Cassian stood among a crowd of kids around his age. It was hard to guess their exact ages—most of them looked unique in so way, many as tall as him, though only a few were taller for their age. Unlike most, Cassian stood out at six feet, his lean but muscular fra evident in the way his half-sleeve shirt hugged his arms.
As he scanned the group, taking in the varied expressions and energy, he was caught off guard when a boy in the next line leaned toward him and said, "You do realize that little display of yours just put a target on your back?"
Cassian turned his head slightly, his crimson eyes locking onto the boy. The kid was shorter than him, maybe a few inches under six feet, with a wiry build and sharp, calculating eyes that seed to miss nothing. His tone was casual, but there was a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, like he was testing Cassian's reaction.
Cassian chuckled lightly, the sound low and unbothered. "Good," he said, his lips curling into a small, confident grin. "Makes it easier to see who's coming for ."
The boy chuckled, clearly amused by Cassian's response. "Not as much as you think," he said with a smirk before turning his attention back to the stage.
Cassian followed his gaze as masked figures, similar to the one who had brought him here, began filing onto the stage, standing in a line and staring straight ahead. Monts later, another man appeared—this one dressed in simple yet sharp attire: a shirt and pants. He was young but carried a stern deanor that demanded attention.
The crowd fell silent under his piercing gaze as he addressed them, his voice steady and commanding. "Welco, and congratulations on passing the first test of the Valtross Academy recruitnt exams. I am Evans Deas, the head examiner for this process."
The man's black hair was combed neatly, matching the precision of his spotless shirt and pants. His gait was deliberate, exuding an air of refinent that reminded Cassian of his etiquette instructors. It was enough to confirm Cassian's suspicion—this man was a noble. Yet, it wasn't surprising that Cassian didn't recognize him. With the sheer number of noble families across the Andharta Kingdom, it was nearly impossible to rember them all unless their roles directly impacted soone's life.
Evans surveyed the gathered students, his sharp gaze sweeping over their anxious faces. So looked terrified, others uneasy, and a few murmured nervously, unable to maintain composure. Taking in the scene, he addressed them with a steady voice.
"I apologize for subjecting you to such unpleasant sights during the first test," he began, his tone asured. "But it was necessary. I can assure you, the upcoming tests will not be as dangerous. There will be far fewer casualties, as those standing behind will ensure it."
He gestured to the masked figures lined up behind him, their presence adding an air of gravity to his words.
Everyone turned their attention to the masked figures behind Evans. So of the more timid students looked visibly relieved by his words, though not all shared their ease. Fear still lingered in the eyes of many, their uncertainty heavy in the air.
Evans continued, his voice steady and authoritative. "If any of you feel you cannot continue, there is no sha in stepping away now. Simply raise your hand, and an exam officer will escort you out of the training grounds and back to your families. The choice is yours—just raise your hand if you wish to withdraw."
As Evans gestured, several masked figures stepped forward to guide the handful of students who had raised their hands toward the exit. The departing students moved quickly, heads down, their footsteps echoing faintly against the tense silence.
Among the remaining group, sneers and whispers broke out. So of the students exchanged smug looks, their expressions dripping with disdain for those who had chosen to leave.
Cassian, however, remained still, his face impassive. He wasn't here to judge anyone—he had enough on his plate without worrying about the choices of others.
The boy from earlier, now standing a step closer to him, broke the silence. "What do you think of them?" he asked casually, tilting his head toward the departing students.
Cassian glanced at him, slightly caught off guard by the sudden question. After a brief mont of thought, he shrugged and replied, "Nothing much. They made a smart decision. A bit cowardly, sure, but smart."
The boy chuckled softly, his amusent clear. "Smart? How so?"
Cassian glanced at him briefly before nodding toward the students being led out of the recruiting grounds. "Well, the man on stage said there'd be fewer casualties than the first test, but there will still be casualties. I'm guessing not everyone here wants to end up as one."
He watched the departing group, his expression neutral, while the boy raised an eyebrow, seemingly pondering Cassian's perspective.
The boy's smile widened, a glint of interest in his eyes. "I like how you think," he said, offering his hand. "Na's Rylan. Rylan Dastor. Sothing tells we're going to get along just fine."
Cassian glanced at the extended hand for a mont before shaking it firmly. "Cassian Alacio," he said, his tone calm but asured. A small smirk tugged at his lips. "I also think we'll get along just fine."
Internally, though, he was brimming with excitent. He recognized the na. The kingdom of Andhrata was renowned for its warrior families, many of which boasted skilled mages among their ranks. But the Dastor family was an exception—a lineage of pure mages. Every mber of their family had achieved the esteed Astraval rank at so point in their lives, whether early or late.
As Cassian's eyes briefly studied Rylan's striking silver irises, he felt certain that this boy had already begun his journey toward that sa legendary rank, or even ahead.
He felt a spark of excitent at the prospect of befriending Rylan. Building connections with influential figures was one of his personal motives for coming to the academy, despite the danger. And Rylan wasn't going to be the only one. Cassian's gaze swept over the crowd, settling on a few who were already making a na for themselves.
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