That evening.
The clearing where the enumeration was held buzzed with tension.
Beneath the tall banners of the Velmoria Academy, students formed uneven lines—tired, scraped, mud-covered, and more emotionally destroyed than a failed midterm right before winter break.
Professors sat at long, enchanted tables, clipboards floating beside them, noting gem counts as the long line of third-year students approached, one by one.
"I got one," a bruised student mumbled, holding up a single red gem like a defeated lottery winner.
The nearest professor, a thin man with ink-stained fingers, raised an eyebrow. "One?"
"Y-yeah. I almost died four times."
The professor looked at the guy from head to toe, only to shake his head.
"Next!"
The next in line walked up, smiling.