The summer breeze drifted quietly through the cedar trees surrounding Shimana Shrine in Ninju, Tzehae State. Unlike the familiar training grounds of SAIR Central Division 2, the shrine carried an entirely different rhythm. Wind chimes swayed gently beneath the wooden beams, while the faint scent of incense started mixing with the sea breeze. 

In the empty field behind the shrine, however, the atmosphere was different. 

It was a portable modular house, assembled from black metal panels and temporary walls. From the outside it looked no different from a temporary construction office, but in reality, everyone around Araka’s circle knew what was about — a maze assembled for the upcoming certification exam for Matake users. 

Araka stood quietly before the entrance, her fingers wrapped around the training lightsaber that had just been handed to her. The letters on her SAIR issued zipped hoodie reflected below the sunlight. 

It felt strangely light — not because it was easier to wield, but it was merely a toy with a sensor at the top.

In front of her, Yon stood behind a folding table, reading from a tablet. The traditional dark blue coloured robe fitted perfectly on top of his usual SAIR black uniform. 

“Candidate Peni A— Nevermind, Peni Sara (北依 紗羅).”

“Present.”

He nodded. “This certification evaluates your registered Matake technique under restricted visibility.”

He pointed toward the modular building.

“Inside is a dynamically changing maze. The lighting has been completely disabled. During the examination, the maze may alter portions of its layout. Additionally, the maze contains pressure traps, moving barriers, and concealed trap doors. They are not intended to injure you, only to interrupt your progress.”

Araka nodded.

“Now comes your main objective,” Yon switched to another page: “Within twenty minutes, locate at least five of the seven target mannequins.”

A diagram appeared on the tablet, which was projected to a projector behind Yon.

“Each mannequin contains a designated strike point, marked in a square shape by photofluorescent paintings. You are required to accurately strike that point using the training lightsaber. If a strike is considered valid, your lightsaber will vibrate and give a ‘beep’ sound.”

He paused briefly.

“If your strike is inaccurate, the defensive mechanism will activate.”

Behind Yon, a diagram of an examinee being knocked off balance appeared on the screen. 

Araka gave back another nod. 

“Understood.”

“Good,” Yon said as he turned off his tablet. “Tell me once you’re ready.”

At the same time, Araka’s thoughts were somewhere else — not about the examination, but how she got there: the time when she first knew how to use her lightsaber fight against Milo agents in Shaonshu; the time when she faced off shard influenced zombie figures in an abandoned mansion; the time when she used her Matake field overcoming those who were much more powerful than her; and of Sarel told her about her surprising long backstory. 

Back then, every swing of my lightsaber had been driven by instinct, Araka thought, but now I’m doing it systematically.

 I can finally have my own spell! Her mind told her.

“I won’t fail your expectations, my mighty Hekon,” Araka said to herself, volume barely above a whisper. 

Then, a gentle tap landed on my shoulder.

“Sara-cha, are you alright? We’re starting the exam.”

Araka blinked. 

She turned back and found Jinhui, in her shrine robe, standing quietly behind her. Her short brown hair gently moved with the breeze. 

“Ah, sorry,” Araka scratched her head and apologized, letting out a small laugh, “I was thinking too much again.”

Then, she took one slow breath, adjusted my grip on the training lightsaber, and stepped forward.

“Instructor — no, Master Yon…” she bowed respectfully, “I am ready.”

—

As the exam finally started, Araka moved swiftly toward the dark room and started her exploration. At first, her steps were more cautious — she couldn’t see anything inside the dark room, and the 3D-printed practice lightsaber she had used throughout her training on her hand only had a faint glow through the reflective paint. 

Guess I need to focus now, Araka thought while resisting her urge to rush. 

She gave a deep breath and allowed her Matake field to settle around her. Then she blinked, and then the darkness changed: not as clear as under daylight, but she was able to see the edges of walls and doors, along with the outlines of obstacles on the ground. 

Araka smiled: now it’s better. 

She moved forward, first cautiously, then faster. At the end of the corridor, something caught her attention — a small door, with something behind it. 

Araka stopped. She concentrated her field toward the door, and eventually, she found it — a faint square of heat appeared at the chest of the mannequin within her perception..

Araka reached for the handle and opened the door..

“…Found you.”

She stepped forward and swing her lightsaber against the heated target on its chest.

