The golden light spread outward like a rising sun, swallowing the training field whole.
Heat shimmered from the formation lines carved into the stone floor. Ancient sigils pulsed under our feet, thrumming in rhythm with the heartbeat of the empire itself.
The Colonel raised one hand. "First trial—"
His voice rolled like thunder. "—Endurance and Pressure. Stand firm under the weight of heaven."
A wave of invisible energy surged outward from his palm. The air thickened instantly; it was as if a mountain had dropped from the sky. The pressure struck like a hammer.
Cracks spider-webbed across the stone tiles.
Dozens of recruits fell to their knees gasping, their qi collapsing. Others screamed outright and dropped unconscious.
The Colonel's expression didn't change. "Hold for three minutes. Those who remain standing will proceed."
The timer began to glow overhead: 00:03:00
Each second crawled like a lifetime.
The pressure wasn't simply gravity—it was spiritual suppression, forcing mana and qi to rebel inside our bodies. It was meant to measure the strength of our foundations, to expose cracks in cultivation and willpower alike.
Beside me, Alex straightened his back, drawing slow, measured breaths. I could see the faint shimmer of mana spiraling under his skin, tracing along his mana paths in rhythmic waves. He was using circulatory flow control—a technique we'd learned from the Phantom Emperor's manuals—to distribute pressure evenly through the body.
I did the same, letting my flame mana rise, burning in low steady pulses to resist the crushing force. Every heartbeat sent ripples of heat down my limbs. Sweat poured from my brow, sizzling as it touched my skin.
Around us, the field turned into chaos.
A young cultivator to my right coughed blood and collapsed. Another tried to channel too much qi at once—his veins burst with a sickening pop, mana dispersing into the air. Those near the edge of the formation crawled away, gasping for air like drowning men.
The officers above observed silently. To them, this was nothing more than sorting wheat from chaff.
I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the roar fade.
Stillness within fire, I reminded myself. Let the heat carry the weight.
The pressure increased again—fifty percent heavier. The Colonel was testing us further.
My knees trembled. My mana flared wildly, threatening to break control, but I clenched my jaw and forced it down. I felt the searing heat from my inner core spread outward, wrapping around my muscles like molten armor. The flames didn't burn—they reinforced.
A single breath. Two.
When I opened my eyes again, Alex was still upright, calm as a mountain. Mana pulsed softly around him, visible now as a translucent silver-blue aura.
Others stared at us in disbelief. Even the Captains exchanged looks from their platform.
"Those two…" I heard the female Captain murmur. "Their mana density—no fluctuation."
The Colonel said nothing, but his gaze lingered on us longer than anyone else's.
One minute remaining.
The pressure intensified again. My muscles screamed in protest, my vision blurring around the edges. Each inhale was a struggle against the crushing force that sought to bury me in the ground.
But then I remembered the faces of those who'd fallen—the laughter of John, the betrayal, my father's final words. Rage burned clean and bright in my chest, fusing with the heat of my mana.
The ground beneath my feet cracked, yet I refused to yield.
Twenty seconds… ten…
And then, suddenly, the pressure vanished. The air became light again—too light—and the world tilted. My legs almost gave out, but I forced myself to stand tall as the final gong echoed across the courtyard.
Time: 00:03:00 reached.
When the light dimmed, only sixty-four recruits remained standing out of nearly two thousand.
The Colonel looked over them, his eyes hard but approving. "Good. You've taken your first step."
The formation lines faded, leaving the scent of ozone and sweat in the air. Medics hurried to carry the fallen away; those who fainted would be discharged immediately.
A Lieutenant floated down to the survivors, his armor gleaming. "Those who still stand, follow the markers to the next field. The second trial begins in one hour."
The crowd parted for us as we walked off the stage. Many stared in disbelief.
A young man with dark hair—Wei Long, as I later learned—fell into step beside me. His breathing was ragged, but he managed a grin. "You two… what are you made of? I thought my legs were going to break."
Alex gave him a polite smile. "You stood through it. That's what matters."
Wei Long laughed breathlessly. "Maybe, but somehow I feel like the rest of us were standing under a mountain while you two were under a cloud."
I didn't reply. Instead, I glanced back at the platform where Colonel Zhang still watched, his sharp eyes unreadable even from this distance.
For a heartbeat, I felt his gaze meet mine. There was a flicker there—not suspicion, but interest.
Then he turned away.
Alex nudged my shoulder. "You think he noticed?"
"He'd be blind not to."
We reached the resting area, where attendants handed out spirit-infused water and medicinal leaves. The air was thick with exhaustion and murmured disbelief.
I sat cross-legged, letting mana circulate slowly through my limbs, repairing micro-tears caused by the intense pressure. The fire in my veins pulsed slower now, steady and disciplined.
Alex sat beside me, his eyes half-closed in concentration. "We'll need to pace ourselves. They'll only raise the bar from here."
"I know." I looked up toward the next training field, where glowing runes were already being re-inscribed by formation masters. "But I'm curious to see what their 'speed and control' trial looks like."
Alex smirked faintly. "Whatever it is, it's not going to be easy."
The hourglass on the field flipped again, sand cascading downward as the gong sounded once more.
The second trial was about to begin.
And as the formation lines began to light up again, I could feel it—
the hum of anticipation, the thrill of battle, the promise of proving ourselves in a world that had long forgotten the name Vardar.