The next morning, Nova and Elesch stumbled into the guild at 9:05 A.M., five minutes past the appointed hour. They had overslept, their alarms set for eight but ignored until nine, leaving them no time to brush their teeth, shower, or even relieve themselves. Their clothes were rumpled, hair tangled, and the faint sourness of unwashed skin clung to them as they hurried through the guild's towering entrance, its iron-wrought doors etched with runes that pulsed faintly in the morning light.
Adam, by contrast, had arrived five minutes early, his posture rigid with the quiet resolve to avoid trouble. He knew Marcus's wrath for tardiness was a storm to be feared, a bellow that could rattle the windows of Chicago's skyline, its gleaming towers standing sentinel beyond the guild's walls. Nova had borne the brunt of such outbursts before, and Adam had no desire to draw that same fire.
Marcus and Adam lingered just inside the entrance, the air thick with the scent of polished stone and the faint ozone of latent magic. Marcus's temple throbbed, veins stark against his skin, his anger a smoldering coal as the seconds ticked by. It was 9:01 A.M., three minutes and forty seconds until Nova and Elesch would deign to appear.
Adam stood behind him, his gaze drifting upward, lost in the intricate patterns adorning the ceiling, swirling mosaics of gold and azure, reminiscent of biblical tapestries, their lines weaving tales of divine struggle. Yet he remained alert, his senses tethered to the world, ready to snap back at a moment's notice.
Marcus muttered under his breath, his voice a low growl. "Why do I keep calling him the 'Chosen Child'?" The words gnawed at him, each syllable a thorn in his pride. "I'm spoiling that brat to his core." He clenched his fists, the heat of his frustration spiking his blood pressure. "Why do I let this little punk get me so worked up?" He turned to Adam, who was still entranced by the ceiling's artistry, and softened his tone, reining in his temper. "You like the patterns?"
Adam's eyes flicked from the ceiling to Marcus, hesitating for a heartbeat before answering. "W-well, I'm Christian, so they… they help me relax." He reached beneath his T-shirt, pulling out a small silver necklace, its cross pendant catching the light. "My mom gave this to me, before she… left. It keeps her close, helps me face whatever comes."
Marcus's gaze lingered on the necklace, the hard lines of his face easing. He nodded, a faint smile breaking through. "That's something worth holding onto, kid. Family's the anchor in this mess of a world." He clapped Adam's shoulder, the gesture firm but warm. "Bet your mom is proud, seeing you stand tall after everything. Just don't go staring at ceilings when there's work to do, yeah?"
Adam chuckled, a nervous edge to it, but his shoulders relaxed. "Yeah, I'll try. It's just… this place feels alive, you know? Like it's watching us."
"Watching, judging, and probably laughing," Marcus quipped, his grin widening. "This guild's seen more drama than a Chicago street brawl. Stick with me, and I'll show you how to keep it in line." He leaned closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "And between you and me, if Nova pulls that 'Chosen Child' nonsense again, I'm dunking him in the training pit myself. You in?"
Adam's lips twitched, a spark of mischief in his eyes. "Only if I get to record it."
Marcus's laugh erupted, a booming roar that ricocheted off the stone walls, reverberating through the guild's cavernous hall. The sound rippled across the gathered crowd, adventurers and staff alike pausing to gape at the rare warmth in Marcus's exchange with Adam. Their murmurs of awe hung in the air, tinged with the faint scent of sweat and polished steel.
Noticing the attention, Marcus's excitement flared, his voice thundering like a war drum. "Back to your stations, people! We've got work to do!"
The guild snapped into motion, a flurry of controlled chaos. Adventurers scattered, some drifting to their brief respite, others bolting toward low-level dungeons, their boots scuffing the flagstones. Staff members hurried to their offices on higher floors, papers rustling, their temples glistening with nervous sweat. Marcus's laughter swelled, a deep, rolling bellow, as if their panic fueled his amusement.
At precisely 9:05 A.M., Nova and Elesch burst through the entrance, breathless, their disheveled appearances betraying their rushed morning. Elesch's cheeks flushed as her eyes caught Adam's, a fleeting spark of something soft before she ducked behind Nova, her posture shrinking like a wary sibling seeking shelter.
Nova, oblivious to her reaction, strode forward, as did Adam, neither noticing the subtle dance of glances. Marcus, his irritation reignited, muttered under his breath: "Kids."
As Nova neared, Marcus's fist clenched, veins bulging, and with a swift, deliberate motion, he struck Nova with a force that cracked the air. The blow sent Nova sprawling, the stone floor splintering beneath him, a single tooth skittering across the ground. Freya's unseen presence stirred, her magic knitting the tooth back into place, a faint shimmer in the air. Marcus grinned, the tension draining from his shoulders, his stress purged in that single act.
Nova's face, momentarily distorted—cartoonish, almost squishy—twisted as he shook it left and right, his features snapping back to their sharp, familiar lines. He glared up at Marcus, eyes blazing.
"You finally showed up, huh, you little shit," Marcus said, turning to Adam with a nod, striding forward as if nothing had happened. Adam fell into step behind him, suppressing a smirk.
Man, what the fuck is wrong with that guy? Nova thought, hauling himself to his feet, brushing dust from his clothes. He caught up to Elesch, who hovered close, and the two trailed Adam.
