The air was electric with anticipation as the crowd gathered in the massive arena, their collective energy humming in the warm morning sun. Colorful banners draped the towering walls, rustling in the light breeze as hopeful recruits, Shunjiro and Itsuki among them, lined up on the sandy floor. Above them, spectators packed the stone stands in tight rows, a constant din of excited chatter and clapping reverberating across the arena. Suddenly, a resonant clang echoed as the towering metal gates began to creak open. A hush fell over the arena, broken only by the rustling of armor and the distant cries of hawkers selling refreshments. Through the slowly parting gates, a golden pathway was revealed, lined with banners bearing the radiant sunburst emblem of the Kingdom of Radiance. The path seemed to glow under the sun’s rays, a glimmering stage for legends to walk upon. The crowd erupted into cheers as the first members of the Gilded Blades, the kingdom’s foremost guild, stepped into view. A surge of energy pulsed through the stands, like a wave rolling from one side of the arena to the other. Even the crisp morning air felt charged, as though it too recognized the presence of greatness. Akira Namiki emerged first, slender and resolute, her Light Blade shimmering like crystallized starlight in her grip. The weapon glowed with spiritual energy, leaving a faint, golden trail behind her with every motion. Her black hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, and her sharp yellow-green eyes scanned the crowd with quiet intensity. Clad in ornate golden armor that caught the sunlight and flared brilliantly, she looked like a warrior sculpted from the dawn itself. Each step she took seemed to brighten the arena floor. “That’s Akira!” Itsuki whispered beside Shunjiro, barely able to contain her excitement. “They say her blade can cut through anything.” Shunjiro’s eyes widened. He’d heard the stories, but seeing her in person, her poise, the aura she exuded, sent a chill of awe racing down his spine. Next was Mei Hoshino, gliding into the arena like a wisp of wind. She moved with the effortless grace of a dancer, her short gray hair catching the light in soft flickers. Her matching gray eyes held a calm detachment, as if she were already two steps ahead of everything around her. “She’s so cool,” Itsuki breathed. “Imagine having someone like her watching your back.” Then came Hiroto Makabe, towering and unshakable. His spiked black hair had streaks of gray, evidence of battles fought and survived and his face was set in a stoic, weathered expression. Like Akira, he wore gilded armor, though his was trimmed in crimson, denoting his seniority and command presence. Each heavy step he took caused the ground beneath him to subtly tremble, a visible manifestation of his density control ability. “That guy’s no joke,” Shunjiro said, watching with admiration. “You can feel the weight of his power from here.” Yumi Kurosawa followed closely, her energy serene and soothing. She wore a flowing white top and a pink skirt that matched her soft pink eyes. Her long black hair danced behind her in the breeze like silk, giving her an almost ethereal presence. A gentle hum followed her, barely audible, yet calming to the soul. Recruits near her visibly eased, shoulders relaxing as if the tension were being drawn out of their bodies. “I’ve heard her healing powers are unmatched,” Itsuki said in awe. “She uses sound waves to mend wounds… some even say she can calm the most violent beasts.” And finally, the crowd reached a fever pitch as the last figure stepped onto the stage, Kaito Ishiro, the leader of the Gilded Blades. Dressed in a sleek, midnight blue cloak that fluttered with his every step, he carried an unmistakable air of quiet command. A katana rested at his side, its sheath elegant but clearly worn from use. His neatly kept black hair was complemented by a finely trimmed mustache, giving him a refined, almost regal appearance. He waved to the crowd with a calm, confident smile, his eyes gleaming with the warmth of someone who had earned respect, not demanded it. Despite his legendary status as the fastest warrior alive, there was an approachable humility in the way he carried himself. “That’s Kaito,” Shunjiro whispered, voice reverent. “The fastest swordsman in the world…” The five warriors stood together, a radiant formation of strength, grace, and legacy. The Gilded Blades. All at once, the arena fell deathly still. Footsteps echoed along the golden pathway, each one deliberate, regal, heavy with presence. Emerging from the grand archway was none other than King Shadis himself. Draped in flowing golden robes that shimmered with their own inner light, he carried the weight of a legend and the silence of a thousand watching eyes. His crown sat high upon his head, elegant and unyielding, framing a face marked with time and wisdom. Black hair streaked with silver-gray swept back behind his ears, blending seamlessly into a finely trimmed beard of the same pattern. A long, pristine white cloak billowed behind him, its edges lined with gold, and proudly displayed across his back was the sigil of the Kingdom of Radiance: a radiant sun crest encircled by wings. The hush remained unbroken. No clapping. No cheering. Only the soft rustle of garments as every spectator, commoner and noble alike, bowed low in respect. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath. King Shadis stepped forward, calm and commanding. He lifted his arms, and the air responded. Beams of pure radiance arced from the tips of his fingers, spreading outward in sweeping golden strands that wove together into a dazzling lattice of light high above the arena. It danced in perfect harmony, spinning like a crown of stars before fading into a cascade of glittering motes that rained down over the crowd. And then, as if released from a collective trance, the silence broke, shattered by the roar of thousands. “Long live the King!” Their voices reverberated through the stands, echoing off the high walls in a thunderous chorus. A thrill rippled down Shunjiro’s spine. This was power he had only ever dreamed about, so absolute it made the world around them seem to hold its breath, if only for a moment. King Shadis stepped forward, his voice resonant and rich with authority. “Welcome, aspiring adventurers and warriors, to the entrance exams of the Kingdom of Radiance. Today, you will face challenges designed to test your strength, skill, and character. Only the best will earn their place among us.” As his words echoed through the colossal arena, Shunjiro felt his heart pound in his chest. He could sense the flutter of nerves in those around him, too, an undercurrent of excitement mixed with dread. Sunlight glinted off polished armor, and the tang of dust in the air filled his lungs as he steadied himself. “The exams will consist of three trials. Each will test a different aspect of your abilities.” “The first trial will measure the strength of your spiritual energy,” King Shadis said. “You will strike a specially designed dummy that absorbs and quantifies spiritual energy. It will rank you on a scale from F to SSS, serving as a baseline for your capabilities.” Shunjiro inhaled shakily. Spiritual energy? He chanced a glance at Itsuki, who offered him a reassuring smile and whispered, “You’ve got this.” “The second trial will test your combat skills,” the king continued. “You will engage in a one-versus-one battle. This is your chance to showcase your powers and tactical abilities.” “The third and final trial,” King Shadis said, his gaze sweeping the line of recruits, “will evaluate your teamwork. You will form teams of three and face off against another team. Victory will require coordination, strategy, and trust in your allies.” The words hovered in the hushed air, and Shunjiro’s pulse hammered. A team battle was both reassuring and daunting. At least I won’t be alone for that one. As the king concluded his speech, the tension in the arena became almost tangible, like static before a storm. Recruits buzzed with excitement, exchanging anxious whispers as the Gilded Blades stood watchful on a raised platform. Shunjiro could hardly tear his gaze away from them; their presence felt larger than life, as though they existed on an entirely different plane of skill. I’m going to stand up there one day, he thought, voice tight with determination. I’ll show everyone what I’m capable of. Takeshi… I’ll make you proud. A gentle tap on his shoulder pulled him from his thoughts. Itsuki was smiling at him, her eyes bright. “Ready, partner?” Shunjiro nodded, swallowing back the fear in his throat. “Ready,” he said, his voice steady despite the flutter in his stomach. The recruits were ushered toward the testing area for the first trial creating a line, waiting for their turn to step forward and strike the specialized dummy. It was an imposing device, glowing faintly with a spiritual core that absorbed and measured the force of spiritual energy. The crowd murmured with anticipation, eager to see who would rise to the top and who would crumble under the pressure. Shunjiro stood near the back of the line, his heart pounding. He shifted uneasily on his feet, watching as the first few recruits approached the dummy, delivered their strikes, and received their scores. Most landed somewhere in the middle of the scale, Cs and Ds were common, with a rare B sprinkled in. A few unlucky ones scored Fs, walking away with slumped shoulders and flushed faces. When Itsuki’s name was called, Shunjiro perked up, cheering her on quietly. She gave him a determined smile as she stepped forward, her bright eyes fixed on the dummy. “Let’s see what you’ve got,” one of the examiners said, motioning for her to begin. Itsuki took a deep breath, her small frame radiating resolve. She clenched her fists, channeling her spiritual energy. With a burst of movement, she struck the dummy with all her might. The impact echoed through the arena, and the dummy absorbed the energy before displaying a glowing letter: D. Itsuki exhaled slowly, her expression a mix of relief and disappointment. She turned to Shunjiro and gave him a thumbs-up.  “Not too bad, right?” she said, trying to stay optimistic.  