The School for the Awakened loomed over the city like a silent guardian. The massive, multi-story building, built within the monumental skeleton of a dragon-like mutant, drew every gaze with its uniqueness. The gleaming white bones of the giant seemed to tell a story of an ancient battle, echoing through the structure's very essence. Between the creature's ribcage rose modern glass walls reflecting the city's panorama. The spine of the skeleton housed an observation tower, pulsing with the protective barrier's light, making the school look like a citadel guarding humanity against the dangers of the rifts.

Even though he was late, Izak refused to give up. He sprinted into the school, trying to locate room 1256. The place was enormous, a labyrinth of hallways and staircases. "Who even designs buildings like this?" he thought, dashing past a crowd of other candidates.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a line of people. Thankfully, it was the queue for his assigned room. The crowd was so large that not everyone had entered yet. Pilsudski joined the line, clutching his throbbing arm.

"Lucky break..." he thought with relief, though the pain of his wound gnawed at him.

When it was finally his turn to enter, an examiner stopped him. A tall man with a stern face glanced at his torn clothing and makeshift bandage.

"You look like you just walked out of a fight," he remarked, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe you should try again next year? We wouldn’t want you fainting mid-exam."

"I can handle it!" Izak replied, clenching his fists as if to prove his determination.

The examiner sighed and gestured for a nurse to tend to him. She quickly applied a fresh bandage and gave him painkillers.

"Suit yourself," the man muttered, resigned. "But remember, it's your risk."

Pilsudski nodded and entered the room. It was vast, filled with hundreds of people of all ages—from teenagers to middle-aged adults, and even one elderly man with a stout build and weary eyes.

"What’s going on here?" Izak wondered as he found his seat.

There was no time to dwell on it. Three examiners in black suits entered the room. Their footsteps echoed in the spacious hall, and the murmuring crowd quickly fell silent.

The man in the center, with sharp features and unnaturally pale eyes, raised his hand.

"Due to the large turnout, the exam has been slightly delayed," he announced in a calm but commanding voice. "It is now 9:20. You have 60 minutes to complete the test. Begin."

At this signal, everyone flipped over the sheets on their desks. Pilsudski did the same, only to find his sheet... blank.

"What the...?" he muttered, glancing around in confusion.

Similar whispers and murmurs of discontent rippled through the room. Some raised their hands, others shifted uneasily.

"You won’t need pens," the examiner declared.

Suddenly, a dark energy began emanating from him, intense and suffocating. The light in the room was consumed, plunging everything into a pitch-black void—darker than Izak had ever experienced.

Screams and pleas for light erupted among the candidates.

"What the hell is this?!" Pilsudski thought, cold sweat running down his back.

The examiners radiated an oppressive energy, sending eerie vibrations through the room, almost physically crushing those present. Some participants collapsed, unable to endure the pressure.

Izak gritted his teeth. "It’s just like when Filip made me withstand radiation. I have to get through this!" he resolved, steadying his breathing and clearing his mind.

Soon, he managed to enter a heightened sensory state. Only then did he notice what had been invisible before—three streams of spiritual energy emanating from his blank sheet: blue, yellow, and red.

"Is this... magic?" he wondered, trying to decipher the task.

A sudden sense of danger snapped him out of his thoughts. He turned to see floating eyeballs gliding silently through the room, searching like hunters in the dark.

One eye stopped near a woman’s desk, and the examiner's voice echoed ominously:

"Participant number 275 is disqualified. Reason: cheating."

The woman began to protest, but a black vortex opened beneath her feet, swallowing her in an instant.

Pilsudski froze, realizing the purpose of these eyes. "So, I have to solve this while dodging those things? Great..."

He observed what others were doing. A young boy with a purple aura was blending the energies on his sheet to create new colors. Izak tried to mimic the technique but sensed an eye approaching him.

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"I need to be careful... there are so many of them."

When the eye moved away, he returned to his task. He intuitively combined the energies, creating different hues. The process was painstaking and demanded extreme focus, but Pilsudski knew this was his only shot. There was no room for hesitation. Ignoring the throbbing pain in his arm, he poured every ounce of effort into manipulating the energies. Finally, he realized the solution—to create all the colors of the rainbow and arrange them in the correct sequence.

As the gong signaling the end of the exam rang out, Izak collapsed into his chair, wiping sweat from his brow.

Afterward, all participants were directed to a waiting area. The room buzzed with chatter—people sharing their impressions, complaining about the exam's difficulty, or fretting over their results.

