Chapter45 – Shadows in the Academy

The Academy was unlike anything Ethan had ever imagined.

It was a world in itself—a vast, towering structure built atop an ancient foundation of power. Within its walls, warriors, mages, and cultivators from different lands trained, each with their own path to strength. Some relied on weapons, others on the arcane, and some—like Ethan—sought to master a force that went beyond simple classification.

It had only been a day, yet the air already felt suffocating. Everyone here was strong.

And yet, he would become stronger.

Late that night, Ethan sat cross-legged on his bed, his mind replaying the day's events. The resonance test. The way the stone cracked beneath his touch. The way Master Ithran had looked at him—not with admiration, but calculation.

His ability was evolving.

Resonance wasn't just about weapons.

It was about attuning to power itself.

He had felt it during the test—the faint pull of the stone's energy. It wasn't just reacting to him; it was responding, bending to his will. And today, for the first time, he had directed it.

If he could do that with an object, could he do it with a person? With a technique?

His mind raced with possibilities.

Across the room, Ronan was staring at the ceiling, lost in his own thoughts.

"You thinking about the test?" Ethan asked.

Ronan turned his head slightly. "No. I'm thinking about how we're supposed to survive here."

Ethan smirked. "By getting stronger."

Ronan let out a short laugh. "Yeah. Easy for you to say." He turned fully now, facing Ethan. "You know, you're lucky. You have something unique. Something people don't understand yet. That's dangerous, but it's also an advantage."

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "And you? Your trait is strong."

Ronan clenched his fist. "It is. But strength alone won't cut it here. I need to refine it. Sharpen it. Otherwise, I'm just another brute swinging blindly."

There was a pause. Then Ronan sighed.

"…Still, I'm glad we're here together."

Ethan nodded. "Yeah."

For all the weight on their shoulders, neither of them had to carry it alone.

The next morning, the Academy's bells rang louder than before.

The first true trial had arrived.

All new students were gathered at the Grand Arena—a circular coliseum with massive stone pillars, inscribed with ancient symbols that radiated power.

A figure stood at the center, arms crossed. His presence alone silenced the murmuring crowd.

It was Master Ithran.

"Today," he began, his voice carrying across the entire arena, "you will prove whether you deserve to stand here."

Silence.

"This is the Dawn's Test. A simple challenge. One rule."

He raised a single finger.

"Survive."

Before anyone could react, the ground trembled.

A deep rumble echoed through the arena as stone golems—massive constructs of jagged rock—began to rise from the ground. Their eyes glowed with an eerie blue light, and as soon as they fully formed—

They attacked.

Ethan barely had time to react before a massive fist came crashing toward him. He dodged, feeling the force of the blow shake the ground behind him.

All around him, students were scrambling—some fighting back, others barely holding their own.

"These things are tough," Ronan muttered, rolling his shoulders. "Guess we have to break them."

Ethan didn't respond immediately.

Instead, he reached out.

Not with his hands. With his resonance.

He had felt it before—the subtle pulse of energy in objects, in weapons. But this time, he wasn't touching anything.

He was feeling. Connecting.

The golem before him lifted its arm again, its movement slow but unrelenting. Ethan closed his eyes for a brief moment, then—

He pulled.

The resonance flickered.

For a split second, the golem hesitated.

Ronan's eyes widened. "Did you just—"

Ethan didn't have time to answer. The hesitation was minor, but it was there. It was possible.

His heart pounded.

This was it. The next step.

Not just resonating with weapons. Not just with objects.

With power itself.

Ronan grinned. "Alright, then. Let's make some noise."

And together, they charged forward.

--

Unbeknownst to them, high above the arena, in the shadows of the observation deck, a figure watched the battle unfold.

A man with a scar over his eye, dressed in deep crimson robes.

His lips curled into a smirk.

"So, this is what Veyrn left behind."

He turned slightly as another presence approached.

"They're not bad," the newcomer said. "But they're not ready."

The scarred man chuckled. "No. Not yet. But that's what makes it fun."

His gaze locked onto Ethan.

"Let's see how far you'll go."