The moment the portal rippled shut behind her, Kathlyn knew she wasn't in the academy's world anymore.
There was no sound.
No wind.
Just... stillness.
And then the light returned, soft and unnatural, filling the space with a gentle glow.
A field
Endless, and impossibly vivid.
She stood in the middle of a meadow filled with sky-blue flowers, their petals pulsing faintly, almost rhythmically. The colors were surreal, like they had been painted onto the world by hand. Everything around her felt too clean, too dreamlike.
Her boots barely made a sound as she stepped forward. The flowers didn't crush underfoot. They shifted, parted, like they wanted her to pass through untouched.
"What... is this?" she muttered.
No response Of course not.
She glanced up. There was no sun in the sky. Just brightness ambient, sourceless. The sky itself looked painted on. Cloudless. Motionless.
"This is supposed to be a prism A trial. Not some... mana-blessed flower garden."
But deep down, she knew this was exactly what she'd signed up for.
The Fourth Prism. Unmapped. Untamed. Rejected by every other Class C student
Perfect.
She moved forward again, slower this time. Her arms remained at her sides, but her fists were clenched. She hated how off-balance she felt. The silence wasn't natural. It didn't offer peace it stole orientation. There were no shadows, no smells. Just her, the endless field, and the weight of unseen expectations.
"I must be the only idiot who agreed to this without bringing backup," she muttered. "No, not an idiot. Just... desperate."
She glanced behind her.
No portal.
No trace of the students who had entered with her.
Gone she was alone the quiet thought they might have followed her in faded
Typical.
She closed her eyes briefly, exhaling through her nose.
This is fine. I don't need anyone.
I never have.
She didn't believe it not fully. But she didn't have time to unravel it now.
It took time maybe an hour, maybe more but eventually, the endless field began to change. The ground sloped gently upward into a low hill, and at the top, something stood out.
A shape.
Stone.
Kathlyn picked up her pace, boots thudding softly against the soil. Her body moved on instinct, like she'd done this before.
The shrine revealed itself slowly.
Simple. A flat altar, raised on a base of pale stone. Its color was so washed-out it looked fake almost too smooth. At its center was a single object.
A tablet.
Unmarked.
Blank.
She slowed as she approached.
"…This is it?"
She circled it once, her eyes scanning every edge.
No glyphs.
No buttons.
Nothing that would indicate it's actual purpose
Just a heavy-looking slab of ancient rock. Sitting there like it had been waiting.
Her breath hitched slightly.
What kind of relic test starts like this?
Where were the enemies?
Where was the magic guardian she was supposed to defeat?
Where were the puzzles or hidden switches or spell traps?
She stepped in closer. Her hand hovered over the surface.
The moment she touched it just a brush with her fingertips the world around her changed.
Not physically.
But in sensation.
The wind stopped. The light dimmed slightly. The pressure… grew.
Like the air had thickened. Or something massive was breathing through the ground below her.
Not hostile.
Just there existing
She pulled her hand back and took a step away.
"...What do you want me to do?"
The altar gave no answer.
It just sat there, as blank as before, humming quietly with dormant power.
Kathlyn crossed her arms.
"Is this the trial? What am I supposed to feel here?"
She hated this. Not because it was hard, but because it was vague.
She could handle pain. Fighting Endurance tests She could tank mana shocks and keep going through broken bones.
But this?
This was nothing.
A whisper of expectation. A hint of pressure. A suggestion that she should already know what to do.
But she didn't.
And that infuriated her.
She sat down.
Not because she was tired, but because standing there made her feel stupid.
She folded her legs beneath her and glared at the altar like it owed her something.
"Fine. You want patience? You'll get patience."
She closed her eyes.
Tried to steady her breathing.
Tried to stop thinking about Kai.
…Of course she failed.
"Idiot," she muttered under her breath.
Why hadn't she brought him?
Because that would've made it real.
Because if she brought him along, it would mean she trusted him.
And she wasn't ready to admit that. Not even to herself.
Especially not when she still wasn't sure if he was serious, or just another overly confident boy chasing something he didn't understand...someone he didn't understand
It's not like she would completely against the idea he was decently handsome and it would only be casual but the she remembered his lusful gaze...forget it
But now?
Alone in this impossible field, in front of a silent altar with no clues and no direction…
She started to wonder.
