Glass beads pelted Rhys’ skin as he clung to his wooden post, shivering. Blinking water from his eyes, he peered up. Each flash of lightning was another beat of his racing heart while dread pounded into him from the roar of rolling thunder that echoed across ominous storm clouds. A shudder ran through his form as the array of colors in the bolts poisoned everything with their radiance━a reflection of what was yet to come.

Were it not for the glow of the mana-infused glass rain and the storm above, Rhys wouldn’t have been able to see the others around him, similarly clinging to poles against the wind’s force. Each, like him, had their right hand tied to the post, and while he could reach over to free it, a quick glance to the knights around the arena reminded him just how far he would get.

Stay up, he thought, clenching his teeth as a gale threatened to force him off his pole. His arms stiffened, every muscle protesting as the weight of the glass rain bore down on him. Each popped against his skin, spraying him with water as it released a colored mist that shimmered in the wind. Gold obscured his sight as the wind whipped the mist into his face, and he felt it push against his entire being. 

No! He gritted his teeth. He refused to be a manacaster━he couldn’t afford to be owned by the government, not now! Come on! Shivering turned into trembling, his muscles weakening. Forcing his knees to stabilize, he spared a glance to his right where he heard a thud.

The girl who’d been standing at the post several yards away from him laid upon the muddied earth, quickly followed by a second further into the sea of posts. Rhys barely saw it even happen, the cry of the man hardly a whistle in the wind. Then a third, further off, Rhys becoming acutely aware of them through the hundreds of eighteen year olds here. 

Another puff of golden mist washed over his face, and his right arm relented. Rhys scratched at the post with his nails, desperately trying to hang on as the tempest buffeted him back. 

“Glassit!” he cursed, clawing his way back to clinging on. Then his knees buckled.

No!

His eyes widened, a golden bar slowly extending from the corner of his vision. He barely managed to keep himself upright, using the muscles of a blacksmith to fasten himself to the post. Getting his trembling legs under him, he forced them to support him. 

I can’t be, I can’t be! He hollered against the storm, mana weakening his strength everytime it passed over him, chipping away at everything he had left! I’ll be damned if I fail here! Pushing, he closed his eyes, every spray of water a reason he stayed up.

Mom. 

She had no one left, she needed him and the income he provided. 

A flash of light forced him to open his eyes, barely seeing sparks from where lightning struck the ground nearby. His hair stood up for all of a second before the rain forced it back into its flat, drenched state and the wind whipped it about. 

As the sparks died, he saw a knight dragging a woman across the muddy ground. Knights were already collecting those who had collapsed, and if Rhys couldn’t keep upright...

Freedom.

Glassit! He couldn’t afford to lose it! After this, many men his age would be drafted into the Immortal War, but not him. No, he had a way out━an apprenticeship to a master blacksmith. Supplying the war effort with weapons and armor would save him from the draft, but he just needed to pass this trial first. 

With one final misting of gold, the bar in Rhys’ vision finished filling. He cried out, his muscles aching. It took everything he had to hold on, gasping in air and groaning as he felt like he was heaving his own weight to stay up. 

Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

[Light Divinity] appeared beneath the bar. Buffs. He could do buffs, defense spells, and healing. 

I can use that, he realized, shooting his eyes to another knight dragging someone else out of the arena. No, he thought. It was too dangerous. Manacasters could see someone using mana, and even with so much misting about, he was certain it wouldn’t be enough to hide him. Not to mention, he had no idea how to cast a spell. 

That thought fled, along with his hopes of freedom as a gale slammed into him, throwing him off of his pole. “No! No!” he whipped a hand forward, trying to grasp at the pole. Instead, his hand caught the rope he was attached to, his palm burning as it rapidly slid over the rough material. Crying out, his muscles pulled when he came to an abrupt stop, the ground behind him far too close for comfort.

“No!” he hissed through clenched teeth, reaching with his other hand as well. With a defiant anger, he placed one hand over the other, climbing back up to the pole and clinging to it. 

“It will not be me!” he growled, the verbal affirmation somehow strengthening him, even as more mana pelted him. 

I promised her I would come home! he thought. “I promised her!” Reinvigorated, Rhys could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. He could do this, and he would. While others collapsed, he maintained himself. No one would ever know he was a manacaster; not even a soul! Just a little━

Violet misted over him, darker than any of the other colors, bringing with it dizziness. His right knee buckled, and he shifted to his left, only for it to give out too. More violet mist washed over him, other colors from the rain merely a background to it as it stood out like fire. 

A second bar began to form under the first. 

Impossible! Two divinities? It’d never happened before, not that he ever heard of. 

Hope came crashing down as his legs continued to give out everytime he got them under him, then an arm would. Rhys rotated between all his limbs, fighting against the wind and rain that weakened him. Each time that violet color stretched in his vision, something else let go. He wasn’t just trembling now. No, it was something more. Convulsing. His form was violent as he fought to stay up. 

[Dark Divinity] popped up under the bar upon completion. I can... do it... He growled, his eyes watering, stinging from perspiration mixed with rainwater. Where he was cold before, he was now burning up, fighting every chaotic moment. It was over if he fell. 

His arms gave out, and Rhys felt himself collapsing. No amount of clawing saved him as his knees hit the mud. This was it. The rain had him, the wind controlled him, and worse of all, the mana owned him. Soon, it wouldn’t be the only one. 

Yet, in one last attempt, he fought to stay upright on his knees, leaning against the post. If only the wind would stop beating against him, then maybe, just maybe...

Sun broke through the storm clouds, warming Rhys’ drenched form from above. Shifting to look up at it, he pulled a hand up, shielding his eyes from its sanguine light. The rain slowed, pattering him, and with it, mana fading. 

I can still do this, he realized, the wind ceasing. “Get up,” he told himself, and gripping both sides of the pole with callused hands, Rhys grunted, pushing himself back up to his feet. 

I could feign something━too cold, maybe, thoughts raced to him as he considered what to say if he was questioned. He knew it was likely to come since others stayed upright the entire time. Too cold, or the wind pushed me over. Lost my grip, he listed.

Before long, a knight in blue was untying his rope. He too was drenched, dirt across his uniform and face. “Really thought you were going to fall there,” he said, scrutinizing Rhys with dark brown orbs.

“It was just... fear,” Rhys croaked, and looked up towards the clearing skies. “Wet and cold fear.” An honest answer, in a way. 

“Let me walk you out,” the knight offered, and Rhys nodded. 

He turned slowly, fearing that if he moved too fast, his still shaking legs would simply give out. Finally facing towards the exit, he paused. Freedom was through that portcullis, leading out into a big city, one Rhys was desperate to escape. All he had to do was walk out. 

The first step was awkward, the weight bearing down on his legs every time he inched one in front of the other. I can do this, he thought, placing the next foot in front of him, then the next.

Blood rushed to Rhys’ head, dots starting to blot out his vision. He shook his head. No, no! I can do this! Taking another step, he gasped, his stomach dropping as he went down, his awareness slipping with it.