Ten minutes later, results began streaming in via a communicator. Despite the pain in his arm, Pilsudski felt a wave of relief when he heard his name among those who passed.

The highest score went to the boy with the purple aura. "I wonder who he is..." Izak mused, intrigued.

As the crowd moved toward the next room for class assignments, Pilsudski followed.

Suddenly, a hand clamped onto his shoulder.

"And where do you think you’re going, kid?" a familiar, mocking voice asked.

Izak turned to see Filip grinning at him.

"To my class?" he replied, confused.

Filip raised an eyebrow.

"Your class? I think you misunderstood. I entered you into the elite class exam. That was just the first stage."

Pilsudski stared at him, stunned.

"What?! Are you serious?!"

The elite class was reserved for those with exceptional potential and unbreakable determination. Its entrance exam was held once every four years, as there could only be one active group of such students. It was both an honor and a monumental challenge—graduates of the elite class often became leaders in military or government roles, defending humanity against rift threats.

But joining the elite class came with immense risk. The training was grueling, and students faced life-threatening situations during their education. Missions in actual rift zones tested their skills and resilience to the limit.

Filip shrugged.

"Maybe you should’ve read the documents you signed."

Izak clenched his fists.

"How did you convince my mom?!"

Filip’s grin widened.

"I told her you’d finally found a purpose in life and wanted to become a general like your dad. And, well, I might’ve... stretched the truth a little. Just a tiny bit, to keep her from worrying."

Pilsudski sighed heavily but met Filip’s gaze with newfound resolve.

"So, what now?"

Filip chuckled.

"Now you face two more exams. Better prepare yourself, kid."

Filip led Izak through the school’s corridors to the waiting area where the second stage of the exam was about to begin. The building was massive, with its modern interiors contrasting sharply with the raw skeleton of the dragon-like mutant that housed the school. Glass walls reflected the light of the protective barriers, and the halls were filled with an eerie silence, broken only by the faint echo of footsteps.

Finally, they reached a spacious hall teeming with candidates. This was where Izak would wait for the next part of the exam to start. The headmaster stopped at the entrance, glancing at him with a smirk.

"Good luck, kid. And remember—watch your step, not every path leads to the goal," he said, then walked off, humming a tune under his breath.

Izak sighed and glanced around the room. Among the crowd, he spotted a familiar figure from the first exam—a boy with a violet soul. He stood out among the others. His hair was curly, one side brown, the other white, and paired with violet eyes, it gave him a unique appearance. Beneath each eye was a small mole, and his outfit was completed with a striking red scarf that seemed utterly out of place in the sweltering summer heat.

The boy sat in the corner, arms crossed, as if waiting for something. Izak decided to approach him.

"Hey. We were in the same room for the first exam, right? Congrats—top score," he said with a small smile, trying to strike up a conversation.

The young man raised his gaze, a hint of an ironic smile appearing on his face.

"Well, well. I didn’t expect someone from the illustrious Pilsudski family to speak to me," he said, his tone cool but tinged with curiosity.

Izak frowned, confused.

"Illustrious family? What are you talking about?"

The boy chuckled softly, his violet eyes gleaming in the light.

"Don’t play dumb. Your family name is well-known among the Awakened. Your father was one of the most powerful generals. And now you, his heir, are entering the game."

Izak felt a strange stir within him. His father rarely spoke of his past, let alone his position among the Awakened. Before he could respond, the boy continued:

"I saw you copying my technique during the exam. Clever, though not very original."

Pilsudski’s cheeks flushed slightly.

"Copying?" he scoffed, trying to mask his embarrassment. "I was just inspired."

The violet-eyed boy raised an eyebrow, his smile growing more mischievous.

"Of course. Call it what you like. But let’s be honest—you wouldn’t have passed without my help."

Izak clenched his fists but took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure.

"Maybe I was inspired, but I did the work. If you were in my position, you’d probably do the same."

The boy studied him for a moment, then shrugged.

"Maybe. But it doesn’t matter. The exam is just the beginning. I’m curious to see if you live up to your family name or end up like the rest of the mediocrities."

"We’ll see about that," Izak replied with determination, meeting the boy’s violet eyes.

The young man’s grin widened.

"I hope so. It’d be boring if you disappointed me."

Izak didn’t respond. He felt like this conversation was a game where every word carried more weight than it seemed. But one thing was certain—this interaction had only motivated him further.

Suddenly, a loud chime echoed through the room, signaling the start of the next stage of the exam.