Chương 104: First Place

In a dim, near-pitch-dark hall, high beneath a vaulted ceiling that vanished somewhere into impenetrable gloom, all manner of beings sat upon the many balconies carved from dark stone, worn smooth and darkened by time — among them were ordinary humans, indistinguishable from anyone one might pass on a city street, save for a bearing that betrayed years of holding power, and inhuman creatures whose forms defied easy description: some with faces cut a touch too sharp, as if deliberately honed, and an unnaturally even, almost lifeless posture; others barely fit into the seats allotted to them, wrapped in cloaks and hoods that hid their true shapes beneath layers of fabric embroidered with crests and symbols whose meaning had long since faded from most memories present.

All of them were talking loudly amongst themselves, trading short, clipped remarks in dozens of different tongues, and from this swelling murmur of voices, echoing off the stone walls, a low, almost tangible rumble spread through the hall, like distant thunder that refused to fade, rolling endlessly beneath the vaults.

The air here was heavy, stale, tinged with something faintly reminiscent of old stone, wax, and heated metal, as though the very atmosphere of this place carried the memory of dozens, if not hundreds, of gatherings like this one, held here over long, long years, each leaving behind its own invisible but palpable trace. Suddenly the hall's central doors swung open with a heavy, drawn-out creak, letting in a sharp light that cut painfully after the gloom, spilling in from the lit corridor beyond.

The murmur of voices on the balconies died at once, as if on some unseen signal, and dozens of eyes — human, inhuman, glowing crimson or amber from beneath hoods — turned toward the newcomer, tracking his every step with heavy, appraising attention. The one who entered was an official of the WPA — a tall, well-built man in dark blue regulation trousers and a puffer jacket zipped all the way up, its thick fabric nonetheless failing to fully hide his lean, athletic frame.

His blue hair was gathered into a long, neat ponytail that fell to his shoulders and swayed gently with each step, catching the dim light of the scattered wall lamps in cold, metallic glints.

Reaching the center of the hall, he stopped, pausing briefly to swipe through something on the glowing screen of the tablet in his hand, then lifted his gaze to the balconies and began to speak, his voice even, polished, clearly accustomed to halls and audiences like this one, as if he'd said these very words dozens of times before in his career. — Honored Guildmasters and your representatives, everything is ready.

He gestured with his free hand toward the far wall, and at that very instant a massive glowing screen flared to life there, seeming to weave itself out of nothing, long, neatly arranged lists of names immediately beginning to scroll across it, stretching off beyond the edge of sight. — You may review the results. As always, we'll begin with the top placements.

He lowered his eyes to the tablet again, ran a finger across the screen, and spoke, raising his voice slightly so it would carry clearly through the entire hall, echoing faintly off the stone vaults. — Well then. The Player who took first place in the Exam — Winter Bloom...

Not a single objection sounded in the hall, not a single murmur of surprise, not one word of discussion — the silence was so complete it seemed as though everyone present had known this from the very start, as though the outcome had been decided long before this name was ever spoken, long before the Exam itself had even begun. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

"Not a sound. Even here, among these powerful, influential beings, no one dares question this name," the thought crossed the official's mind fleetingly as he continued reading from the screen. — Also known by the name Casper Aurelius. A member of the Aurelius family, heirs to the Archon's blood, one of the Five World Powers. The moment that name had finished echoing through the hall, the central doors behind the official swung open again with the same heavy creak, letting in another sharp beam of light.

In the doorway appeared the silhouette of a young man, stepping inside unhurriedly, almost lazily, as though in no rush at all to attend his own celebration. He wore a long white cloak, thin golden lines winding along its edges and sleeves, gleaming even in the dim light as though traced in molten metal.

He crossed the entire hall with an even, faintly languid stride, finally coming to a stop a couple of meters from the official — his face remained utterly impassive, not a single muscle so much as twitching, as if nothing happening around him warranted any reaction whatsoever, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his cloak.

A wave of applause immediately rolled through the hall — dry, clipped, coming all at once from dozens of balconies, as if the whole room, in a single unified gesture, were paying tribute not so much to the result itself as to the name that had just been spoken aloud. That sound, however, was quickly cut short by the official himself, who let out a short, deliberate cough clearly meant to pull the audience's attention back to business. — Well then, ladies and gentlemen, let's vote.

Beneath every balcony, set right into the carved stone railing, sat a small round bulb, which until this moment had glowed a steady, dim red.

But the instant those words were spoken, one of the bulbs suddenly flared bright green, then another, then another, and another — the light spread through the hall in a rush, like fire leaping from branch to branch, until at last every single bulb in the hall glowed with that same rich, triumphant green, bathing the entire hall in an unfamiliar, almost festive glow, reflected off the stone walls and the high vaulted ceiling.

The official swept his gaze over the scene, lingering for a moment on the young man standing before him — but the whole affair, it seemed, meant absolutely nothing to him. He simply stood there, hands in his pockets, face carrying the same utterly indifferent expression, gazing off somewhere to the side, radiating that particular, almost arrogant detachment rarely seen in anyone under thirty.

"So this is what they're like — heirs to the Archon's blood. Every single guild chose him. You don't see that often, not even after years in this job." The official ran his eyes once more over the voting results displayed on his tablet, confirming he hadn't misread anything, then turned to face the young man standing before him. — You have the opportunity to join any guild you wish. Which will you choose?

The young man, without a moment's hesitation, as though the answer had been prepared long in advance, raised his hand and said, quietly, almost lazily, though the word rang out clearly, carrying through the hushed hall. — Alderon. At that very instant, the massive screen behind the official flared with a new, blindingly yellow light, and across it, in large letters rendered in an elegant script, appeared a single word — "Alderon."

Not one of the guildmasters seated on the balconies showed the slightest surprise, not one grumbled, not one clicked their tongue in disappointment — it was as though every one of them had already known exactly which guild this silent young man would choose, as though there had never truly been another option.

Without another word, the young man turned and left the hall at an unhurried pace, and the official followed him with a long, thoughtful gaze until the massive doors swung shut behind him with that same drawn-out creak, plunging the space by the entrance back into its familiar half-light.

"He chose the strongest guild in the entire world. Then again, why would that surprise anyone — its founders are, after all, his own family." The moment Casper had fully left the hall, the official turned back to face the balconies, raised his tablet, and continued in a voice that had regained its former businesslike monotony, while the massive screen behind him had already begun rearranging its lists of names, preparing to display the next result. — Well then, let's continue. Taking second place...