In three centuries, Zachariah had seen more kados than he could remember. They came in all shapes, sizes, and styles, but two things were always the same. First, the false swords had to be crafted from wood; and second, they were the physical records of their masters’ accumulative years of experience and effort during training. And more than anything else, this is what mattered to Zachariah.

A breath for a breath, and a sword for a sword, the General quoted in his head. Let’s see what manner of offerings you three have forged.

The graying warrior patiently watched as each boy unwrapped their bundles, revealing their offerings of the wood and sweat. The one called Saul was the first to pull out his kado of red oak. It was shorter than average, about thirty inches long, and curved from hilt to tip. Even from where the Sacer stood, he could tell it was well worn and abused. The handle was a few shades darker than the rest of the sword, where years of sweat had stained the wood. Overall, it was an acceptable offering, but it was the second kado, identical to the first, that caught Zachariah’s attention.

A duel-wielder, the General mused. Don’t see too many of those these days?

With a grunt, the giant named Caleb pulled his sword out of its cloth. Zachariah stared at the monstrosity! It was one of the largest kados Zachariah had seen in years. The weapon was almost as tall as its bearer and carved in the shape of a colossal broadsword. The boy’s massive hands wrapped around its thick hilt with ease, but there was no question of the pure weight of the wooden mallet. One direct hit would crush an ordinary man.

Size can be overrated, thought the General. If he can’t wield it, it’s no different from a tree branch blowing in the wind—Caleb snapped his wrist, flipping the enormous kado into the air before catching it with his left hand! Then, with another flick, he spun the sword over the heads of his companions before dropping the kado across his outstretched arms. So, not a tree... Zachariah corrected. Maybe a windmill? The General smiled at his own joke. Then his smile vanished.

PINE! The gray-haired warrior almost lost his barring. Only with discipline did he hold back his rage. No, not just pine, but white pine. Zachariah felt deflated. He had started to like these peculiar lads from Tri-star. But only a fool would bring a pine kado to the Sacer Trial of Entry. And Zachariah did not suffer fools.

The hooded boy was oblivious to the thoughts and feelings of the Sacer General. Instead, his thoughts were on the precious instrument he held in his hands. He had brandished this kado for over seven years. Ever since the day his master handed him the long block of white wood and told him to form it into a blade, it had rarely left his side. His hands knew every inch of his weapon; it was part of him—a part that someday he would have to give up.

Musa squeezed the white kado until he heard the wood creak. Then he relaxed, and with both hands, he offered the weapon to the Sacer that stood before him.

“Illmanus Champion,” said the hooded boy, “do you accept our challenge that we may earn the right to present our offerings to the Kane?”

And there it was again—the formal request of challenge. How long had it been since Zachariah had heard it? One... two hundred years? The inevitable mix of time, necessity, and progress had ended the old traditions. With the war’s insatiable hunger for new warriors, the Sacer recruitment process had become accelerated, streamlined, and—stale, thought the General.

All this formality and ceremony were irrelevant. These applicants had already been registered, processed, and approved for testing. And yet, Zachariah wanted to play along.

Is it nostalgia? The gray-haired warrior examined himself. Maybe. Or maybe I’m just getting softer in my old age. Zachariah eyed the kados one more time, and the sight of the pine sword still bothered him, but he would resolve that soon. Why not? He decided. How did that go again?

The Sacer cleared his throat and said, “I, General Zachariah Abel of Heron, Illmanus Champion, accept your challenge for the right to present your offerings to the Kane. For as it is written, ‘to become a Sacer, you must first fight a Sacer.’ Therefore, I, Champion of Thyella, salute you. Draw and fight me.” It was like an old friend; the words flowed from Zachariah, and his body followed the instructions, drawing his sword, saluting, and taking a fighting stance. This is right, he thought. This is how it should be.

Musa heard the words of the General but could not believe them. He was about to fight a Sacer!

“Here... we go,” Saul announced. “Last chance, we can still walk away and go--”

“Go where?” asked Caleb. “We can’t go back home. Not unless we become one of them.”

“Still, I would rather walk away than be carried away.”

“Really? I reckoned you would always prefer someone to carry you.”