Beep.

The practice lightsaber vibrated and and the target deactivated.

“One down.”

Araka immediately turned back toward the maze.

—

Inside the monitoring terminal — a small booth with three foldable tables inside a small tent — Jinhui and Hakasa leaned toward a laptop connected to several thermal cameras installed throughout the modular structure.

On-screen, Araka appeared as a bright figure moving through the darkened maze.

Jinhui stared at the screen.

“I still can’t believe Sara-cha can do that now. If I were her, I wouldn’t even be able to see anything. 

Hakasa smiled. “That’s what a natural Matake field could really do, I guess —

On the screen, Araka moved around a tight corner. Yet this time, her foot caught the edge of a box-shaped obstacle.

Thump.

Araka stumbled on the ground. 

“…Sara-cha?” Jinhui said. 

A moment later, Araka stood up again and picked up her lightsaber, while rubbing her forehead. She looked back and eyes landed on the obstacle block despite being unable to properly see it, and continued onward.

“…Well,” Hakasa leaned back and said, “I guess Araka still has a long way to go.”

—

Elsewhere in the rear wing of the shrine, Huashin is also in motion. She sat behind a low table on her legs while holding an ink-dipped brush, while Kinekama sat opposite her. Between them lay several sheets of calligraphy paper, an inkstone, and a brush.

Huashin stared intensely at the blank space beneath the certification statement.

She lowered the brush on the calligraphy paper, while a bead of sweat emerged on her forehead. Then, she made a stroke, quickly followed by another. 

Kinekama watched closely. 

As the calligraphy was near its completion, her expression gradually became concerned.

Huashin finished the character.

“…There,” she said with a small smile. 

Kinekama grabbed a magnifier and closely examined the work. Seconds later, she looked at Huashin, and then back at the paper again. 

“…Huashin.”

“Yes, Master Kinekama?”

“Were you actually raised in a shrine?”

Huashin’s smile immediately froze. “…Why are you asking, Master Kinekama?”

“I thought calligraphy was mandatory.”

“It was.”

Kinekama pointed toward the page gently: “Then why do your strokes look like they were written by a young boy?”

Huashin stared at her signature. “Umm…”

Kinekama tilted her head. “Did nobody correct you?”

“They did, several times actually,” Huashin replied. 

“And?”

Huashin put down the brush.

“Master Kinekama…” She sighed, “Even my own master told me my calligraphy was … ugly.”

Kinekama blinked. “He actually used that word?”

Huashin nodded: “That’s why as soon as I left the shrine, I no longer do any calligraphy.”

Kinekama sighed: “… But now you have to sign a Shrine Certification for Araka. I still couldn’t believe someone with a sharp mind like you somehow couldn’t sign your name properly.”

“Master Kinekama…”

“Guess now it’s not too late to learn it the correct way,” Kinekama said while pushing another clean sheet toward her., “give you your hand, and I will guide you through the proper way.”

“How many more are we going to do?” Huashin stared at the growing pile of failed attempts beside her and said.

“Until your signature stops looking like you’re declaring war on the paper.”

Huashin sighed deeply and extended her hand to Kinekama. 

—

Araka pushed herself back onto her feet.

She brushed the dust from her knees and stared accusingly at the box-shaped obstacle she had just tripped over.

“…Okay,” she tightened her grip around the practice lightsaber, “Maybe a little more carefully this time.”

She started forward again, this time with her steps moving slower. 

Then she noticed something. 

Araka took a closer look at the lightsaber again. The replica in her hand wasn’t quite like the weapon she would use in an actual mission.

A real lightsaber would cast enough light to illuminate at least part of the space around me, she thought, yet this one only produced a faint glow along its tube.

Araka looked down at it one more time. 

Wait a second…

If I can use the heat from the lightsaber as a reference… Araka slowly extended it ahead of her, its faint thermal trace appearing immediately within her Matake perception. 

A smile crossed her face.

Maybe I don’t have to rely entirely on the room.

Araka moved on again. This time, the lightsaber became something like a torch — she pointed her lightsaber at the area she couldn’t see clearly whenever she needed a point of reference. 

After crossing over several obstacles, Araka’s Matake field vision landed on another door — another mannequin is inside. Yet, she stopped — her Matake field told her something was wrong beneath her right foot. 