Leaning toward Adam, Nova whispered, as if confiding in a lifelong friend: "I swear, this guy," he jabbed a thumb at Marcus's broad back, "is gonna be the end of me. Like, I might actually die one of these days from his fists."
Adam stifled a giggle, his shoulders shaking. Marcus's head whipped around, his neck twisting at an unnatural angle, defying anatomy itself. His glare, a cold, predatory thing, bored into Nova and Adam, its intensity enough to send shivers through even the most hardened horror icon. The air grew heavy, the guild's ambient hum fading under the weight of his stare.
"Anyways," Marcus said, straightening, his tone shifting to brusque efficiency as he faced forward again. "The reason I called you all so early is this: the entrance exams for Obsidian Academy start September 22 and end September 26. It's a four-day gauntlet, each day a different trial, each more grueling than the last. Starting now, early September, until the 21st, I need you fully prepared. You should be halfway through F-rank, maybe even hitting E-rank by then, to stand a chance among those qualified by rank alone. As guild-sponsored candidates, you'll be under scrutiny from the start. Don't fuck it up. Got it?"
The trio nodded, the gravity of Marcus's words settling over them like a storm cloud, heavy with the promise of trials that could either forge their destinies or shatter their resolve.
Marcus led them toward a door tucked in a shadowed corner, its surface a slab of blackened oak, worn and unyielding, as if it guarded secrets plucked from a horror film. The air around it grew colder, a faint, ominous draft seeping through the cracks, carrying the scent of damp stone and forgotten iron. The door creaked as Marcus pushed it open, revealing a steep staircase descending into darkness, each step swallowed by an inky void that seemed to whisper of unseen dangers.
The squad followed, Elesch trailing last, her hand lingering on the door as she pulled it shut behind her, the heavy thud echoing like a coffin lid. The darkness enveloped them, thick and suffocating, until Marcus flicked a switch. Light flooded the basement, harsh and unsparing, revealing a vast subterranean chamber that stretched far beyond the guild's upper floors. The trio's breath caught as they took in the sprawling expanse before them.
The training arena was colossal, its its boundaries lost in the haze of distance, the floor a a mosaic of polished obsidian tiles that gleamed under the arcane glow of floating orbs. Massive pillars, etched with runes that pulsed faintly with crimson light, loomed like silent sentinels, supporting a vaulted ceiling adorned with intricate carvings of mythical beasts locked in eternal combat. The air thrummed with latent energy, tinged with the sharp tang of ozone and the faint musk of leather from scattered training gear.
At the arena's heart stood advanced holographic emitters, their sleek, metallic forms humming softly. Unlike the rudimentary simulators on the upper floors, these devices conjured monster holograms with uncanny precision: beasts that moved with lifelike ferocity, their claws glinting, their roars reverberating through the chamber. These simulations, Marcus explained, were designed to mimic real combat with unparalleled accuracy, adapting to the user's skill level to hone reflexes, strategy, and endurance. Sparring dummies lined one wall, their surfaces scarred from countless strikes, while racks of enchanted weapons, swords, axes, and staves glowing with faint enchantments, stood ready for practice. A section of the floor was marked with shifting runes, creating dynamic obstacle courses that could reconfigure in seconds to test agility and cunning.
Beyond the combat zone, a quiet alcove housed a meditation chamber, its walls draped in soft, indigo tapestries embroidered with silver sigils that promoted calm and focus. Cushioned mats lined the floor, their surfaces worn but inviting, and a faint scent of lavender and sage lingered, a stark contrast to the arena's intensity. Nearby, a tactical board glowed with holographic maps, allowing trainees to study monster behaviors and battle formations, while a recovery station stocked with healing salves and mana-infused elixirs ensured rapid recuperation between grueling sessions. Every feature was meticulously designed to prepare the trio for the Obsidian Academy's merciless entrance exam.
Nova's eyes widened, his usual bravado momentarily eclipsed by awe. "When the hell was this built?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.
Adam and Elesch stood closer together, their shoulders brushing, oblivious to the subtle warmth in their proximity. Their gazes roamed the chamber, captivated by its grandeur. The walls, beyond the training gear, were adorned with vibrant murals depicting legendary guild battles, their colors vivid despite the passage of time, and crystal sconces cast prismatic light that danced across the floor like fleeting spirits.
Marcus chuckled, the sound softer now, as he leaned against a pillar. "This place has been here longer than you've been alive, kid. Built back when the guild was founded, hidden to keep the riffraff out. Only those headed for the big leagues, like you lot, if you don't screw it up, get to train here." He pushed off the pillar, his expression shifting to one of purpose. "Your first day of training starts now, but don't expect to swing swords or summon spells just yet. Today's all about meditation. You need to master your minds before your blades."
He beckoned them toward the meditation alcove, its tranquil air a stark contrast to the arena's latent violence. The tapestries seemed to shimmer as they entered, the sigils glowing faintly, coaxing their breathing to slow. Marcus gestured to the mats.
"Sit. Clear your heads. The academy's trials will test your focus as much as your strength. You'll spend today learning to silence the noise, your doubts, your fears, even that loudmouth ego of yours, Nova." He shot Nova a pointed look, though a faint grin tugged at his lips.
The trio settled onto the mats, the cushions yielding beneath them, the faint hum of the sigils lulling their senses. The basement's vastness faded into the background, the promise of its trials lingering like a distant storm, as they prepared to face the first step of their journey inward.