“Are you nervous, Gai?” Louis whispered, leaning closer to his friend. His voice was soft but carried a weight of curiosity, his eyes scanning Gai’s face for any trace of emotion.

“I’m not really sure what I’m feeling, Lou,” Gai admitted after a moment, his voice low and uncertain. He glanced down at the dirt beneath them, absently tracing circles in it with his finger. “It’s like… there’s this knot in my stomach, even though I know what to expect.”

Louis didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he studied his friend carefully. Gai’s usually steady hands were fidgeting, and the faint furrow in his brow betrayed an inner turmoil he rarely showed. Before Louis could respond, Mack’s curious voice cut through the tension.

“What’s wrong, Gai?” Mack asked bluntly, tilting his head as if trying to read Gai’s thoughts. His tone wasn’t accusatory—it was inquisitive, the kind of question that came from genuine concern.

“You’ll see soon enough, I guess,” Gai replied with a half-hearted shrug. He nodded toward the robed figure working meticulously nearby. “Looks like he’s almost done.”

The four boys fell silent as they turned their attention to the man in question.

Dressed in the typical gray robe worn by academy elementalists, he was crouched close to the ground. His hands moved with careful precision, carving intricate runes into the dirt with an instrument that glinted faintly in the sunlight.

The entire dormitory sat in a wide ring around the mysterious figure, each recruit perched on the ground with varying degrees of unease etched onto their faces. Beyond them, across the training fields, other groups mirrored their arrangement—clusters of young men waiting silently under the same pale morning sky.

“Oswald, I am done,” the robed figure announced suddenly, his voice calm but commanding. He straightened slowly, brushing dirt from his hands as he stepped back from the glowing runic circle etched into the ground. “Let us make this quick; I have to test your whole barracks today.”

“Yes, sir.” Oswald stood up straighter at the man’s words, his tone deferential despite the absence of any visible insignia marking rank on the robed man. “Do you want me to hand out the vials now?”

“Introduce me first,” Gerald instructed firmly but without impatience. He folded his arms across his chest and surveyed the group before him with a critical eye. “Then proceed.”

“Ah, yes.” Oswald gave a quick nod before turning to address the recruits. His stance shifted slightly as he adopted a more authoritative demeanour, speaking loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Lads, listen up. This man is Gerald. He holds no military rank; however”—he paused for emphasis—“he is to be respected and taken heed of no matter what direction he gives you. Is that understood?”

A murmur of acknowledgment rippled through the group as heads nodded in unison. But despite their outward compliance, confusion lingered among many of them.

“Who is he?” Sorren whispered under his breath, leaning toward Louis so only he could hear.

“He’s an assessor from the academy,” Louis explained quietly but confidently, his voice tinged with familiarity. “We had one visit our village once—came to test Lord Harland’s children for their abilities.”

“Oh…” Sorren’s eyes widened slightly in recognition as he connected the dots. “That’s who he is. I was wondering when we’d finally be tested ourselves.”

“Alright,” Gerald began again, his tone brooking no nonsense as he addressed the recruits directly now. “I don’t know your names—and frankly, I won’t remember them unless you’re extraordinary.” His gaze swept over them with a clinical detachment that sent a shiver down several spines. “Here’s how this works: one by one, I’ll call you forward to stand inside this runic circle.” He gestured toward the glowing carvings with a sharp motion of his hand. “Once inside, one of these outer runes will activate based on your affinity.”

He paused briefly to let this information sink in before continuing. “The brighter it glows, the stronger your potential affinity is likely to be.” His eyes narrowed slightly as if daring anyone to challenge him. “This is just a preliminary assessment—it doesn’t define your future potential entirely—but it gives us an idea of where you stand, and where to send you for further training.”

As Gerald finished speaking, Oswald began moving through the group with a small wooden crate in hand. Inside were rows of glass vials filled with a shimmering blue liquid that seemed to swirl hypnotically whenever they caught the light.

“This,” Gerald said sharply as Oswald handed out the vials one by one, “is an activator draught.” His voice carried an air of pride as he explained further. “The academy has spent decades perfecting it—it forces an awakening of abilities that might otherwise remain dormant for years.” He paused meaningfully before adding, “It has not only helped strengthen our nation’s forces but also prevented countless incidents caused by uncontrolled awakenings.”

