chapter 5: Echoes of Power

The golden light of dawn spilled across the vast training grounds of Ashvattha Vidya Mandala like liquid fire. The sun had barely risen above the World Tree's enormous branches, yet the entire open arena was already filled with excitement and tension. Over a thousand aspirants stood in organized rows, buzzing with anticipation. Some glanced nervously around, while others wore confident smiles, eager to show the results of years of training.

A light breeze passed through the sacred grounds, rustling the banners that bore the academy's emblem a stylized version of the World Tree, surrounded by six elemental runes. The atmosphere shifted subtly as a figure stepped onto the central stage, his footsteps silent, but his presence unmistakable.

Branch Master Kishor stood tall and composed at the heart of the arena. His robes were a deep navy trimmed with gold, but it wasn't his clothing that drew attention it was the overwhelming pressure he emitted. Those who could sense spiritual energy felt a dense wave roll over them, heavy and commanding, like a storm cloud about to break.

He wasn't just a master. He was a Peak Crest Rank Yodhak, a warrior standing just on the edge of becoming Prime. Even the proudest nobles in the crowd straightened up unconsciously under the weight of his aura.

Then, he spoke.

His voice wasn't loud, but it reverberated across the entire academy grounds with the gentleness of thunder. It wasn't amplified by any machine, but by the sheer resonance of his spiritual aura.

"Welcome, brave aspirants, to the 100th Entrance Examination of the Ashvattha Vidya Mandala."

The crowd erupted in cheers. Young warriors pumped their fists, shouted battle cries, and clapped. The moment was historic—not just another exam, but the centennial selection. The tension eased for a moment, giving way to excitement.

Then Kishor raised his hand slightly, and silence returned like a curtain falling.

"Only the top two hundred," he continued, his tone calm but final, "will be chosen."

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Some aspirants froze, their blood running cold. Others clenched their fists in renewed determination. What had felt like a festival just moments ago now felt like a battlefield. Smiles disappeared. Eyes sharpened.

Kishor turned and gestured behind him to a large, glowing stone standing tall at the edge of the platform. It radiated soft, pulsing light like a heart made of crystal.

"Each of you will attack this Spiritual Stone using any form of combat your fists, weapons, or even Vidyas. It will measure your raw spiritual output. The higher your score, the higher your chances."

He gave a slight nod, then stepped down and walked toward a large pavilion, where several high-ranking instructors sat, watching silently. Kishor took his seat, crossing his arms as he scanned the crowd with a neutral gaze.

A woman with streaks of gray in her hair took center stage, scroll in hand. Her posture was sharp, her eyes sharp enough to cut steel.

"First candidate Kartik," she called out.

A tall boy with spiked black hair stepped up with a confident grin. His uniform was slightly altered—sleeves rolled up, belt tilted, a rebellious swagger in every step. He cracked his knuckles and took a wide stance.

He raised his fist and exhaled, channeling his Hua Vidya, a rare substyle of wind manipulation that granted rapid bursts of speed and explosive strikes. Wind spiraled around his arm as his fist glowed faint green. In a flash, he struck the stone.

A sharp thud echoed.

The stone pulsed green for a moment, then displayed glowing numbers above its surface.

Score: 49.

Polite claps followed. Kartik smirked, soaking in the attention like sunlight.

Candidates came and went, one after another. Punches, kicks, fireballs, and sword slashes lit up the stage. But the scores remained below 50, causing murmurs to rise in the crowd.

Then came a smug voice.

"Watch and learn."

It was Ramesh Kartik's superior . With a dramatic twirl of his hand, he conjured a basic Flame Art, forming a spiraling burst of fire. He hurled it at the stone, the flames roaring briefly before dispersing on impact.

Score: 51.

"Ha!" Ramesh grinned, looking around for applause. Then he turned his gaze toward Aryan, expecting a reaction. But Aryan didn't even glance his way. He stared ahead, arms folded, face unreadable.

The cold dismissal stung more than any fire spell.

More candidates stepped up, and slowly, the scores began to climb. Nobles from various empires showcased refined Vidyas. Their movements were disciplined, honed. The tension in the arena grew with every passing name.

Then came a surprise.

A girl from the Bhouma Rajya (Earth Empire)stepped forward. Quiet and focused, she didn't boast. She simply clenched her fists and struck using Stone Pulse, an Earth-type Vidya.

Score: 80.

The crowd murmured in awe.

Next, a boy from the Vajra Rajya (lightning Empire), wearing dark blue armor etched with lightning motifs, unleashed a bolt of lightning from his palm.

Score: 81.

Even Kishor raised an eyebrow.

"Whoa, they're good," Ayush whispered, clearly impressed.

Abhishek, ever the joker, elbowed him with a grin. "Let them have their moment. Our champ hasn't even flexed yet," he said, nodding toward Aryan.

Aryan sighed. "Ayush, shut him up before we get dragged into another fight."

Ayush chuckled. "I'm innocent!"

"Next—Ayush," the instructor called.

Ayush blinked. "Already?!"

He walked up, nerves in his gut, but determined not to embarrass himself. He inhaled deeply, tightened his stance, and launched a clean punch laced with Stone Vidya into the Spiritual Stone.

Score: 69.

Abhishek howled with laughter. "Sixty-nine? Bro, that's not a score—that's a position!"

Ayush turned red as a chili. "Abhi, I swear to the gods—" He jumped down and smacked his friend on the head. A visible bump formed instantly.

Even the nearby candidates burst into laughter.

But the moment didn't last long.

The instructor's voice cut through the noise once more.

"Shreya of the Jala Rajya."

Silence returned. The silver-haired princess stepped up with elegance that made even the rowdiest boys stand still. She wore light aqua robes that shimmered under the morning sun. Her expression was calm, unreadable, like a serene lake.

She raised her hand slowly. Water coiled around her palm, forming a glowing blue lotus. Then, with a fluid motion, she struck the stone.

A dazzling spiral of water exploded on contact. The Spiritual Stone flashed deep blue.

Score: 86.

Gasps echoed across the training ground. Even the instructors leaned forward.

"Incredible control… and at such a young age," one of them murmured.

"Looks like this year's batch is full of surprises," another added, scribbling notes.

Aryan, still silent, watched it all unfold. His eyes briefly flicked toward the Spiritual Stone, then returned to the sky above the World Tree.

The true storm hadn't even begun.