The air changed long before the carriage wheels touched the volcanic glass of the outer rim. It wasn't just the heat—it was the weight. At the Salvatore Estate, the air felt like silk and soft rain; here, at the base of the Obsidian Peak, the atmosphere felt like a physical hand pressing against the lungs.
Nikolas sat in the corner of the transport carriage, his back straight, his eyes fixed on the shifting red text that floated before his retinas.
[LOCATION: THE WORLD ACADEMY - OUTER THRESHOLD]
[ENVIRONMENTAL HAZARD: LOW-LEVEL ASH INHALATION]
[STATUS]: Potara Fusion Stabilized. All systems optimal.
He glanced across the carriage at his friends. They were silent, huddled together in the dim light of the mana-lamps. This was the moment their "Runt" status was supposed to be erased, yet as the massive, soot-stained gates of the fortress loomed ahead, the old fear was visible in the way Jax gripped his copper-wire kit and Mina stared at her own trembling, clawless hands.
Nikolas reached into his mind, navigating the new, clean interface of the stabilized System.
[SKILL ACTIVATION: ALPHA'S BUFF (PASSIVE - LOW)]
[TARGETS]: The Runt Squad.
[EFFECT]: Vitality Stabilization.
A subtle, deep-red pulse radiated from Nikolas's chest. It was invisible to the naked eye, a wave of warmth that settled the racing hearts of those around him. He saw Jax take a deep, steady breath. He saw the tension leave Mina's jaw.
They don't need to know why they feel brave, Nikolas thought, his fingers brushing the cool, ancient gold of the earring on his left ear. They just need to survive the first hour.
Jax felt the carriage lurch to a halt, the screech of iron on stone setting his teeth on edge. Every nerve in his body was screaming. He was a "Mana-Less" human—a biological fluke in a world of wolves and dragons. To the Academy, he was a servant who had somehow tricked a Recruitment Knight into giving him a token.
He clutched the heavy leather satchel on his lap. Inside sat his masterpiece: a steam-pressured, mana-conductive gauntlet. If the Academy inspectors found it, they'd call it "forbidden contraband" or "low-class junk" and toss it into the forge.
"Step out! Line up! Eyes front!"
The voice that boomed through the carriage door wasn't human. It was deep, guttural, and carried the vibration of a mountain shifting.
Jax stepped onto the black rock, his boots crunching on volcanic ash. He squinted against the glare of the lava-canals that lined the courtyard. Standing before them was a man who looked like he had been carved out of the mountain itself. He stood nearly seven feet tall, wearing the silver-trimmed grey furs of an Academy Knight. His arms were the size of Jax's torso, covered in scars that glowed with a faint, dormant amber light.
"I am Knight-Instructor Valerius," the giant growled, his eyes—golden and reptilian—sweeping over the group of recruits. "You are here because someone, somewhere, thought you had potential. I am here to prove them wrong."
Valerius stopped in front of Jax. The heat radiating off the Knight was like standing next to a furnace.
"Human," Valerius spat, the word dripping with a strange mix of pity and annoyance. "The Engineering Wing is three miles down the lower slope. Why are you standing in the Warrior's Circle?"
Jax's throat felt like it was full of sand. He looked up at the golden eyes, his hand instinctively tightening on the strap of his bag. "I... I'm not an Engineer-servant, sir. I'm a combat recruit."
A ripple of laughter went through the other recruits—the high-class children of the great houses who had arrived in gilded carriages.
"A combatant?" Valerius leaned down, his shadow swallowing Jax whole. "With what? Your clever words? Your soft fingers? Give me that bag."
Jax froze. This was it. Everything he had built in the ruins, every secret training session with Nikolas, was about to be confiscated before he even saw his bunk. He felt a sudden, strange jolt of energy hit the back of his neck—a cold, sharp focus that wasn't his own.
Don't let go, a voice seemed to echo in the back of his mind.
"It's personal property, sir," Jax said, his voice surprisingly steady. "Academy Bylaw 4, Section 2: Recruits may retain one item of cultural or personal significance during the Sorting, provided it fits within a standard pack."