“Touche,” said Saul before addressing the hooded boy next to him. “Musa, it’s your decision.”

“No, Saul,” Musa said. “Caleb is right. We decided when we left Tri-star. Besides, this could be fun.”

“Now you’re talking!” said Caleb. “The first one with a broken bone loses!”

Saul groaned. “If that’s the case, we should probably salute and not keep the Sacer waiting.”

“For Master,” Musa whispered as he brought the broadside of his kado to his forehead. “Just like how he trained us. If we do as Master instructed, we will make it through this.” The other two acknowledged and saluted the waiting Sacer.

Simultaneously, Saul and Caleb took a few steps forward, then dropped into their fighting stances. Caleb raised his huge kado overhead in a high posture while Saul crouched low, wielding one weapon in front of his chest and the other down by his side. Musa did nothing.

Zechariah observed from a short distance, his kado still drawn towards his new adversaries. Though it was not the first time he had seen groups work together, this team differed from most. They were a collection of paradoxes and oddities that the General wanted to unravel and explore. But out of the three, the young hooded boy with the white kado held his attention.

Those eyes aren’t right, Zachariah reasoned. That’s it... How did I miss it? Children from Tri-star don’t have blue eyes! Then, through the Shade, those eyes glowed.

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Invisible threads of light pulled from the air and swirled among the three boys.

Vigor and lots of it! The General perceived with Shade Sight. Shade tech? No. These threads are unrefined. This is innate consumption. These are Natural Users! The General grinned. That makes four today. After the warmup with Marcus, Zachariah was eager to stretch his limbs a little more. So let’s see what you three can do.

Radiant tones of wisping light poured into the three children of Tri-star. The colors mixed and formed hues distinctive from one another; tints of red and blue pooled into Caleb’s wooden weapon, then seeped up into his arms and shoulders. Meanwhile, intertwining strands of blues and yellows laced into Saul’s feet and hands. Zachariah knew these patterns well. The giant was using Reinforcement on his kado and upper body while the vagabond had applied Windwalker to his limbs. But the hooded boy still did nothing as the surrounding Vigor dissolved.

Musa closed his eyes. Stay calm, he told himself. They need to fight first—that is what Master said. I need to wait for the opening. When Musa reopened his eyes, his two friends attacked!

The giant advanced first. Caleb moved faster than Zachariah had expected. Initially, the General thought the boy was using Vigor to increase his speed, but there were no signs of additional commons in play.

No, not Vigor, he thought. That’s just pure strength. Size and speed, now that is a deadly combination! But let’s see if he can fight?

Caleb covered twenty feet in two strides before leaping into the sky! Then, with a mighty shout, he bore down on the Sacer with a generic downward strike. But regardless of how generic the technique, with Reinforcement surging through the boy’s massive weapon and elaborate muscles, the attack hissed through the spot where the General had just been! The earth cracked from the blow, then erupted, flinging chunks of dirt and soil in all directions!

Although flashy, such a large attack was unless on the Sacer General. Zachariah had already jumped out of range before Caleb drove his kado into the ground. He had planned to counter Caleb’s assault with one of his own, but the sudden emergence of the soaring vagabond interrupted his intentions.

Caleb knew the Sacer would avoid Meteor Strike. Meteor Strike—that is what he called the technique. He did not know if it already had a name or if anyone else had created it before him. Probably, Caleb figured. Millions of warriors had fought with Vigor; at least one of them had slammed something heavy into the ground at some point in time. Still, Caleb liked the name he gave it—Meteor Strike. It made him feel smart, which he was. Very smart indeed. Sure, he enjoyed playing the part of the big oaf, but very few knew his secret. Caleb’s mind never stopped working. He felt like a thousand bees permanently lived in his brain. They never stopped buzzing, and he never stopped listening to them.

For example, while fighting a Sacer General, his mind was thinking about a dozen other things. Most of them were not significant, like, what am I going to eat after the Trial? How long can I hold my breath underwater (it’s been ages since I last tried)? Or, if the wind had a color, what would it be? But then there were other, more vital contemplations, like, when I use Meteor Strike, how far will the Sacer jump back to avoid the impact? Will the density of the earth here prevent me from withdrawing my kado from the ground, and, if so, how long will it take me to get it out? Or is my back correctly angled for Saul to run up it? This last question was answered when Caleb felt the light footsteps of his friend race up his spine and launch off his shoulders. So, I guess it is, he concluded.