As Oswald approached their small group, Mack leaned closer toward Sorren and whispered conspiratorially, “Anyone else feel like we’re about to drink a bottle of poison?”

Sorren chuckled nervously but didn’t reply immediately—his focus was on Oswald as he handed Gai a vial first.

“Remember,” Oswald said firmly as he pressed the cool glass into Gai’s hand, “this is only preliminary testing. It’s rare for anyone to score above a five during these assessments.” His gaze lingered on Gai for a moment longer than necessary before adding pointedly, “No need to be as nervous as you look.”

Gai swallowed hard but managed a weak nod in response.

"First recruit, Gerald. He's taken the draught," Oswald announced, nodding toward a boy who stood stiffly beside him, looking like he might bolt at any moment.

Gerald gave a curt nod and beckoned the boy forward. "Centre of the circle. Right here," Gerald instructed, tapping his staff against the dirt at the precise middle of the runic arrangement. His tone was matter-of-fact, almost bored. "Mind the markings. They weren’t quick to draw. Tell me your name."

The boy stepped forward, each step hesitant as he took his place within the runes. His hands fidgeted in front of him, and Gai couldn't tell if it was the draught taking effect or just plain fear making them shake. The boy's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, his voice barely audible when he finally spoke. "I... I am Francis, sir."

“Speak up,” Gerald said sharply, not unkindly but with an edge that suggested he didn’t have patience for timidity.

The boy flinched slightly but obeyed. “I am Francis, sir,” he repeated louder this time, his voice cracking under the strain.

Gerald gave a curt nod. “Alright, Francis. Now listen carefully: try not to move at all.” His gaze softened ever so slightly as he noticed how tightly the boy was gripping his own hands. “You’ll be fine,” he added after a moment, though it sounded more like an observation than reassurance.

Francis swallowed hard and nodded stiffly, trying to control his trembling limbs as he planted himself in the circle. The gathered recruits fell silent and within moments, the runes flickered to life—a faint blue glow washing over the dirt. The light, barely perceptible at first, steadily intensified until it cast Francis's anxious face in an ethereal hue.

Gerald's expression sharpened with interest. He hunched over his notebook, quill scratching frantically across the page as he mumbled to himself. "Water group... possible sub-elements... stability low..." The words tumbled out in disjointed fragments too rushed for anyone to properly catch.

"That's a good start, recruit," Gerald finally said aloud, straightening up and squinting at his notes. "The blue indicates water affinity primarily, though it can branch into related elements depending on how you well you cultivate it. As for your power..." He tapped his quill against the parchment, studying the markings before returning his sharp gaze to Francis. "I'd put you at a solid three out of ten. Decent enough for a first assessment. With proper training and some actual effort, that number could climb—assuming you've got the discipline for it."

Francis exhaled audibly—a shaky breath that betrayed just how tightly wound he had been—and took a step back from the circle.

“You can sit down now,” Gerald added with a dismissive wave of his hand.

The boy didn’t need to be told twice. He nearly stumbled in his haste to return to the group of recruits sitting around the runes. As soon as he reached them, his friends clapped him on the back in encouragement.

“You did great!” one of them said with a wide grin.

“Yeah,” another chimed in, though there was an unmistakable undertone of relief that it hadn’t been their turn yet.

“Next,” Gerald called out without looking up from his notes.

Another boy, shorter and stockier than the Francis, rose to his feet. He wore an expression of grim determination as he handed his empty vial to Oswald and stepped forward. “Raul, sir,” he announced, his voice carrying a hint of defiance.

Gerald regarded him briefly, then gestured toward the circle. “Same instructions: centre of the circle, no fidgeting. Let the runes do their work.”

Raul’s movements were steady, almost mechanical, as he took his place within the markings. The glow began as a muted green, pulsing uncertainly before flaring with sudden brightness. Raul’s mouth curled into a satisfied smirk as he saw the light grow, and the other recruits exchanged murmurs of approval.

Gerald scribbled furiously, his quill darting across the page. “Earth,” he declared with a note of satisfaction. “Strong potential for secondary nature affinity. Power level: four. Well done.”

"You ready for this?" Louis asked Sorren excitedly, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Next!" Gerald's voice cut through their chatter.