“Students who possess enchanted weapons and items must report to Instructor Batts. During inspection, you must remove all enchanted items except the two you intend to carry into the Dungeon. Please abide by the rules.”
“Many of you may become freshmen of Cariliman Academy in the future. Before you enter, allow me to teach you one thing: obey the academy’s laws and mottos. This is the one red line we will never cross. Do you understand?”
Everyone answered in unison that they understood—though how many truly took it to heart was anyone’s guess.
A steady stream of students made their way to Instructor Batts to register their enchanted gear. As expected, most were aristocrats; commoners could scarcely afford a single low-tier enchanted trinket, let alone weapons.
This privilege—like the cultural written test—was technically open to all, but in practice reserved for noble families. Civilian and minor-noble students lingered at the sidelines, eyes glued to the young masters and ladies laying out blades, gauntlets, staves, and bows for inspection.
Vinny should have been among them, empty-handed. Instead, last time he ventured out he’d crossed paths with a benevolent stranger who gifted him his life—and two upper-tier enchanted tools, prestigious artifacts meant to last a lifetime.
Scanning the courtyard, Vinny noted Aesphyra’s absence. She must have reported at the alternate entrance for another kingdom’s candidates—wise move after her rebirth. No need to flaunt her Soul Armament this early.
When Vinny stepped into the registration line, whispers darted like startled birds.
“Even he has enchanted gear now?”
“Just when you thought you’d seen everything.”
“Bet it’s just trinkets. He’ll still get eaten alive in the Dungeon.”
“Men shouldn’t wear rings and earrings. Give me a good sword over sparkle any day.”
Vinny ignored them. When his turn came, he said calmly, “Good day, Instructor. These are the two enchanted items I’d like to register.”
He removed a pair of ice-crystal earrings and a simple silver ring, laying them neatly before Batts. The instructor produced a magic lens, recorded their elemental signatures, then handed them back without comment. No demonstrations—these were each student’s secret trump cards.
Vinny replaced his accessories. Nearby nobles gawped.
“A ring and an earring? Hardly a weapon.”
“He’s clowning the whole thing—first the test, now this.”
“Mark my words, he’s dead weight in the Dungeon.”
Meanwhile, Instructor Batts continued:
“As the assessment proceeds, the safe zone will shrink. If you endure to the final stage, your token will activate at the last moment, teleporting you to the Grand Square of Cariliman Academy. There you will be welcomed by faculty and students, and receive your official admission certificate.
“Now, you each will receive a token and a fragment of the Dungeon map. Guard them at all costs. The token—bearing your name—tracks your points and ensures your safety. Should you suffer a lethal blow, it will activate to block the strike and teleport you to safety.
“If you encounter mortal danger in the Dungeon, do not hesitate: crush the token. Remember, ‘Where green mountains remain, there will be firewood.’
“On behalf of Cariliman Academy, welcome to all motivated candidates.”
With a wave of his hand, tokens carved from pale jade and incomplete map fragments drifted into every palm. Vinny turned his map over: “5” was etched on the back—his assigned quadrant.
This exam was engineered for chaos. The rules encouraged melee: only by defeating more opponents could you gain an edge. Killing monsters alone wouldn’t secure a win—by the time you reached the final zone, anyone with a complete map would outmaneuver you. Others would hunt you as hungrily as you hunted them.
Cariliman Academy trained its students like eagles casting fledglings into the void: fly or die. The weak were culled; only the strong remained.
Vinny sensed the shift in the air. Candidates exchanged furtive glances, vigilance burning behind their eyes. They might call each other brother or sister, but verbal pacts meant nothing once the Dungeon gates closed. Promotion, family honor, personal ambition—each was a knife’s edge. The tokens guaranteed no one would truly die, but elimination equaled failure.
He saw others discreetly summon their Soul Armaments, bracing for ambush the moment they stepped inside. It didn’t matter which kingdom their attackers came from.
Recalling the original records of this assessment, Vinny’s chest tightened. This year, every Heroine of Destiny had shown—save Mirecia, already enrolled, and the distant Demon Queen Julianna, ineligible for this trial. Every other gifted individual stood here now.
If you ran into one of them, misfortune would plague you for eight lifetimes. If you crossed paths with Aesphyra, nine.
