“Repeat that one more time,” I said, my breath ragged as I sprinted through the twisting maze. The walls closed in, shifting at strange intervals, making it harder to keep my bearings.

  “I do not enjoy repeating myself, boy. For the tenth time, your ability is nothing! You have no magic!” Haedon’s voice echoed in my head, the frustration clear.

  “There’s no way that’s true!” I shot back, panic creeping into my voice.

  “Goblin gave me the test. I awakened my Heartile, and I’ve been on the verge of fully awakening my typing for what feels like forever now! There’s no way I have nothing!” My words were loud, but inside, I was afraid. Could he be right?

  “Hmm…” Haedon let out an exasperated breath. “I suppose it would be inaccurate to say you have no magical ability.” There was a pause. “Stop running, boy.”

  Despite myself, my feet froze in place. The frantic pounding of my heart slowed to a steady rhythm, my breathing evening out.

  “To be honest, I laughed to make you feel bad,” he continued, his tone less harsh but still amused.

  ‘Of course you did,’ I thought bitterly.

  “Do not interrupt me again, boy,” Haedon snapped, clearly irritated. “As I was saying, I laughed because when I checked your danatian, I thought I saw nothing.”

  ‘Danatian?’ I made a mental note to ask later, even though it was likely Haedon wouldn’t bother explaining.

  “There is something dormant inside you,” he said, his voice a strange mixture of curiosity and caution. “Whether it is harmful or helpful, I cannot say. But it seems to be the reason for your sluggish progression and inability to produce magic.”

  “Doesn’t that make it a bad thing then? It’s keeping me weak!” I shouted, feeling the walls of the maze closing in again, even though they hadn’t moved. The fear of being powerless gnawed at me. Was I just some anomaly destined to fail?

  “Sorry,” I muttered, trying to keep my frustration in check.

  “That will be the last time I allow your insolence,” Haedon warned. Suddenly, a swirl of mist coalesced at my feet, and from it, a skinny, white cat emerged. It stretched lazily before fixing me with its piercing black eyes.

  “The reason I cannot tell whether it’s helpful or harmful is simple,” Haedon said, now in the form of this unsettling feline. “While it blocks your power, it also turns your body into a funnel, drawing in Qi from the surrounding environment at an unnatural rate. This explains your prolonged lifespan and why your aura is unlike any other warrior’s.”

  My mind raced to process what he was saying. The words weren’t making complete sense, but somehow I understood them. Qi—the word rolled around in my head like something half-remembered but foreign.

  “You are connected to Qi itself,” Haedon continued, his tone softer, but no less serious. “Not in a way that allows you to grow rapidly or infinitely, but you possess potential. The kind of potential that could tip the balance of power in unimaginable ways.”

  The implications were huge, yet they only raised more questions. But one thing stood out starkly.

  “So, what you’re saying is that my power is basically useless right now?” My voice broke the tension, frustration leaking through. “All I’ve done is work myself to the bone trying to awaken it, and for what? This ‘gift’ is just a curse slowing me down.”

  “Gift?” Haedon snorted, his tail flicking dismissively.

  “You’re a fool if you can’t see what you’ve been given. The very essence of life itself flows through you. Once you master control over it, you could rise above the entire world. Well, almost the entire world.” The cat’s lips curled into what could only be described as a smug smile.

  My heart skipped a beat. Could this be real? Could I really rise to the top despite this curse? I reached out, grabbing Haedon, lifting the small white cat into the air, ignoring his protests.

  “Are you serious?” I asked, hope creeping into my voice. “You really think I could be that strong?”

  “Unhand me, you imbecile!” Haedon’s body flailed helplessly, his voice now shrill. “Put me down this instant or—”

  “Answer the question,” I pressed, unable to hide my grin. “Then I’ll think about putting you down.”

  “I already swore it on my honor, you idiot! What possible reason would I have to lie?” He squirmed until I finally placed him back on the ground.

  “Qi is not just some battery you foolish humans tap into! It is the foundation of all existence! And you’re treating it like a child fumbling with a toy.”