Valerius paused, his eyes narrowing. He smelled the copper. He smelled the oil. But more than that, he smelled the total lack of fear coming from a boy who should be hyperventilating.
"A lawyer," Valerius snorted, straightening up. "Fine. Keep your trash, boy. But if that bag slows you down during the Obsidian Run, I'll feed it to the drakes with you still attached to it."
Jax let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He glanced back at Nikolas, who was staring blankly at a wall, his expression unreadable. Thanks, Niko, Jax thought, though he didn't know exactly what he was thanking him for.
Mina watched Jax survive the encounter with the Knight, but she couldn't share his relief. Her problem was different. She was a Dragon-kin, but her back was smooth, devoid of the majestic wings that defined the high-class Draconic nobility. To the other Dragons in the courtyard, she was a "Flightless Runt."
She could feel their stares. Three recruits from the Ignis Estate—the premier Dragon house—were standing ten feet away. Their wings were tucked neatly against their backs, their scales shimmering with a healthy, ruby-red sheen.
"Look at that," one of the Ignis boys whispered, loud enough for Mina to hear. "They're letting lizards in now. I wonder if she's here to scrub the lava-pits."
Mina bit her lip until she tasted blood. She wanted to roar, to show them the "Iron Skin" she had been cultivating under the waterfalls of the ruins. But she knew the rules. An unprovoked shift outside the training ring was grounds for immediate expulsion.
Knight Valerius walked to the center of the courtyard, his heavy boots echoing like drums.
"The Sorting is simple!" he barked. "There is a pillar of raw obsidian at the top of the Peak. You have until sunset to touch it. If you arrive after the sun dips, you are Copper Rank. If you arrive while the sun is still up, you are Silver. If you arrive before the mid-day bell... you are Gold."
He pointed toward the jagged, smoking summit of the dormant volcano. There were no paths. Only vertical cliffs, bubbling lava vents, and the thick, choking fog of the "Ash-Zone."
"Begin!"
The Ignis recruits didn't hesitate. With a powerful snap of their wings, they took to the air, soaring over the first layer of cliffs with arrogant ease. The high-class wolves shifted mid-run, their fur bristling as they leaped up the rocks with supernatural agility.
Mina looked at the cliff face. It was three hundred feet of sheer, slick glass. Without wings, it was a death trap.
"Mina."
She turned. Nikolas was standing beside her. He looked perfectly calm, as if they were just going for a stroll in the kitchen gardens.
"I can't fly, Niko," she said, her voice cracking. "I'm going to be Copper. I'll be a servant for the next two years."
"You're not a lizard," Nikolas said, his eyes locking onto hers with a terrifying intensity. "You're a Ground-Dragon. The mountain is made of your element, Mina. Don't fight the rock. Own it."
He stepped toward the cliff, and for a second, Mina saw a flicker of something—a red grid that seemed to map the very air around them.
"Look at the cracks," Nikolas pointed. "The Ignis boys are lazy; they don't see the thermal vents. Use the heat. Use your scales."
Mina looked where he was pointing. She saw it then—a series of jagged fissures that lead upward, radiating a low, steady warmth. It was a path built for someone who didn't need to fly.
"See you at the top," Nikolas said, before he turned and began a steady, rhythmic climb, his movements so precise it looked like he was walking up a staircase.
Mina took a deep breath. She let her human skin ripple, her scales hardening until they were the color of cold iron. She didn't grow wings. She grew claws—thick, curved talons designed for one thing: gripping the earth and never letting go.
She slammed her hand into the obsidian wall. The rock shattered under her grip.
I am a Ground-Dragon, she thought, a primal growl vibrating in her chest. And this mountain belongs to me.
Nikolas climbed with a mechanical efficiency that would have terrified any onlooker. While the others were gasping for breath, their muscles burning from the sulfurous air, he was navigating a world of pure data.
[STAMINA DRAIN: 0.2% PER MINUTE]
[TRAJECTORY CALCULATED: OPTIMAL PATH REACHED]
[NOTICE]: The Ignis Recruits are 400 meters above. Estimated time to intercept: 12 minutes.
