The next morning arrived swiftly, golden sunlight spilling over the rooftops as the academy selection process loomed ahead.

  Ren sat at the wooden table in his family’s shop, absently tracing sigil patterns with his finger. His father had left early to handle business, while his mother busied herself in the back. It was a quiet moment—one of the last he’d have before everything changed.

  A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

  “Ren, you up?”

  Leo’s voice.

  Ren stood and let him in. Leo looked well-rested, but tension lingered in his shoulders, his usual easy confidence dulled by the weight of the decision ahead.

  “So… today’s the day,” Leo said.

  Ren nodded. “You decided yet?”

  Leo exhaled. “I keep thinking about it. The Royal Academy is… the safe choice. Best resources, best training, prestige. But Crimson Fang…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “They take warriors. Fighters who push past their limits. That recruiter—he saw something in me, and I can’t stop thinking about that.”

  Ren folded his arms. “So what’s holding you back?”

  Leo hesitated. “My parents. They want me at the Royal Academy. It’s the obvious choice, and honestly… I don’t think they’re wrong.” His gaze drifted. “But is ‘obvious’ the same as ‘right’?”

  Ren considered that. Then, after a moment, he smirked. “That’s funny. I’m debating the same thing.”

  Leo’s eyebrows rose. “Wait—you’re not set on the Royal Academy?”

  Ren shook his head. “Green Zone is stable. A clear path. I’d be learning alchemy, refining, runecrafting. But Obsidian Hall…” His fingers tapped against the table. “They don’t take people who fit neatly into a box. If I go there, I’d have to carve my own way.”

  The room fell silent.

  Then Leo chuckled. “So let me get this straight—we both got into the best school in the kingdom, and we’re sitting here wondering if we should turn it down?”

  Ren smirked. “Guess we don’t like making things easy.”

  Leo huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “We’ve got to decide soon.”

  Before Ren could respond, the sharp clang of a bell echoed through the streets—a deep, resonant sound that carried authority.

  “Guess that’s our cue,” Ren said, glancing toward the window.

  Leo let out a breath. “No turning back now.”

  They stepped outside, joining the flow of examinees heading toward the town hall. The streets were busier than usual, though most onlookers weren’t there to spectate. Instead, clusters of commoners gathered, murmuring among themselves, their faces lined with tension.

  Ren recognized the look—hope, dulled by years of watching their own get passed over.

  The town hall, a sturdy stone structure that doubled as a meeting place for city officials, loomed ahead. A row of carriages stood parked at the side, each bearing the crest of a noble house. Uniformed servants bustled about, carrying finely wrapped parcels—gifts.

  Bribes.

  Ren’s stomach twisted, though he wasn’t surprised.

  Inside, the hall was already arranged for the selection process. Long tables lined the room, each bearing the banners of different academies. At the farthest table sat the Royal Academy representatives—three men and two women, draped in rich blue and gold robes. Unlike the other recruiters, who watched the arriving students with sharp, appraising eyes, the Royal Academy’s representatives barely paid attention. They were already speaking with noble families, their discussions polite but detached, as if merely confirming details that had already been settled.

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  Ren spotted a noble boy—one who had barely scraped through the agility trial—being handed an official parchment. His father stood beside him, nodding in satisfaction.

  Leo’s jaw clenched. “Unbelievable.”

  Ren remained quiet, though his hands tightened at his sides.

  At the other tables, commoner students approached the recruiters with hesitant steps. Some were turned away immediately. Others were handed simple letters with polite but dismissive words.

  “Limited spots this year.”

  “The selection was highly competitive.”

  “Consider alternative career paths.”

  For many, this was expected. Even those who had performed well knew that without backing, their chances were slim.

  The official overseeing the selection process adjusted his posture, scanning the assembled recruiters. The tension in the hall thickened. Names were about to be called—each one carrying the weight of a future decided in an instant.

  A stout man in crimson-trimmed robes stepped forward first, his voice crisp and authoritative. The sigil on his lapel marked him as a representative of the Royal Academy.

  “Leo Thorne.”

  Leo straightened as the recruiter addressed him.

  “The Royal Academy formally extends an invitation to you. Your combat and agility results were exemplary, and your affinity for enhancement sigils shows great promise. You would receive the highest quality training under the best instructors in the kingdom.”

  Before Leo could reply, another voice cut through the air.

  “We disagree.”

  A woman in a deep gray cloak stepped forward. A silver sigil gleamed on her shoulder—the mark of Crimson Fang Academy, an institution known for producing elite warriors and battle-mages.

  “Leo Thorne, your results prove more than just technical skill. You have the instincts of a fighter. At Crimson Fang, we do not train scholars. We train warriors.”

  Leo’s fingers twitched at his sides. He hadn’t considered Crimson Fang before, but now they were standing before him, extending a hand.

  Before he could process it, another name rang out.

  “Ren Aldren.”

  Ren lifted his head as the Royal Academy recruiter turned toward him.

  “The Royal Academy acknowledges your exceptional performance in the sigil assessment and theoretical exam,” the recruiter began. “With proper guidance, you could become a scholar, an artificer, or even a battle-mage. We would be honored to welcome you.”

  A murmur rippled through the onlookers. Two commoners receiving direct invitations to the Royal Academy? Almost unheard of.

  Then another voice spoke.

  “Ren Aldren, we also extend our hand to you.”

  The speaker was an older man in obsidian-black robes. Unlike the other recruiters, he lacked polished charm or commanding presence. Instead, he carried the quiet weight of someone who knew things others did not.

  Obsidian Hall.

  “Magic is not a path of certainty, but of discovery,” the man said. “And you, Ren Aldren, are the kind of student we seek. One who will not just learn the rules, but question them.”

  Silence stretched across the hall.

  Then, a wiry man from Green Zone Academy stepped forward, his expression uncertain.

  “The Green Zone Academy would also like to extend an offer,” he said. “With your skillset, you would thrive in enchantment, alchemy, or sigil refinement.”

  But even he knew his offer was outmatched.

  Leo had two choices. Ren had three.

  And unlike the nobles, no one had made the decision for them.

  The official cleared his throat. “Leo Thorne, have you reached a decision?”

  Leo hesitated, then exhaled. “I accept the Royal Academy’s offer.”

  The Crimson Fang representative frowned but said nothing.

  The official turned to Ren. “Ren Aldren, what is your decision?”

  Three choices.

  The Royal Academy—the safest, most prestigious path.

  Obsidian Hall—the unknown, where innovation and risk walked hand in hand.

  Green Zone—a solid, stable future in research and craft.

  Ren’s mind worked quickly, weighing the options.

  Then, he made his choice.

  “I accept the Royal Academy’s offer.”

  The hall murmured in disbelief. Two commoners. Accepted.

  Some nobles scoffed. Others watched with narrowed eyes.

  But none of it mattered.

  Ren and Leo had earned their place.

  And no amount of noble whining was going to change that.