Grandmaster Hong strode into the testing chamber, a vast, circular hall with observation pavilions perched along the second story, shadowed alcoves where the academy’s masters could watch unseen. The children waited below, small and uncertain, clustered near the chamber’s walls, eyes flickering upward with anticipation. This room, ancient as the academy itself, had been crafted to channel the world’s magical energies, thickening them like steam in a sauna. Hong could feel it—a dense, nearly suffocating warmth, wrapping around him as if the air itself was alive, thick and heavy like a humid summer storm.
He glanced down at the parchment in his hands, worn and frayed, bearing the faint stains of tea and the marks of a journey across the empire. Captain Takeda had brought this list, a roster of names scrawled from the farthest reaches of the empire’s borders. Too many, Hong thought with a twinge of impatience; his time was valuable, and he was the sole examiner today. “This won’t do,” he muttered under his breath. “I’ll have to thin them down.”
“Listen up!” Hong’s voice filled the chamber, carrying both authority and expectation. “I’ll call you up in groups of ten. Follow my instructions. If you succeed, a light will mark you, and you’ll go to the doors on the right. If you don’t, exit to the left and rejoin Captain Takeda.” His tone was firm but not unkind, the voice of a man accustomed to obedience. As he looked over the sea of young faces, he felt a spark of his own excitement—meeting each new cohort never failed to rekindle a quiet, personal pride in the academy’s purpose.
“Yes, sir!” came the resounding reply, a chorus of young eager voices. Hong called the first group forward—a cluster of older children, almost too old to begin training here. Older students rarely adapted well, but their inclusion was permitted if they showed remarkable promise. The academy preferred to begin its work young, cultivating loyalty to the Imperial Pantheon and deepening ties to the Imperial family from the outset—a process as essential as the Ki training itself in preserving the Kuro Empire’s power and ideals.
"Alright, I want each of you to put your hands out and act like you are cupping a ball between both your hands" he watched them all do as he was told and continued with the explanation, "Now. Focus all your will and energy on forming a ball of light between your hands". It was at that moment that looks of confusion sprouted upon the numerous students as they looked around trying to see if the others understood what to do, meanwhile others were sweating profusely trying to do as they were told. Being intentionally obtuse was part of the test. If these students couldn't grasp basic concepts of Ki without an in-depth explanation, they didn't have a natural affinity for magic.
Hong’s gaze swept over the group, his expression tightening with disappointment. Not a single child had managed even the first step. With a resigned sigh, he raised his voice, “None of you passed. Exit to the left. Next ten, come forward.” Murmurs of dismay rippled among the children, though some looked almost relieved. He reminded himself, not every soul was meant to wield Ki—it required more than just desire; it demanded the rare alignment of heart, mind, and spirit.
The test measured three core abilities. First, could they envision something from pure thought—a light, an object—something that existed only in the mind? Second, could they open themselves to the flow of their own spiritual energy, allowing it to circulate within? And finally, could they shape that energy, manifesting it as light between their palms? Only those who excelled at all three could be considered for the academy’s training. Raw Ki alone would never suffice here; they sought exceptional students, capable of extraordinary potential. There were plenty of regional academies that would accept lesser talents, but for the Imperial academy it was necessary to be more selective.
A person with only a modest ability for Ki could still thrive, particularly with a balanced regimen of martial arts and Ki training. This blend of disciplines allowed them to bolster their physical strengths, compensating for any gaps in natural talent. However, low-level Ki users rarely attracted the blessing of major deities; at best, they might carry the favor of a minor god or goddess, yet such figures held little sway within the Imperial Pantheon. The Pantheon comprised the most venerated and widely worshiped deities in the Kuro Empire, each one representing a facet of the Empire’s ethos and strength. Countless lesser gods and nameless spirits existed, yet most had no mortal followers. Occasionally, students who followed deities outside the Pantheon were admitted, but preference was given to those already connected to Imperial gods. Their shared devotion made it far easier to shape, train, and guide them according to the Empire’s greater purpose.
