“Next!!” called Magister Fauticia.

  The sounds of her voice echoed off the chamber walls as the dark clouds seeped into Keldon’s mind.

  “I… failed?”

  The lanternlight in the room cast ghastly shadows as the other examinants shuffled around, finding their places as Alton gazed at him with sympathy. No, it can’t end, not like this. The bitter memories and scars he’d received in the last few weeks throbbed on his arms. All this, and for what?!

  Bent over on the sand, Keldon pounded his bloodied fist on the floor. He trembled. Tears welled in his eyes. He’d gotten so far in three weeks!! Look DAMMIT!! It wasn’t fair!! He’d worked so hard!! It wasn’t fair!! It just… wasn’t.

  He dug his fingernails into the hot sand expecting sneers of scorn as he looked up to the Magisters. Judgmental looks upon the pathetic failure that he was.

  “Just show it to me! Tell me I’m a failure already!!” Keldon thought, looking up.

  Except, his last parting gift from the Grand Academy wasn’t scorn and dismissive arrogance, rather, mere pity. Nothing more. And that stung worse. “I’d rather you just spit on me,” thought Keldon. Mild intrigue floated on Magister Randle’s expression but disappeared to indifference. He didn’t want their pity. He was… should’ve been better than this. A shadowy hand kept a vice grip around his windpipe, preventing him from speaking and choking him on the truth.

  “I… failed.”

  Magister Fauticia gave him a look of practiced empathy, probably having seen thousands like him in her lifetime. “I understand you’re upset, but the exams must continue. You may remain in the testing arena if you’d like examinant, but I’m going to have to ask you to step aside,” she said.

  The words clung to the air like hot grease as Keldon nodded absentmindedly, pulling himself up as his head low on his shoulders. His knees trembled as he dragged his feet through the smoking sands of the testing area.

  Nervous whispers came from the examinants around him.

  “If he failed, what about us Hapkin?!”

  “No no no, father’s gonna cut off my allowance!”

  “So THAT’s why they sell all that comfort food outside the testing areas.”

  *Ding*

  Up above in the wooden vessel, the jingle of a bell immediately captured both Magister’s attention. Magister Fauticia waved her hand, cutting through the noise as both she and Magister Randle rose to their feet.

  “Silence Examinants!”

  She stiffened her posture, craning her neck to address the wooden vessel above them all.

  “Have you perhaps finally found someone of interest?” asked Magister Fauticia.

  “I have,” said a voice inside the wooden vessel.

  The Magisters eyed each other nervously as examinants looked around to one another, straightened their posture. Which one of them would it be, Keldon thought.

  Wait. Could it be? Keldon whipped around and dusted off his cloak as he stared at the looming wooden vessel, daring to dream.

  He was the last one up to take the exam. If the mystery person would have picked someone else, wouldn’t they have done so already? Hope swelled in his chest as Keldon fiddled with his scarf’s silky threads. The wooden vessel hung from the ceiling like a hornet’s nest. But threatening atmosphere or not, it was clear that the Magisters respected whoever was inside, even more so than the daughters and sons of nobles.

  There was a rumbling inside the wooden vessel as the scraping of a chair and the shuffling of feet echoed inside. The brass knob on the side door of the wooden vessel rattled. Keldon’s heart pounded as his eyes were glued onto the shaking piece of metal, wondering who this mystery person could be.

  Silence. Then, another rattle. Then another, this time more violent.

  “Blasted faulty human contraption! Fauticia, explain why this door won’t open!”

  “Try pushing the knob in before you turn,” said Magister Fauticia.

  The wooden door banged across the hinges as the person inside violently shook the doorknob as Keldon’s enthusiasm was slightly dampened. What kind of person opens the door like that?

  “I did, and it won’t- “said the mystery person.

  A loud crack split the air as the mystery person inside tore the thick door off the hinges, sending a rain of splinters onto the annoyed magisters.

  “Oops. Oh well,”

  Still concealed by the curtain, the mystery person casually tossed the hefty door with a flick of their wrist. Despite being roughly eight feet long, the slab of oak soared over Keldon’s head as the examinants scrambled to get out of its destructive path. It landed with a heavy boom into the sandpit, kicking up sand in the process as Keldon shielded his eyes.