Maybe… having someone nearby wouldn't have been so bad.
Not that she'd ever admit it out loud.
The silence stretched.
Time passed but in this place, it was impossible to tell how much. The light never shifted. The air never stirred. It was like the world around her was holding its breath, waiting for something to click into place.
Kathlyn kept her eyes closed.
Waiting.
Listening.
Trying not to think too hard.
And just when she was about to give up to rise, walk away, maybe punch the tablet just to feel something
The stone hummed.
Not audibly. But beneath her, through the soles of her boots, through the soil, through her bones it vibrated. Soft, like a heartbeat. Then firmer.
Then
Words.
Carved themselves onto the tablet.
Not with force, but like someone was brushing away dust to reveal something that had always been there.
Kathlyn's eyes snapped open.
She stared.
A language she didn't recognize at first, but somehow… could still read.
Her breath caught.
A story
---
> She was born in the east, at the edge of a quiet village surrounded by hills and wheat.
> Her father was a roofer. He built things by hand. Nails, hammer, wood. His back was always hunched, but he smiled often.
> Her mother was soft-spoken and sharp-eyed. She could stitch a wound or a sleeve without blinking. People trusted her, but she never asked for thanks.
> She had a little brother, wild and fast. He was always running barefoot through the mud, catching frogs and scraping his knees. He would yell at clouds and laugh at goats.
> Her youngest sister was barely old enough to walk. She liked to chase fireflies, even when there weren't any.
> Their home was crooked, patched, and full of warmth.
> She had no affinity. No gift. No magic to her name.
> Other children in the village awakened spells by eight. Some swung swords like dancers. Others talked about going to the capital for training.
> She failed the aptitude test three times.
> She memorized every book the village had, but she could never form a single spell.
> She watched, quietly, as her friends outgrew her. They stopped waiting. They stopped looking back.
> Her parents never said they were disappointed.
> But sometimes, they were quiet when she entered the room.
> Still, she worked.
> She fetched water, helped with repairs, learned to bind books and boil herbs. She did not complain.
> She told her siblings stories by the fire.
> She promised them that one day she would make enough to take them far away from the dirt roads and slow winters.
> They believed her.
> She believed herself.
> The fire came in the dead of night.
> She smelled it before she heard it. Smoke, too thick, too fast.
> When she ran toward home, the roof had already collapsed.
> Her neighbors watched. Some screamed. Others just… stared.
> She tore through the flames. Her arms blistered. Her feet bled. But she reached the door.
> Inside, she found her sister first. Cold, but untouched, covered by her father's arms.
> Her brother had tried to crawl out. His hand was outstretched beneath a fallen beam. She held it until morning.
> Her mother had collapsed by the back window. Her eyes were still open.
> There was no rescue team.
> There was no mage to undo what had burned.
> The mayor called it a tragedy. Bandits, maybe. Stray magic. They buried the bodies quickly. Quietly. The town moved on.
> She didn't.
> She stayed behind.
> In the ruins.
> She dug through ash for weeks.
> She tried to rebuild their house with her bare hands. The burns never fully healed.
> She stopped speaking. People gave her food. Sometimes. More often, they crossed the road when she passed.
> "Ghost girl."
> "Ash-face."
> "Burned."
> Her reflection became unrecognizable. Her right cheek was melted discolored and twisted where infection had eaten through. One eye stayed swollen. Her hair thinned and never returned.
> Winter came.
> She slept beneath what was left of the roof. She wrapped herself in old cloth and held her baby sister's scarf like it could still make her laugh.
> No one checked on her.
> No one remembered what she'd promised.
> She buried herself in silence.
> And eventually, even that felt too loud.
> Her name disappeared from records.
> Her house was erased from maps.
> And yet she lived.
> Not because she wanted to.
> But because she hadn't yet found the right reason not to.
> Until one day
The carvings stopped.
The last line ended with a faint crack in the stone, jagged and sudden, as if whatever came next had been violently interrupted—or left unfinished on purpose.
Kathlyn stared at it.
She didn't speak.
She didn't move.
And a tear dropped from one of her eyes which she rubbed at furiously she wasn't crying because it was paticularly heart moving
It was due to the harshness of fate a fate she personally wanted to fight tooth and nail against