The carriage rocked and bumped as it trundled down the dirt road toward Valewind Institute.
Kaelen sat in the back, his battered sword resting against his knee, staring out at the misty hills in the distance.
In his pocket, he gripped a thin piece of parchment — his official acceptance letter.
"We regret to inform you that your application to Astralis Academy has been declined."
"You have been placed at Valewind Institute. We wish you good fortune in your endeavors."
Good fortune.
Kaelen almost laughed aloud.
Astralis — the dream of every awakener — had barely even glanced at him before tossing his application into the gutter.
One F-Class talent was enough to decide his entire worth in their eyes.
"No matter," Kaelen thought, tightening his jaw. "Valewind may be second-rate, but it's where I'll start."
The System pulsed quietly at the back of his mind, a silent reassurance.
[System Notice: New Quest - "Surpass Expectations."]
[Objective: Finish Top 10% in First Combat Assessment.]
[Reward: Unlock Second Class Copy Ability.]
Kaelen's lips curved into a small, determined smile.
He would turn their underestimation into his weapon.
The carriage rolled through an iron-wrought gate, and Kaelen caught his first glimpse of Valewind Institute.
It was… rough around the edges.
Unlike Astralis's marble towers and crystalline walls shown in paintings, Valewind's buildings were heavy stone and dark wood, weathered by years of hard seasons. Training fields sprawled across open courtyards, their grasses worn thin by thousands of bootsteps.
It looked more like a war camp than a prestigious academy.
Kaelen liked it immediately.
Registration was chaos.
Students in mismatched armor, worn robes, and dented weapons jostled each other in long lines.
Instructors — grizzled veterans with scars and missing fingers — barked orders and insults alike.
"If you trip on your own sword, I'll leave you there for the wolves!"
"Crybabies belong in the fields, not the Institute!"
"Only the strong or the smart survive here — choose one!"
Kaelen moved through the crowd, showing his acceptance parchment.
An old man with a patchy gray beard handed him a plain iron badge marked with a "V" and waved him through.
No cheering crowds. No admiring nobles.
Just a simple muttered, "Next."
The first Assembly was held in the Training Yard.
Hundreds of first-years gathered, standing at awkward attention.
Kaelen glanced around, sizing up his new classmates.
Some wore decent armor. Others carried staffs, bows, or heavy shields.
Most looked uncertain.
One boy nearby caught Kaelen's eye — broad-shouldered, a big scar slashing across his jaw, swinging a massive axe over one shoulder.
The boy caught Kaelen's glance and smirked.
"You one of those pretty Astralis rejects?" he asked, voice low but carrying.
Kaelen shrugged. "You?"
The boy barked a laugh. "Name's Eren Voss. Talent's 'Ironblood Swordsman.' B-Class."
He patted his axe. "This beauty and me? We plan on ruling this dump."
Kaelen just smiled faintly. He liked confidence. He would enjoy surprising him later.
Nearby, a girl in white priest robes offered a shy smile.
"Selina Heartgrove." she said, curtsying slightly. "Healing Talent — 'Dawn's Embrace.' It's… nice to meet you."
Kaelen nodded back.
Already, he could feel the threads of fate twisting together.
The Head Instructor — a towering man named Commander Ardyn — stomped onto the stage.
His armor was scratched and dented. His voice was a hammer striking an anvil.
"Welcome to Valewind Institute," he growled. "You're here because you're not perfect. Because you were overlooked, underestimated, or just too stubborn to quit."
"Good. That's what we breed here. Survivors. Warriors. Sovereigns of their own damn destiny."
He paced before them, his gaze sharp as daggers.
"Tomorrow morning, we begin your first assessment. Combat trials. Rank yourself, or be ranked by force."
"Understand this: your Talent will not save you here. Only strength, willpower, and adaptability."
Kaelen's heart beat faster.
Finally — a place that wouldn't judge him by a crystal's glow.
Finally, a real chance.
Later That Night:
Kaelen found a quiet spot behind the barracks.
Under the moonlight, he drew his sword.
He breathed deeply.
Heavy Strike, the skill he had gained from the Stone Wolf, shimmered faintly at the edge of his mind — not instinctive yet, but ready to be shaped.
He swung.
Again.
Again.
Each blow carved a whisper through the night air.
Each motion burned his muscles, made his arms tremble — but Kaelen endured.
While others slept dreaming of easy victories, Kaelen built himself.
Stroke after stroke.
One step at a time.