Chapter 3
The morning sun shone brightly, and the rays of sunlight forced Sabre to open his eyelids.
"Fuck!"
That was the first word that escaped his mouth as he felt the warmth of sunlight on his skin.
"I'm late," he muttered, glancing at the small clock by the side of his bed. He rubbed his eyes to clear away the drowsiness and sat up slowly, his messy hair sticking out in all directions. With a tired yawn, he dragged himself out of bed and stretched his arms until his joints gave a small crack.
The faint breeze from the open window carried the soft scent of iron dust from the streets below. Outside, the sound of footsteps and chatter filled the air — another busy morning in Iron Citadel.
Sabre grabbed a towel and walked lazily into the small bathroom. The cold water that splashed over his skin made him hiss, but it woke him up instantly. After a quick bath, he stared at himself in the cracked mirror. His lean reflection stared back — brown eyes that still looked sleepy but carried a spark of determination.
He put on a pair of purple tops and a black knicker, clothes that made him look more like someone going for a nap rather than a major event. Letting out a sigh, he slipped his boots on and stepped out of his apartment.
"Good morning, Sabre!"
The voice came from across the narrow hallway. It was Mrs. Lora, his neighbor — a kind woman in her fifties, holding a basket of fruits. She had always been like a motherly figure to him, someone who looked after him when times were hard.
"Good morning, ma'am," Sabre replied politely, dusting his boots to make them look more presentable.
Mrs. Lora smiled kindly but her sharp eyes didn't miss his nervous hands. "You heading to the Guild House today?" she asked softly.
Sabre nodded and gave a small bow. "Yes, ma'am. It's the talent awakening test."
She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry too much. Just do your best. You've always had something special in you."
Sabre smiled faintly, grateful for her words. "Thank you."
As he left the building and walked into the bustling streets, the morning sun glimmered off the metallic walls of the city. Iron Citadel was a place that mixed steel and mana. The air shimmered faintly with energy from the glowing power lines that ran through the streets, and the noise of hover-wagons hummed in the background. People rushed past — merchants shouting, kids running, guards patrolling in mana armor that pulsed softly with light.
Sabre walked quickly, his heart beating faster the closer he got to the Guild House.
But halfway through the market street, something unexpected happened.
A man with a deep scar running from his forehead down to his cheek brushed roughly against him. The impact was small but sharp — Sabre felt a slight tug at his pocket. His body froze for a second, and then his instincts kicked in.
"Hey—"
The man was already walking away fast, disappearing into the crowd. Sabre checked his pocket — his small bronze coin pouch was missing.
"Damn it."
He clenched his fist but didn't chase after the man. Instead, he sighed heavily. "Figures. My luck's trash today."
Still, a small smile crept across his lips. It wasn't the first time this had happened. Living in the middle districts, he had learned not to make a scene over a few stolen coins.
"Rogue," he muttered under his breath, turning away. "Hope you choke on that breakfast."
He kept walking until the grand walls of the Iron Citadel Guild came into view.
The structure was enormous — towering spires of silver steel covered in glowing runes that pulsed faintly like living veins. Banners fluttered in the wind, each marked with the Guild's insignia — a sword surrounded by three stars.
"Welcome to the Iron Citadel Guild! How may I help you?"
A young woman at the reception desk greeted him with a bright smile. Her hair shimmered under the mana lights, and her voice was warm.
"I want to register for the awakening test," Sabre said, keeping his voice steady even though his palms were slightly sweaty.
"Of course." She handed him a small token. "Name and age, please?"
"Sabre, fourteen years old."
She smiled again and wrote it down neatly. "Alright, Sabre. You'll be number 125. Head to the main hall through that door."
Sabre nodded and walked down the long corridor. The hall he entered was massive, filled with hundreds of youths like him — some confident, some nervous, and others whispering excitedly. The air was filled with tension and anticipation.
The floor shone like polished glass, reflecting the flickering light from floating crystals that hung above. Around the walls, banners displayed the achievements of past geniuses — talented cultivators who had awakened dual or even triple affinities.
Sabre looked down at his simple clothes and scratched his head. He definitely stood out among the other kids, most of whom wore refined outfits and expensive mana threads. Some gave him quick glances and whispered to each other, their looks a mix of curiosity and disdain.
He ignored them. He wasn't here to impress anyone.
A man in grey robes stood at the front, his presence calm but heavy. His voice echoed through the hall.
"Good day to you all. Today, we measure your awakening through three things — spiritual resonance, core essence, and talent. All will be tested using the Mana Orb before you."
He gestured to a large crystal orb resting on a pedestal. It shimmered faintly with light, reacting to the mana in the air.
"Step forward when your number is called."
One by one, participants stepped up to the orb, placing their hands on its surface. Each time, the orb glowed in different colors — red for fire, blue for water, green for wind, yellow for lightning. The crowd would murmur and react every time someone showed a rare affinity.
Sabre watched silently from the side, his arms crossed. He didn't know what to expect, but his chest tightened with every name called.
Finally—
"Number 125!" the examiner called out.
Sabre froze for half a heartbeat, then took a deep breath. He walked forward, his boots tapping lightly against the floor. The crowd's murmurs faded into a low hum behind him.
His expression remained calm, though his heart thumped in his chest like a drum.
He stopped in front of the glowing orb. Its light shimmered faintly, as if waiting.
Taking a slow breath, Sabre raised his hand and gently placed his palm against the orb.
The surface was cold at first, then it pulsed — once, twice — before the light began to stir.
The air around him grew still.
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