He wasn't interested in being Silver or Copper. He needed Gold. Not for the prestige, but for the [Lunar Cache] expansion that came with the Gold Rank quarters—private rooms with their own mana-wells.
He reached a ledge halfway up the peak. The heat here was intense enough to singe clothing. He saw a group of three high-class wolves from a rival estate—the Vane family. They were struggling, their paws burned by the hot stone, their shifted forms panting heavily.
"Out of the way, runt," one of the Vane wolves snarled, snapping its jaws at Nikolas as he bypassed them.
Nikolas didn't even look back. He tapped his left ear.
[SKILL ACTIVATION: SHADOW-STEP (RANK 1)]
In the blink of an eye, Nikolas wasn't on the ledge anymore. He was twenty feet higher, standing on a jagged outcropping that shouldn't have been reachable. He moved like a glitch in reality—one moment he was here, the next he was there, leaving a faint trail of red static in the air.
I have to be careful, he reminded himself. The Masters are watching from the towers. If I move too fast, the Veil will break.
He slowed his pace, mimicking the labored breathing of a "High-Class" wolf. He allowed his skin to sweat. He allowed his heart rate to climb to a visible level.
As he reached the final plateau, the obsidian pillar stood gleaming under the harsh noon sun. The three Ignis dragons were already there, preening their wings, laughing about how they had "beaten the trash."
They didn't notice the boy in the dusty Salvatore tunic until he walked past them and placed his hand on the cold, black stone of the pillar.
The mid-day bell tolled—a deep, resonant sound that echoed across the entire volcano.
[QUEST COMPLETE: THE SORTING]
[RANK ACHIEVED: GOLD (RANK 1)]
[REWARD]: 500 EXP / World Academy Signet / Private Dormitory Access.
The Ignis dragons froze. Their golden eyes went wide as they looked at the "Low-Class" wolf who had somehow beaten them to the summit without wings.
"You," the lead dragon hissed, his scales bristling. "How did you get here? We didn't see you pass."
Nikolas turned, his [Actor's Veil] firmly in place. He wiped a fake bead of sweat from his forehead and gave them a tired, shaky smile.
"I just... I got lucky with the thermal vents," Nikolas said, his voice small and humble. "I think the mountain was on my side today."
Before the dragons could respond, a shadow fell over the plateau.
A figure descended from the sky. It wasn't a dragon, and it wasn't a wolf. It was a man in long, flowing robes of midnight blue, floating on a disc of shimmering silver light. He didn't have the scars of a Knight; he had the cold, piercing gaze of a Mage Master.
The dragons immediately hit the ground, their wings tucked in a gesture of total submission.
The Mage Master ignored them. He floated toward Nikolas, his eyes lingering on the Salvatore boy's left ear.
"Nikolas Salvatore," the Master said, his voice like the chime of a silver bell. "The first 'Low-Class' to take Gold in three centuries. Your luck is... remarkable."
[SYSTEM ALERT: SOUL-SCAN DETECTED]
[SOURCE]: MASTER ELIAS (THE ARCHIVE KEEPER)
[WARNING]: Veil Integrity: 88%. Do not activate System features during conversation.
"Thank you, Master," Nikolas said, bowing low.
"Luck is a fickle thing, boy," Elias said, his silver disc tilting as he circled Nikolas. "In the Obsidian Peak, it usually runs out by the second week. I look forward to seeing if yours holds until the Grand Tournament."
With a flick of his wrist, the Master tossed a heavy, gold coin toward Nikolas.
"Your signet. Your room is in the Spire. Don't be late for the orientation. The Shadows don't wait for luck to catch up."
As the Master floated away, Nikolas gripped the gold coin. He could feel the eyes of the Ignis dragons—and the dozen other Silver-rank wolves now reaching the summit—burning into his back.
He had the Gold Rank. He had the privacy he needed. But he also had a target on his chest.
Exactly where I want it, Nikolas thought.
He turned toward the edge of the cliff and looked down. Far below, he could see a small, iron-colored shape clawing its way up the rock. Mina was going to make Silver. Behind her, a plume of steam marked where Jax was using his gauntlet to blast his way through the ash-zone.
The Runt Squad was in. Now, the real training began.