“Why is the floor so loose?” She said while lowering her lightsaber toward the floor, “Is that a …”

The faint glow illuminated almost nothing to her ordinary eyes, but after blinking her eyes, Araka was able to see it clearly with her focused Matake field — her right foot was in the middle of a square. 

Araka tapped her right foot on the floor nearby. 

It’s solid outside of the square, she thought. 

“So that’s where you are,” Araka smirked, “Mr. Trapdoor.”

Araka proceeded carefully by placing one hand against the wall and carefully moving around the trapdoor. She held her breath and squeezed through the space that was just wide enough for a small step each time. 

Several seconds later, Araka made her way through and entered the room. She immediately sensed the mannequin and the target in front of her — the one stood with one arm blocking the obvious approach to the target.  

“Really?” She muttered.

She then scanned across the room using the faint light of her lightsaber and checked if there were any extra hidden traps. Then, she was relieved — it’s just the mannequin’s arm blocking the way. 

Araka lowered herself, slipped beneath the mannequin’s arm, and twisted the practice lightsaber upward.

A small tap.

Beep.

Araka smiled.

“Two more to go.”

—

Meanwhile, Huashin’s discarded calligraphy paper began piled up like a small hill. 

“No,” Kinekama slid another sheet away, “I told you not to dump the brush on the paper.”

Huashin sighed. “Master Kinekama…”

“Do it again.”

Huashin took a breath and dipped the brush into the ink. This time, she slowed down.

Just less pressure, more control, she told herself. 

Then, Kinekama’s expression started to ease as Huashin finished the characters — a lighter, more delicate touch.

Huashin lifted the brush as soon as she finished writing.

“Now that’s something what I would expect from an elegant, shrine-educated young woman,” Kinekama nodded and said.

Huashin looked proudly at her name, yet for her, it was still incomplete. She dipped the brush back into the ink nearby, and after a few quick stroke, a small star appeared beside her signature.

Kinekama stared at it and confused.

“Huashin, your calligraphy is finally acceptable, but why did you add a star beside it?

Huashin smiled and pointed toward her own name as though the explanation were obvious: “Because that’s my name.”

Kinekama continued staring.

“Huashin (化星)  — ‘becoming a star’,” Huashin pointed toward the little drawing. “So — star.”

Kinekama didn’t respond. 

“And besides, I always included that in my own signature — if I always add this, nobody can easily fake my signature.”

Kinekama slowly removed her reading glasses.

“You still behave like a child sometimes.”

Huashin’s cheeks puffed slightly: “I’m young, like not even thirty yet.”

Kinekama sighed. 

“Fine. I’ll let you pass this time,” she said. 

“Thank you, Master Kinekama.”

“Just don’t draw three of them when you sign on the certificate.”

“I wasn’t even going to…” Huashin looked sideway and muttered.

—

Inside the maze, Araka continued.

After another trapdoor, another narrow passage, and even a false turn that brought her almost directly back to where she had started, she managed to take down another target with a crisp ‘beep’.

Araka took a small break by leaning against the nearby wall, her breathing was getting heavier, sweat ran along the side of her face.

Guess it’s about the time, she said to herself while scanning around, trying to locate the last mannequin.

She expanded her field further down the corridor. Eventually, she found something — a crack on the wall beside her, in the shape of a door.

Araka pushed against the wall and let her Matake field seep through the crack. 

Take your time, Araka said to herself while sweat dripped from her forehead.

Then, she used her body to push against the wall and eventually made her way inside — a mannequin stood upright in the room with the target square right at the centre. 

“Guess that’s the last one.”.

Outside, right beside the control terminal, Yon glanced at the timer.

“Guess Araka is getting there,” he said, “though she needs to hurry up.”

“Yeah,” Hakasa said, “I would be sad to see if Araka didn’t pass only because she messed up the timing.”

Then —

Buzz.

The timer just ended.

Yon immediately turned toward the screen and checked the counter on the upper right corner of the screen.

“5 out of 7,” Yon repeated the reading under his breath. 

A moment of silence followed.

Then —

Jinhui opened her eyes wide after seeing the reading. She pumped her small fist downward, eyes curled up, and chanted: “Horray, Sara-cha!”

Inside the screen, Araka was still recovering from her last hit. She didn’t know what happened yet, but from this point, one thing was clear — 

She is now a shrine certified Matake sorcerer.