Shunjiro grinned. “You did great!” Next up was Yoshinori Raikawa. A tall, composed figure who approached the dummy with a calm, measured stride. His neatly kept black hair barely moved in the breeze, and his piercing blue eyes remained fixed ahead, unreadable. Dressed in a simple adventurer’s outfit, practical, unadorned, and clean. He radiated quiet confidence, needing no flash or flair to command attention. He stood before the dummy for a moment, seemingly gathering his energy. “He looks serious,” Shunjiro whispered to Itsuki, who nodded. With a fluid motion, Yoshinori stepped forward and delivered a precise punch to the dummy. The strike wasn’t flashy, but the power behind it was undeniable. The dummy glowed for a moment before displaying an A. The crowd gasped, and whispers of admiration spread like wildfire. Yoshinori nodded subtly at the result and walked back to his spot, his expression unchanged. “Wow,” Shunjiro muttered. “I do not want to fight him.” Itsuki chuckled. “Smart choice.” When Sora Ayanami was called, the silver-haired recruit sauntered toward the dummy with an effortless swagger, his hands in his pockets and a cocky grin tugging at the corners of his lips. The crowd reacted instantly, some cheering, others groaning but none could deny the presence he carried. His black eyes, cool and unreadable, held a quiet sharpness beneath the bravado, hinting that beneath his smug exterior was a fighter who knew exactly what he was capable of. “This should be good,” Itsuki said, nudging Shunjiro. Sora raised his fist, his silver hair catching the light as he summoned his energy. With a quick, explosive motion, he punched the dummy. The impact was immediate, the dummy vibrating slightly before displaying another A. The crowd erupted into cheers, and Sora turned to face them with a grin, raising a hand as if acknowledging his victory. “Another A?!” Shunjiro groaned. “Yeah, I’m definitely avoiding him too.” “Smart,” Itsuki said with a laugh. “He’d probably love to rub it in if you lost.” Jayiden, a member of the beast race, was next. Though humanoid, he had canine features, including pointed ears and a tail that swayed behind him as he approached the dummy. His cocky grin revealed sharp teeth, and he exuded confidence as he cracked his knuckles. “Watch this,” Jayiden called out, his voice brimming with arrogance. “I’ll show you how it’s done.” He gathered his energy, his muscles tensing, and threw a powerful punch. The dummy absorbed the impact and displayed a glowing B. Jayiden frowned slightly, clearly dissatisfied, but he shrugged it off with a smirk. “Not bad, I guess. Better than most of you!” he called out, earning a few laughs and groans from the crowd. “He’s…a character,” Shunjiro muttered. Itsuki giggled. “He’s confident, I’ll give him that.” As the trial continued, the focus shifted almost entirely to Yoshinori and Sora. Conversations buzzed about their impressive A ranks, with most recruits speculating who might score higher in the next rounds. By the time Shunjiro’s name was called, few people were even paying attention. “Here we go,” Shunjiro muttered, taking a deep breath as he stepped forward. His heart felt like it might burst out of his chest, and his hands were clammy. They’re probably expecting an F or a D. Heck, I’m expecting it too. He approached the dummy, eyes flicking around briefly. He caught sight of some recruits chatting amongst themselves, not even looking his way. Their disinterest was almost worse than if they’d been openly mocking him, it confirmed what he already feared: No one believes in me…maybe I really don’t belong here. But I have to try. He clenched his fists, focusing on the small spark of spiritual energy he did know he had. Even if it’s weak, I’ll prove I’m at least worth noticing. Then, something unexpected happened. A surge of energy bubbled up from deep within him, stronger than anything he’d ever felt before. It was raw, untamed, and exhilarating, a fierce warmth that seemed to flood every corner of his being. In an instant, doubt warred with confusion inside his head. His vision sharpened, and the clamor of the arena dulled to a low hum. Every beat of his heart felt like thunder inside his chest. Just go with it, a voice inside him urged. See what you can do. Without overthinking, Shunjiro channeled that energy into his fist and struck the dummy with everything he had. For a moment, silence enveloped the arena as the dummy absorbed the hit. Shunjiro’s pulse hammered in his ears. I probably imagined that surge. There’s no way… Then, the dummy lit up brilliantly. A glowing letter appeared: S. The hush fractured as a wave of gasps and excited murmurs rippled through the stands. Conversations died mid-sentence; disinterested recruits snapped their heads toward Shunjiro, suddenly riveted. On the raised platform, King Shadis’s composed expression shifted almost imperceptibly as his brows inched upward. Shunjiro stared at the result, his mouth hanging open. This has to be some kind of mistake. His heart hammered. “No way,” he whispered, though he could barely hear his own voice over the noise. A storm of questions swirled in his mind: What does this mean? Am I really this strong? Did the dummy malfunction? Itsuki was the first to recover, rushing up to him and grabbing his shoulders. “Shunjiro! You did it! You scored an S!” she exclaimed, pride shining in her eyes. Shunjiro swallowed hard, trying to catch up with the reality of the situation. “I-I don’t even know how,” he managed, his words stumbling. In the crowd, Yoshinori and Sora exchanged glances, their interest in Shunjiro suddenly piqued. Jayiden crossed his arms, ears twitching in annoyance as he saw the spotlight shift from him. King Shadis raised a hand, silencing the crowd with regal composure. “Interesting,” he said, a note of intrigue coloring his voice. “It seems we have a dark horse among us.” Shunjiro’s cheeks burned as all eyes locked on him. He felt the weight of a thousand questions pressing in on his thoughts. What just happened? And what does it mean for the rest of the exams? He had no answers, only a thundering heart and the echo of that single, blazing letter: S