By 8 o'clock sharp, every trainee had assembled in the grand training hall. Not a single person dared to be absent. Even Jalel Arvey and his notorious group of 49 other defiant rebels—who just yesterday had mocked the rules—were now squeaky clean, well-dressed, and standing as though their spines had been replaced with broomsticks.
Their time in the dungeon had stripped them of pride, and probably a few brain cells too.
Their unruly swagger was gone, replaced by something that smelled like lavender soap… and trauma. No one knew exactly what had gone on in that dungeon, but judging by the twitch in Jalel's left eye and how he winced every time someone raised their voice, they would never be the same again.
Lesson learned: Don't ever test Archmage Amber Nois, she is crazy.
And, regardless of whatever could have happened down there, one thing was certain—they were now model citizens, eyes straight, mouths shut, and souls humbled. They would never cross Archmage Amber Nois again.
Lined up with the remaining 150, they looked indistinguishable—until you looked at their faces. Trauma had a very specific shade of fear.
But the true spectacle wasn't them.
All eyes, every single one, were drawn to the front—to him.
The Scarlet Raven.
Standing beside Archmage Amber Nois, he looked like a storm stuffed into a uniform.
His magic, now unsealed, flowed quietly around him like mist clinging to a blade. Yet he stood obedient, silent, like a soldier under orders, arms folded behind his back and magic pulsing around him like a restrained tempest.
His crimson cloak whispered with each slight movement. His eyes, half-lidded, held the same feral glint known across the empire. The very sight unsettled many—including Priestess Kendra, who stood among the trainees.
She couldn't help but stare. How? How did The great Archmage Amber Nois do this? How did she tame the Scarlet Raven—an infamous terror whose name made nobles tremble—and turn him into a calm, quiet... student?
She shook her head. It was like watching a wolf purring on command. She had turned a wolf into a lap dog.
At the back of the hall, a quiet murmur rippled between Innik, Rex, Jones, and Addey.
Innik leaned over, whispering, "What do ya know... Cole was actually right. The beast was really within these walls."
Rex gave a long nod. "The man. The myth. The walking catastrophe…"
Jones narrowed his eyes. "Are you admiring a guy who once levelled a city with a flick of his wrist?"
Rex shrugged. "Hey, hate the crimes, love the man."
"And here I thought I needed help," Jones muttered.
Meanwhile, Addey, who was busy checking if his boots were properly laced, muttered without lifting his head, "Speaking of Cole… where is he?"
They turned in search of Cole—and there he was.
Cole, no longer the clueless goofball who asked dumb questions at bath-time, now stood shoulder to shoulder with Wuza Selone. Their heads leaned slightly toward one another. He whispered something that made her chuckle quietly—a rare sound that seemed to startle even herself.
"Oh dear," Innik sighed. "Seems like my boy has found love."
"More like love found the only idiot brave enough to get his head bashed in for it," Jones replied.
Rex smirked. "Love is blind… and apparently, has a concussion."
Jones rolled his eyes. "true, Love is blind. And apparently deaf to warnings."
"Be happy for Cole," Addey muttered, arms folded as he eyed the scene across the training hall. "If a walking disaster like him can stumble into romance, then maybe—just maybe—there's still hope for the rest of us."
He sighed, leaning against the wall. "Besides, wishing others well might bring us some luck too. And let's be honest—Cole doesn't even know how to be afraid. I swear, that man could charge into a dragon's mouth and ask for directions."
Rex scoffed. "Tch. Bro, have you ever been heartbroken before?"
Addey raised an eyebrow. "Nope."
"Exactly," Rex jabbed a thumb at his chest. "That crap burns. Like soul-level food poisoning. I avoid love like it's a cursed artifact. Won't touch it with a ten-foot pole—and I once picked up a screaming skull with my bare hands."
Innik snorted behind them. "So what you're saying is, you'd rather fight a banshee than risk a crush?"
"Hell yes," Rex said without hesitation. "A banshee kills you once. Love? It kills you slowly, then replays the death every night like it's a stage show."
Addey chuckled. "Maybe that's your problem—you dated a banshee and thought it was love."
The group burst into muffled laughter, earning them a brief glare from Uriel Commes that shut them up like lightning.
"…Yeah, never mind," Rex whispered, straightening. "Death by love is one thing. Death by Raven is another."
After a pause, Jones leaned closer. "Oh forget about Cole, he'll learn. Love's like magic—it either saves you, or explodes in your face."
"Guys," Addey said sharply, glancing over his shoulder, "I'm warning you—stop murmuring. I don't want to end up like the Dungeon 50. You saw Jalel—he flinched when a spoon hit the floor this morning. I think something broke in him. Something deep."
A loud clap echoed across the hall. The murmuring stopped instantly.
Archmage Amber Nois stood like a monument of magic and discipline, her robes swaying with silent authority. Every eye in the room fixed on her, the air around her practically humming with raw, ancient power.
And the Scarlet Raven, whose human name was Uriel Commes, stood a step behind her to her right, still and unreadable.
The training was about to begin.
And something in the air told them this was no ordinary morning.
""For the first part of the training," Archmage Amber Nois began, her voice rippling through the hall like a quiet but commanding storm, "I will teach you how to feel mana."
The room fell utterly silent—not out of fear, but reverence.
"Mana is the key to becoming a powerful mage," she continued. "Your success will depend on your body's ability to hold mana… and more importantly, on your capacity to control it… and unleash it through spells."
As she raised her hand slowly, all eyes were drawn to her fingers. A soft white mist began to coil upward like silk unraveling from a divine spindle. It danced at her fingertips, obedient to her will—then, almost with a breath, it shaped into a delicate bird mid-flight. Its wings flapped once—graceful, fluid, alive.
Gasps rose from the trainees.
But before they could even process it, the bird morphed into a bat, gliding in an arc over her shoulder, before disintegrating into shimmering dust, disappearing like sand carried by wind through a crack in time.
Not a single spell incantation spoken. Not even a blink from the Archmage.
"A good mage," she said, her voice a little softer now, "is not the one who can burn down a city… but the one who can take a mere wisp of power—a grain of magic—and do with it what others could only dream of."
The room was thick with awe now. Even Jalel Arvey's and his crew now watched with genuine admiration.
Amber Nois stepped forward.
"Now," she said. "Clear your minds."
Her eyes slowly scanned the room.
"Reach not with your hands, but with your heart. Mana is not a liquid to be grabbed—it is a language to be understood. It exists in every corner of this room. Feel it. Invite it."
Some trainees closed their eyes immediately, sitting cross-legged. Others shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to begin. But even the doubters could feel it—the tingle in the air, the subtle charge, like a silent storm cloud overhead waiting to break.
"The moment you can feel it and shape it… even in the smallest ripple… you will be eligible for the next stage of your training."
She paused.
"For now, I leave you in the hands of Uriel Commes."
The name dropped like thunder, even though she spoke it softly.
All eyes turned to the Scarlet Raven, still standing like a dark pillar beside her, his presence as fierce as it was calm. He gave a quiet nod, stepping forward with the weight of one who had killed armies and outlived legends.
Amber Nois gave one final nod to Uriel and then, with a motion barely perceptible, she vanished in a slow fade—like fog curling back into the earth.
The room was still.
And Uriel Commes turned his eyes to them—those deep, unreadable eyes that had once terrified the Empire.
"Begin," he said.
And so they began.