripped away childish innocence with brutal efficiency, replacing it with an intense drive to succeed – all thanks to the most dreaded law: the Arkania for All Endeavor.
This law, applying to all regardless of background or circumstance, mandated that anyone without specialized education be sent to the mines. Age was no barrier; whether you were five or a hundred, the mines awaited. The only escape was through a magic license or a technology diploma. Cyrus, thanks to his parents' sacrifice, had secured the latter.
A magic license from a prestigious school like Eldor's offered an additional boon – exemption for the license holder's family from mine work. Instead, the bureau would care for them, freeing them from financial worry. The trade-off? The license holder would be at the bureau's beck and call, their life no longer entirely their own.
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Realizing the noise level hadn't abated, Cyrus raised his voice. "Excuse me," he called, but his words were lost in the din. Frustration mounting, he slammed his hand on a nearby table. "Will you all shut up?" The room fell silent, all eyes turning to him with a mixture of surprise and apprehension.
"We all know why we're here," Cyrus began, his voice steady and resolute.
A small voice piped up from the crowd, defiant despite its tremor. "No, you don't," a young boy challenged, his face set in a scowl that seemed too old for his years. "You have no idea what we have to lose," another added, the fear in his eyes belying his bravado.
Cyrus sighed, his shoulders sagging under the weight of memory. "I lost my mother because of this damn law," he confessed, his voice thick with emotion. "She did everything for me. The only reason I'm standing here today is because she was willing to sacrifice herself for my future. I know exactly what you all feel."
His gaze swept across the sea of young faces, each one a mirror of his own past fears and hopes. "Eldor Magic School is the last in City Zero still accepting candidates. This is your last chance to change your future. I'm not asking you to trust me, or even to trust in yourselves. But trust in those who sent you here – your fathers, mothers, sisters who entrusted everything to you. They didn't know anything about this exam, but they still believed you could give it a try. For their sake, I want you to believe you can make it through."
A hush fell over the room, broken only by the soft sounds of sniffling. Tears glistened on small cheeks as hope rekindled in their eyes. A little girl's voice broke the silence, trembling but determined. "We'll follow your instructions. Please help us succeed."
"Help us, big brother Cyrus," another voice called out, the title spreading like wildfire through the crowd.
"We're counting on you, big brother," echoed throughout the room, a chorus of hope and desperation.
As Cyrus and Neno left for their next destination – the physical assessment ground – Neno suddenly halted. "What if you have no one behind you to trust?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, laden with a pain that spoke of personal experience.
Cyrus paused, considering the question. It was one he had grappled with in his darkest moments. "Then lie to yourself that you do," he replied, his tone somber but resolute. He knew it sounded foolish, perhaps even desperate, but it was the strategy that had carried him through when all else seemed lost. Reality and illusion – sometimes the line between them blurred, and a powerful enough illusion could reshape reality itself.
The assessment ground came into view, a daunting array of obstacles designed to test every aspect of physical prowess. Towering walls of smooth stone stood alongside intricate rope courses that seemed to defy gravity. Pits of churning water and beds of glowing coals presented challenges of endurance and willpower. At the far end, a series of magical constructs shimmered, their purpose as yet unclear but undoubtedly demanding.
Cyrus took a deep breath, steeling himself for the challenge ahead. Leora and Neno stood by his side, silent pillars of support. Though Leora's face remained impassive, Cyrus could sense a flicker of concern in her eyes. Neno's nervous energy had transformed into a quiet determination, his earlier doubts pushed aside in the face of the task at hand.
The children, now clad in Eldor's training attire – flowing gowns of white-blue silk that seemed to shimmer with latent magical energy – gathered around. Their faces were a complex tapestry of emotions: determination warred with fear, hope battled against despair. Some stood tall, chins raised in defiance of their circumstances, while others huddled together, drawing strength from their shared predicament.
Cyrus's voice rang out, clear and strong, carrying across the field with an authority that belied his own inner turmoil. "Let the assessment begin," he declared, his words a catalyst that set the entire scene into motion.
As the children began to move towards their respective challenges, Cyrus felt the weight of responsibility settle heavily upon his shoulders. These young lives, so full of potential yet so vulnerable, were now in his hands. The thought was both terrifying and exhilarating.
He watched as the first brave souls approached the towering wall, their small hands searching for purchase on the smooth surface. Others eyed the rope course warily, calculating the best approach. The magical constructs at the far end hummed with energy, drawing curious and apprehensive glances.
Cyrus knew that the next few hours would be crucial. Not just for these children and their families, but for him as well. This was his chance to make a difference, to perhaps atone in some small way for the sacrifices that had brought him to this point.
With a silent prayer to whatever forces might be listening, Cyrus stepped forward to guide the first group of aspiring mages. The assessment had begun in earnest, and with it, the hopes and dreams of an entire generation hung in the balance.