Chapter 12: The Labyrinth Beckons

The morning bell echoed through the academy grounds, but Orin was already awake. He stood in the courtyard outside the dorms, katana in hand, his breath visible in the crisp air. The sparring match with Reynard replayed in his mind, each movement a vivid reminder of how far behind he was.

The artifact in his chest pulsed faintly, a subtle warmth spreading through his body. It wasn't painful, but it was constant—a reminder of the power he'd yet to understand.

"Control your energy. Let it guide you," Reynard's voice echoed in his thoughts.

Orin gritted his teeth and raised his blade. The phrase had sounded so simple coming from the academy's golden hero, but in practice, it felt anything but.

Orin swung his katana, his movements deliberate but tense. He stepped forward, activating Spirit Step. For a moment, the world blurred, and he reappeared a few feet ahead. His blade cut cleanly through the air, but his landing was shaky.

"Still sloppy," he muttered, resetting his stance.

The artifact pulsed again, more insistent this time, as if urging him to push harder. Orin exhaled sharply, sweat dripping from his brow.

"Fine," he whispered. "Let's try again."

---

By mid-morning, the students of Class A gathered in the lecture hall. The room buzzed with quiet chatter, but the tension in the air was unmistakable. Orin sat near the back, Finn beside him, while Reynard and his companions occupied their usual seats near the front.

Instructor Garran stood at the podium, his sharp eyes scanning the room. He cleared his throat, and the murmurs died instantly.

"Listen up," Garran said, his voice gravelly. "The academy's first major trial of the year begins tomorrow. This is not a test of individual skill—it's a team challenge. Success depends on your ability to work together."

Orin frowned. A team challenge? He could already feel the weight of disappointment settling in.

"The trial will take place in the Shadowed Labyrinth, a dungeon designed to test your endurance, combat prowess, and strategic thinking," Garran continued. "You'll face traps, puzzles, and monsters. Only those who work as a team will make it through."

Finn leaned closer to Orin. "Sounds like a nightmare."

"It gets worse," Orin muttered.

"As always," Garran said, "you'll be assigned groups based on your strengths, weaknesses, and compatibility."

The mention of "assigned groups" drew a few groans from the students, especially those used to choosing their own teammates.

"Your team assignments have been posted outside the hall," Garran said, gesturing to the doors. "You'll have the rest of today to prepare. Dismissed."

---

The hallway outside the lecture hall was crowded with students jostling to see the posted lists. Orin hung back, waiting for the crowd to thin before approaching.

When he finally reached the board, his name was near the bottom:

Team 8: Orin Lumis, Finn, Cassandra Aelmire, Kael Torrin, Mira Vaen.

Orin's heart sank. He recognized Finn, of course, but the others were unfamiliar names—except for one.

"Cassandra," he muttered under his breath.

As if summoned, Cassandra appeared at his side, her green eyes scanning the list. She smirked. "Looks like we'll be working together, Orin."

"Lucky me," Orin said dryly.

Cassandra's smile widened. "Don't sound so enthusiastic. I can promise you this much—it won't be boring."

Finn approached, groaning loudly as he read the list. "Great. Just great. We're stuck with the leftovers."

"Leftovers?" Cassandra arched an eyebrow. "I prefer to think of us as... unconventional."

"That's one way to put it," Finn muttered.

As the students dispersed, Orin headed for the training grounds, hoping to clear his head. But he didn't get far before a shadow fell across his path.

"Lumis," a low voice said.

Orin turned to see Theron Blackmoor, his dark robes flowing like smoke as he approached. His piercing green eyes seemed to gleam with quiet amusement.

"What do you want?" Orin asked, wary.

Theron tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "I thought I'd offer a word of advice."

Orin folded his arms. "And what's the catch?"

Theron chuckled softly. "No catch. Consider it... a courtesy. The Shadowed Labyrinth isn't just a test. It's a graveyard for the careless. You should watch your back."

"Why do you care?"

"I don't," Theron said, his voice low and smooth. "But it would be a shame to see someone with your... potential snuffed out before they've had a chance to shine."

Orin frowned. "You don't know anything about me."

"Don't I?" Theron's smirk deepened. "You're more interesting than you think, Lumis. Keep that in mind."

Before Orin could respond, Theron turned and walked away, leaving Orin with a sinking feeling in his chest.

---

Later that afternoon, Orin found himself in the academy library, poring over a dusty tome about dungeon strategy. The pages were filled with diagrams and notes on how to navigate traps and coordinate with a team—concepts that felt frustratingly out of reach.

"Studying already?" Cassandra's voice broke the silence.

Orin looked up to see her standing across the table, a faint smirk on her lips.

"I figured someone should," he said, closing the book. "What do you want?"

"To talk," she said, sitting down uninvited. "About the trial."

"What about it?"

Cassandra leaned forward, her green eyes gleaming. "Let's be honest, Orin. Our group isn't exactly stacked with powerhouses. If we're going to survive, we need a plan."

"I'm listening," Orin said cautiously.

"I know how to handle traps," Cassandra said, her tone confident. "And I'm good at reading people. If you can handle the combat, I'll take care of the strategy."

"And what about the others?" Orin asked.

Cassandra shrugged. "Finn's resourceful, but the other two? Dead weight. We'll carry them if we have to."

Orin frowned. "That doesn't sound like much of a plan."

"It's better than going in blind," Cassandra said. "Look, you don't have to like me, but you know I'm right. If we want to get through this, we'll have to trust each other."

Orin hesitated. Cassandra's words made sense, but he couldn't shake the feeling that she had ulterior motives.

"Fine," he said finally. "But I'm keeping my eye on you."

Cassandra smiled. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

---

That evening, Orin returned to the training grounds, determined to sharpen his skills before the trial. He practiced activating Spirit Step, focusing on refining his movements and controlling the artifact's energy.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Orin's exhaustion finally caught up with him. He sat on the grass, his katana resting across his knees.

The artifact pulsed again, stronger this time. Orin closed his eyes, trying to focus on the sensation. It wasn't just energy—it was alive, in its own way.

"What are you?" he murmured.

The artifact didn't answer, but its warmth spread through his chest, steady and unyielding.

Orin exhaled slowly. Whatever lay ahead in the labyrinth, he would face it head-on.

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