He swept his gaze across the crowd. None of the famed heroines were visible—Aesphyra must truly be at another gate. A small mercy, for now.
This was good news. The Dungeon map was vast, but with so many candidates entering, Vinny had to be ready to fight the moment he stepped inside.
He tightened the straps on his pack. He’d be in the Dungeon for days, so his bag held Vanessa’s special weapon, plenty of water, bread, and other necessities.
After registering his enchanted items, Vinny rejoined the queue and stared at the platform.
“Before we open the Dungeon, remember: life comes first. Don’t act rashly out of youthful impatience,” the white-bearded instructor boomed. He twirled his beard, leaned his staff on the floor, and held aloft the Dungeon key. As he chanted, the air around them trembled and warped into a pale vortex—like a space-time wormhole. Tiny objects lifted into the air, drawn toward the swirling portal. None of the candidates—noble or commoner—had ever seen such magic. Despite knowing it was safe, many hesitated at the brink.
Vinny surveyed the reluctant crowd and saw wasted time. Those who entered first would claim every advantage.
Just as he was about to step forward, a familiar voice called out:
“Lord Vinny, there you are! Why are you standing so far back?”
He turned to see Malric striding up. Vinny couldn’t help but grin.
“What a ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ coincidence—you’re at this branch’s entrance too?”
“Indeed,” Malric replied, though Vinny could sense the unease behind his forced smile. “You always show up exactly when I need you.”
“Did I pick the wrong moment?” Malric asked, eyebrows knitting.
“Not at all,” Vinny said, his smile widening. “Perfect timing, in fact.”
Malric blinked. “My timing?”
“Have you ever dreamed of being renowned—a hero worshipped by all?” Vinny asked.
“Of course,” Malric admitted warily. “But why ask now?”
“Because your chance is here,” Vinny patted his shoulder. “I can’t hog it—I’m giving it to you.”
Malric’s face drained of color. “Lord Vinny—what are you talking about?”
“No time for questions,” Vinny said, grinning wickedly. “You go first. Scout ahead in the Dungeon. I’ll see you inside.”
“Wait—what are you—” Malric protested, but without warning, Vinny delivered a swift kick to his hip. Malric went tumbling through the portal with a shriek.
“Ahhhhh!!!” he cried—then vanished in silence.
“Malric’s bravery is unmatched! Are you all right in there? If so, shout back!” Vinny called into the void. There was no reply; those inside could not hear him.
He glanced at the others. Inspired by Malric’s “heroic” leap, more candidates surged forward. Hesitation was pointless.
Vinny didn’t hesitate either. He took a running leap into the vortex.
A flash of white light, a moment of weightlessness, then solid ground beneath his feet. Dizziness washed over him as the double-vision cleared. Cicadas buzzed overhead. Blinking against the dappled sunlight, Vinny realized he stood in a dense forest.
He patted his pocket to confirm his token was still there—and that all his gear remained intact.
It had begun.
“Malric? If you’re here, reply!” he shouted a few times. Silence answered. The portal’s teleportation was randomized—candidates from the same kingdom were often scattered to prevent early alliances. Good for Vinny: fewer friendly faces meant fewer old enemies.
Adjusting the machete at his waist, he moved deeper into the woods, listening for any stirring.
“Rustle... rustle...”
A nearby bush quivered. Vinny spun around. A black rabbit, twice normal size and with keratin-rimmed ears, stood blinking at him. Magic rabbits were omnivores—lazy but dangerous if startled. They rarely attacked humans, but each carcass meant points.
Vinny drew out his ice-crystal earring. With a twist, it transformed into a long Frostfang spear, its blade glowing with pale light. The blue tassel whipped in the breeze.
The rabbit panicked and darted for cover. “Where do you think you’re going?” Vinny hissed, hurling the Frostfang. The rabbit leapt, but the spear’s tip caught its ear mid-jump, pinning it to the soil. It thrashed frantically, blood pooling beneath it.
Seizing his sword, Vinny rushed forward and hacked at the creature in wild, emotion-driven swings—no fancy technique, just raw fury. When the rabbit lay still, he set down his bloodied blade.
Two points blinked onto his token’s score display.
Vinny pocketed the token, slung his pack tighter, and pressed on, ever alert for the next sign of movement in the undergrowth.