The Sourit Test

"WELCOME, STUDENTS OF SOURIT ACADEMY!"

The voice rang across the vast training field, silencing the murmurs of the gathered students. At the center stood an elderly man, wisdom gleaming in his eyes. His long robes, embroidered with intricate golden patterns, swayed gently as he lifted a hand to quiet the crowd.

"Today is a historic day," he declared, his voice steady and commanding. "It marks the anniversary of Sourit's first appearance—the day our world changed forever. It is also the day this academy took its first step toward greatness. And today, my dear future students, you will undergo the Sourit Test."

A soft murmur rippled through the students as Master Orlin gestured toward the large, shimmering sphere beside him. Resting atop an ornate pedestal, it pulsed faintly, as if alive.

"This sphere will measure your Sourit level the moment you place your hand upon it," he explained. "The result will determine your potential and your path forward in this academy."

The students leaned in, anticipation thick in the air.

"I'll keep it simple," Master Orlin continued. He raised a single finger.

"Red—the lowest of all. Those who receive this result have little hope of mastering Sourit and typically live normal lives. However," he added with a knowing smile, "at this esteemed academy, even a Red can be trained up to a Green."

Some students let out relieved sighs, while others fidgeted nervously.

He lifted a second finger. "Green. This level allows one to grasp the basics of Sourit, though not much beyond. Many who attain this level go on to become scribes, merchants, or city defenders."

A third finger. "Then, we have Purple. This is rare. Children born with this power are recognized early and trained to become warriors or Sourit masters. Many of the very teachers at this academy possess Purple-level Sourit."

His fourth finger extended. "White—this level belongs to the masters. Those who dedicate their entire lives to Sourit can reach it. A true White-level user can perform feats beyond imagination—some say they can even stop time itself, though such power requires multiple White masters working in unison."

A hush fell over the students, their expressions a mix of awe and disbelief.

And then, with a dramatic pause, he lifted his thumb.

"And finally… there is Black."

The moment the word Black left Master Orlin's lips, Kenos felt a faint, stinging warmth in his chest—like a tiny ember had flared to life and vanished just as quickly. He instinctively placed a hand over his heart. What was that…?

But the sensation was gone in an instant.

The students held their breath as Master Orlin continued.

"Black is a power beyond reason. A level so rare, it is thought to be a myth. It is said that those who reach Black are never the same again… as if they have sold their very souls."

A few students exchanged nervous glances, while others chuckled uneasily.

Master Orlin let out a hearty laugh. "But don't worry! No one has ever achieved such a thing. At least… not yet."

Then, clapping his hands together, he straightened. "Now then! I will call your names one by one. When I do, step forward and place your hand upon the sphere."

He unrolled a scroll and began reading.

One by one, the students stepped forward. Hands touched the sphere, and results flashed in glowing letters above it:

[GREEN] [RED] [GREEN] [GREEN]

Again and again, only green and red appeared. Some students beamed with excitement, others slumped back to their seats in disappointment.

Then—

"Atrom Dynami!"

Atrom stiffened. His stomach knotted. He had spent the past few hours convincing himself he'd get Red. Maybe Green if I'm lucky. Taking a deep breath, he forced his legs to move, each step toward the sphere heavier than the last.

He reached out and placed his hand on the cool surface.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then—the sphere flickered red.

His heart sank. Of course…

But just as he accepted his fate, the red hue wavered—then darkened into a deep, rich purple.

[PURPLE]

Gasps filled the field.

Atrom's mind went blank. Purple?

Master Orlin's eyebrows lifted in surprise before curling into a pleased smile. "A Purple," he murmured. He swiftly marked it down on his scroll.

As Atrom turned back, whispers followed him. Stares of disbelief. A mixture of admiration and envy.

Even he couldn't believe it.

He barely noticed himself sitting back down. Kenos leaned over with a smirk. "A Purple, huh? Didn't know you were this talented. How come you never knew?"

"I… I have no idea," Atrom admitted. He still felt like he was dreaming.

Then—

"K-Kenos…"

Master Orlin hesitated. A frown crossed his face as he glanced at his assistant. "Is there something missing? It just says Kenos here."

The assistant whispered something in his ear.

Master Orlin's eyes widened. "WHAT?! That's his uncle?!"

Kenos frowned. He had caught the whispering, but not enough to understand. "Should I go up?" he asked Atrom.

"Yeah… but what's with them?"

The air felt heavier now.

Master Orlin cleared his throat. "KENOS! Ehem… just Kenos."

Kenos stood up awkwardly, walking toward the sphere. He placed his hand on it… and waited.

Nothing.

A tense silence stretched across the field. Just as Kenos was about to glance at the old man in confusion—

Light.

Blinding, pure white light engulfed the field. The walls, the ceiling, the students—everything vanished into an empty white void.

Kenos was no longer standing in a grand field, but in a realm of nothingness.

And before him, resting beneath his palm…

A black sphere.

Master Orlin's breath caught. No… it can't be…

For a single, unbearable moment, the world stood still.

Then—

In the blink of an eye, everything snapped back to normal. The grand field, the students, the sphere—everything reappeared exactly as it was. Kenos stood in place, his hand resting on—

[RED]

Silence.

Master Orlin stared at the sphere, his hand trembling slightly. Did I imagine that?

He glanced around. No one else reacted. Even Kenos looked indifferent, unaware of what had just transpired.

After a moment, Master Orlin shook his head and hesitantly wrote down "RED" beside Kenos' name.

"ALRIGHT!" He clapped his hands, regaining his composure. "Based on your levels, you will now be assigned to a room and a coach. Each coach wears robes matching your Sourit color. Find them and follow their instructions. I wish you all luck—I'll see you at graduation!"

With that, Master Orlin turned and disappeared the way he came.

Kenos and Atrom exchanged a glance.

"I guess this is where we split up, huh?" Atrom said, forcing a chuckle.

"Yeah. But don't think I'll fall behind." Kenos smirked, cracking his knuckles. "I'll surpass that Purple of yours—you'll see."

They clasped hands in a firm shake.

"Ha! Don't get too cocky," Atrom laughed.

With that, they parted ways, each heading toward their respective coaches.

Neither of them knew what lay ahead, but one thing was certain—only one could be the strongest.