proving myself

Evander's fingers tightened around the hilt of the feathered pen. This wasn't just an exam; it was a barrier between him and the knowledge that could alter the future. If he failed, the blood of his comrades would still stain the battlefield—a fate he couldn't allow to repeat.

As he stepped into the academy's grand hall, the towering arches loomed above, casting elongated shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly. The air buzzed faintly with residual magic, a constant reminder of the power that filled this place. Students shuffled to find their seats, murmuring among themselves in hushed tones.

At the front of the room stood the Instructor, a tall man with an aura of authority, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd like a hawk. His hand rested on his chin, as though deep in thought—or silent judgment.

"All of you, take a seat," the Instructor commanded, his voice sharp and unwavering. The whispers died instantly. "Listen carefully. Since all of you are first year, the test will be easier. But not easy." His eyes glinted, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "The orb doesn't lie. It will strip away every excuse and reveal the truth of your ability—or lack thereof. If you wish to pass, you will demonstrate mastery—precision, power, and adaptability. Only those who meet these standards will proceed."

Evander slipped into a seat near the back, his heart pounding against his ribs. Mastery? He had trained relentlessly, but this was the first time his skills would be judged under such scrutiny. His magic wasn't just a tool; it was his weapon, his shield, and his only hope of rewriting the past. If I fail here... everything will be for nothing.

At the center of the hall stood a large orb on an ornate pedestal, its surface swirling with an iridescent glow that seemed alive. The Instructor gestured toward it. "You will each step forward and channel your magic into the artifact. It will test your control and measure your power. The results will speak for themselves."

A murmur rippled through the room. Evander's jaw tightened as doubts gnawed at him. How can I succeed when I'm not whole?

Then, a thought crossed his mind. When I first gained my power, I was in contact with a healer... His gaze flicked to the artifact, its glow reflecting in his narrowed eyes. If I can manipulate the artifact's energy and draw it into my body, I might regain a fragment of my strength—just enough to tilt the scales.

The idea was reckless. Dangerous, even. The artifact wasn't meant to be tapped for energy; it was designed to measure, not give. But it was a risk he had to take. His power had diminished since regressing, and every scrap of strength mattered.

The first student rose and approached the orb, and the room fell into a heavy silence. Evander's breath caught. The boy's features were sharp, his movements confident—too confident. Then it hit him.

The scar faintly traced his jawline, the fiery determination in his eyes. No... it's not just a resemblance. It's him.

Evander's stomach churned. He had fought beside this man in the future and had seen him stand tall on the battlefield as one of the Five Heroes. And now, here he was—a first-year student, completely unaware of the destiny that awaited him.

The boy raised his hand to the orb. Magic surged through the room as the artifact responded instantly, its glow intensifying into a dazzling display. The power flowed effortlessly, as though the orb recognized him. Gasps echoed among the students, followed by hushed whispers.

Evander's heart sank. How can I possibly match that? His grip on the desk tightened, his knuckles turning white. There's no way. I'll never measure up to him.

The Instructor's stern gaze flicked briefly to the boy, his expression unreadable. "Well done. Next."

Evander clenched his jaw. Aim for the bare minimum, he told himself, the thought bitter. Just enough to pass. Just enough to survive.

But even as he tried to suppress his ambition, a spark of defiance flared within him. He wasn't here to scrape by. He wasn't here to cower in the shadow of the heroes he once called comrades. He was here to change the future. His comrades' faces flashed in his mind—bloodied, broken, yet trusting him with their last breaths.

The next name was called, and another student stepped forward. Evander forced himself to watch, his mind working furiously. He studied the orb's reaction, the way it pulsed with each spell, the way it seemed to adapt to each caster.

The Instructor said the orb tests adaptability, he thought, eyes narrowing as a plan began to take shape. If that's true, then let's see if it can keep up with me. Let's see if it can adapt to me.