One group after another filed before the grandmaster, yet none managed to pass. A few grasped the first step, a promising sign of potential, though not enough for admission to the empire’s most prestigious school. Passing two steps marked them as average, fit for outer discipleship. Only those who could master all three possessed the talent worthy of full training, and even then, the true measure lay in the intensity of their light. Those who could not summon light at all were destined to fall behind, regardless of effort.
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When the last group—smallest in size and age—stepped up, Grandmaster Hong let out an inaudible sigh. He scanned their youthful faces with a flicker of doubt. These younger children, hopeful but naive, rarely held the raw talent the academy demanded, and his expectations remained low. Then his gaze settled on the girl standing furthest to the right, and a rare jolt of surprise flashed across his face, vanishing almost as quickly as it had appeared.
Something about this child captured his full attention. It was the eyes, he realized with a trace of unease—a piercing, crystalline blue so striking that they seemed to bore right through him. They were eyes he had only heard of in hushed stories, spoken of as a mark of misfortune or worse—a curse. No child with blue eyes had ever come to the academy, let alone to this sacred hall. Yet here she stood, meeting his gaze without flinching. A glimmer of intrigue sparked in his own eyes, and he couldn’t help but feel that this girl would bring something unexpected into the academy’s walls. This one is special, he thought, the slightest smile forming as he fought to keep his intrigue concealed.
“Proceed!” Grandmaster Hong’s voice echoed through the hall with renewed sharpness, a crisp command that spurred the children into action. As they arranged themselves into position, he observed each of them, yet his gaze kept drifting back to the girl with the blue eyes, though he kept his fascination discreet. No sign of strain or nervousness showed on her face, which was unusually serene for a child her age, and Hong’s curiosity grew. He had trained thousands over the years, but there was an unmistakable aura around this girl that set her apart, a confidence that neither innocence nor arrogance could explain.
The girl extended her arms forward, each held at a perfect angle as if cradling an invisible orb between her palms. Grandmaster Hong watched her, impressed by the natural grace with which she adopted the pose—her shoulders relaxed, her hands steady, every movement precise. The others tried to imitate her stance, but their efforts appeared strained and clumsy by comparison, betraying the inexperience that filled the room”
“Good,” Hong murmured under his breath, unable to hide a small nod of approval. “Next!” he called out, his voice cutting through the faint whispers and murmurs as the children advanced to the next step. Now, they would attempt to summon their spiritual energy. The very air around them seemed to hold its breath as the children furrowed their brows, sweat beading on their foreheads as they strained to summon even a hint of Ki.
But amid the struggling group, only the girl with the haunting blue eyes succeeded in gathering a faint but undeniable glow. Hong could feel it, like a soft hum resonating in the otherwise still chamber. Though the amount of Ki she summoned was modest, it had a unique texture, a subtle power unlike any he had felt in years. It was unrefined, yet somehow potent in a way that set his senses tingling. As a gentle light flickered into existence between her palms, a look of satisfaction softened his usual stern expression. At last, one with true potential, he thought, a sense of relief filling him. While her talent wasn’t overwhelming, it was raw and promising—and that, paired with rigorous training, would bring about a formidable practitioner. Talent alone was fleeting, but tenacity and discipline would make her exceptional.
“GOOD!” Grandmaster Hong’s voice rang with an intensity that filled the chamber, silencing the remaining whispers. “Everyone but the young girl on the far right, you may leave.” As the disappointed murmurs rose around him, he turned his gaze solely on her. “Young one, follow the path to the right; wait there until the other masters join you. Show respect in their presence and be mindful with your words. Understood?”
The girl offered a single, resolute nod, her expression unchanged as she turned and made her way to the opposite door, her footsteps quiet and measured. Hong watched her go, a faint smile forming as he observed her poise. She seemed to understand the weight of the occasion, and, unlike many her age, she didn’t seek his approval with pleading eyes or anxious looks. A quiet one… Hong mused, the hint of a chuckle in his throat. I like one who knows when to speak and when to listen.
He turned to leave the chamber, satisfaction lingering in his thoughts. It was rare to encounter a young disciple with promise before the official entrance exams. For her, the journey ahead would be both challenging and rigorous, but Hong felt a sense of quiet excitement. In the academy, gifted ones always stood out, but with those eyes, that focus, she would capture attention even among the most unique and talented students.