  “Take heart human, knowing you will be my first student.”

  A young woman with curled fiery red hair and golden yellow eyes stepped out of the wooden vessel with a bold smirk as she locked her gaze onto him. There was boldness in her smile and confidence in her step as she strode out into the open. She adjusted her embellished silver chest plate, tightening the straps around her shoulder as she hopped out of the wooden vessel, plummeting through the air. Keldon rushed forward, running to help break her fall when suddenly, she unfurled a blinding set of feathery white wings.

  Keldon’s eyes widened like saucers as he screeched to a halt, feeling a burst of heat course through his body. With a menacing flap of her silky bleached wings, the WarAngel spread her wings blotting out the lanternlight and casting a dark shadow on Keldon. He clenched his fists in white-knuckled fury.

  “It’s a fucking WarAngel,” thought Keldon.

  Upon seeing the young woman unfurl her wings, the other examinants scrambled to their knees as they lowered their heads, even Alton. Tense whispers spread throughout the crowd as none of them dared to meet her gaze. Keldon ground his teeth, forcing a neutral expression as he tore himself away from his anger to bitterly kneel, his eyes locked in a burning glare at the sand. Just a few steps away from him, he heard the looming approach of her bloodstained boots against the sand. Adrenaline coursed through him, causing his arms to twitch as the blood pumped in his ears.

  “Lift your head and rise, human. Formalities are for protectors and protected. I want to bond with my new student,” said the WarAngel.

  Even the thought of being a student of this monster made Keldon’s blood boil, he could feel Karyx spurring him to action. Violent action. The kind of action that made him want to grab the throat of the rotten bitch and tear it out through her neck.

  “No!!” Keldon thought, “Stop it, not now! Down. Down!!!”

  The violent thoughts swarmed his brain. So strange, he hated the WarAngels, but never thought or felt like this before. The thoughts tore at him like knives on a chalkboard. Must… Suppress! He choked the swirl of burning adrenaline inside, lifting his head to meet her cold gaze as she beamed at him with a condescending WarAngel smile. The kind that states “you are beneath me.” No ifs, ands, or buts.

  “Oh. You're scrawnier when I see you up close. No matter. Like mother always said, great things come in manflesh-sized packages! Sometimes,” said the WarAngel.

  “I am Divine Aurielle Syleste of Untamed Gales. But from teacher to student, simply Master Aurielle Sylveste will do,” said the WarAngel.

  Magister Fauticia raised her fist to her mouth, coughing loudly and drawing the WarAngel’s attention. “Divine Syleste, students here at the grand academy typically refer to their mentors simply by their title, not full name. It’s redundant,” said Magister Fauticia.

  “Do they now? Strange, most humans call me by my full name and title. Well then, Divine of Untamed Gales will do.”

  “Not that title, Divine Syleste. The other one.”

  “Just Master then?”

  The WarAngel looked up to Magister Fauticia who nodded with a smile of approval.

  “Excellent. Just Master it is,”

  The thrums of anger slammed against his ribcage, scorching his bones a deep black as it took all of his willpower not to reach out and wipe that shit-eating grin off the WarAngel’s stupid face. His vision grew cloudy and red while pain seared the flesh on his arms. The WarAngel cocked her head at him, splitting into two mirror images that ebbed back and forth.

  “Say Fauticia, do humans with Ignis-type07 skill orbs normally smoke up like this?” said the WarAngel, moving out of the way to let Magister Fauticia see the column of black smoke that poured out of Keldon’s clenched fist. Dark crimson blood dripped down the side of his arm which was scorched a light black.

  Magister Fauticia leaped to her feet in alarm, pouncing off the balcony as she rushed to a wobbly Keldon. “Alert a medic!! His mana’s rebounding!”

  Keldon’s knees gave way as he fell into WarAngel’s arms who looked around with an uncertain look on her face. His vision faded in and out as he felt comforting energy envelop his body, forcefully soothing Karyx as his consciousness slipped from his grasp and his last thought floated around in his mind.

  “My mentor… is a fucking… WarAngel.”