Caleb’s angle was perfect. When Saul vaulted off the giant’s shoulders, the sun was directly behind him. Saul’s shadow passed in front of the General as the boy descended, and the duel-wielding vagabond struck with both kados.

Zachariah was impressed by the timing of the two attackers. It was apparent now that the giant’s strike was a ruse meant to provide an opening for the duel-wielder. Furthermore, they angled this attack to align with the morning sun, hoping to blind him from the assault.

Very tricky, thought the General. Too bad human sight means nothing to me. Otherwise, this would have been a good plan. Through the Shade, the Sacer missed nothing, the threads of Vigor that surrounded all things called out to him; even if he had no eyes, he would yet see—that was the power of Shade Sight.

Zachariah intuitively planned his subsequent actions. First, dodge to the left, he formulated. Then, trap the child with his forward momentum, and strike him from behind. Next, send a spin kick to the stooping hulk’s sternum, and follow it with a downward cut to his clavicle. Finally, in the off chance the vagabond recovers, finish him with a rising slash to his chin. This was the General’s intention, but this is not what happened.

As Zachariah dodged, Saul’s kados carved out two different techniques that shocked and bewildered the Sacer—Crown of Light and Consuming Blaze!

Not possible! The General denied what he saw. The boy had flawlessly executed two distinct and advanced techniques. That alone was impressive, but not impossible. But what was impossible were the techniques the child of Tri-star had performed. They were Sacer techniques.

Saul landed with the grace of a falcon and pivoted to his right, bringing his weapons to bear on the distracted Sacer. Imbued with Windwalker, the duel-wielder’s barrage flowed like twin tornadoes! And each technique he used was one he should not have known, yet he did.

Saul lashed out with Impaling Darkness, Splitting Shadows, and Twisting Radiance with his left kado, while his right struck with Crown of Light, Impaling Darkness, and Fervent Inferno!

To avoid the onslaught, Zachariah had to either start blocking or pull more Vigor; he chose the latter. In a microsecond, yellow threads of Shade energy streamed into his body, invigorating the Sacer. Again, the General became like an intangible phantom evading the entire foray. He lunged, rolled, and weaved through the attacks like water through fingers.

Zachariah did not know if the display of Sacer swordsmanship should impress or anger him. Who would have the gull to teach our techniques outside the Great Hall? The General brooded. In nine hundred years, these forms have never been revealed! Even King Vassel vowed to keep them secret when he left. So, how did a farm boy from a backwater planet attain them? With the Sacer preoccupied mentally with the conundrum of stolen techniques and physically with his evasion of the unrelenting farm boy, he was caught half surprised by the rumble behind him!

Caleb ripped his weapon from the earth with a surge of red Vigor through his shoulders, arms, and kado! Chunks of rock, dirt, and soil hurled like missiles toward the General! However, Shade Sight is absolute. Zachariah had perfect perception of his surroundings, like a spider web signaling the slightest movement of a trapped victim.

Gravity released its grip on the gray-haired warrior as he hurled himself over the flying rubble. He tracked every piece of debris as it passed under him and landed only when it was safe. But when he did, Caleb was on him! From the corner of his eye, the General saw the large, lumbering farm boy cut from the ground to the sky in an elaborate zig-zag pattern!

Purging Thunder, the Sacer acknowledged, no longer surprised.

CRACK!

The space where the massive kado cut crackled as if struck by lighting! And though the attack missed, Zachariah was close enough to feel its intensity; the raw power stung his face!

Enough, the General decided. This is no longer a trial. It is now an issue of security. These boys need to be detained and questioned. I have to end this quickly... Then the Table will decide their fate.

It was over in an instant.

The Sacer vanished.

He reappeared behind Saul, and the boy’s body flew through the air like a rag-doll.

Then he vanished again.

Caleb knew there was nothing he could do. The General materialized behind him.

Zachariah struck at the boy’s neck!

SNAP!

...

...

And for the first time in three hundred years, Zachariah’s kado was blocked.