  “So… how long do you think it’ll take me to master this control?” I asked, setting him down and bouncing on my toes with excitement. “A year? Maybe a few months?”

  The cat burst into laughter, rolling on the ground, his tiny paws flailing in the air. “A few months? You truly are an idiot!” He wheezed, eventually pulling himself up. “You think you can master Qi, something so boundless and mysterious, in a few months? Ha! If you manage to grasp even half of it, you’ll be unstoppable. But full mastery? Not even a god could achieve that.”

  I huffed, my enthusiasm deflated. “Then what’s the point? If I can’t fully master it, why bother?”

  “I said your control, boy, not the control of Qi. There’s a difference,” Haedon explained, now standing more calmly. “Mastering your connection to Qi means you will wield incredible power, far beyond most. But full mastery? Only a fool would aim for that.”

  I paused, considering his words. I didn’t need to become a god, but the idea of tapping into something that powerful... it was hard not to dream big.

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  “Fine,” I said at last. “Two more questions, then I need to get back on track with this round. You’re going to answer them directly. No tricks, no roundabouts.”

  Haedon’s tail flicked in annoyance. “And why should I listen to you?”

  “Because if I’m right,” I said, my voice steady, “you’re stuck in that form because you spent too much energy fighting me, didn’t you? You pushed yourself into me so you could feed off my energy, right?”

  His silence spoke volumes. I had hit the mark, guessing based on every overused fantasy trope I’d ever read. Haedon needed me to survive, and he knew it.

  “First question,” I said, taking control of the situation. “How much mastery do I have over my Qi right now, in percentage terms?”

  He sighed, seemingly resigned to answer. “Barely 0.1 percent. It’s a laughable amount, really. As for how much it boosts your power? At 10 percent, you’d be untouchable in the lower realms. At 30 percent, you’d dominate the middle realms. At 60 percent, you’d be at the pinnacle of this world.”

  The numbers were both encouraging and discouraging. I had an idea of what I was capable of now, but I was so far from reaching any real strength that it felt like starting over.

  “Last question,” I said. “How many realms are there?”

  “There are three beginner realms, each with nine minor stages. Three middle realms, also with nine minor stages each. And finally, two higher realms with twenty minor stages in total. The gap between each major realm is so vast you can’t even comprehend it right now.”

  It was a lot to take in. Ninety-four minor stages in total, and I wasn’t even close to understanding what that truly meant.

  “Alright,” I said, rising to my feet. “Thanks, I guess. Even though I still feel pretty powerless, at least now I know I have something to work toward.”

  “Powerless?” Haedon snorted. “A waste of such potential on someone like you. But you are welcome, nonetheless.”

  I shook my head, half-smiling. “You have a weird obsession with honor, don’t you?”

  “A warrior is nothing without his honor!” Haedon declared proudly.

  As he ranted about honor, a nagging thought tugged at the back of my mind, something I’d forgotten to ask. But for the life of me, I couldn’t remember what it was. I pushed it aside, focusing on the task ahead.

  ?

  My fists moved in a blur, each punch landing with precision, striking the wolf’s vital points. Its growls turned to yelps as it stumbled back, panting heavily, its once brilliant aura flickering like a dying flame.

  I respected the beast’s resilience, but respect wouldn’t save it. My aura condensed, flowing into my arms, ready for the final blow. The wolf sensed my intent, crouching low, its muscles tensing for a desperate leap.

  We sprang at the same moment. I reached out, grabbing its front leg mid-air, while my free hand clamped down on its jaw, slamming it shut. As we hit the ground, I moved quickly, wrapping my arms around its neck and snapping it with one swift motion.

  Its body fell limp beneath me, but I didn’t hesitate. With a practiced motion, I channeled my aura into a sharp beam at my fingertips, carving into its carcass and retrieving the core.

  The taste of iron lingered in my mouth, and the sting of freshly healed wounds tingled beneath my torn clothes. My breath came in short, sharp bursts, though the fight was already over. I watched the lifeless body of the wolf at my feet, its once-glowing eyes now dull, its fur matted with sweat and blood. I wiped my brow, but it did little to relieve the exhaustion that draped over me like a lead cloak.

  "Five out of ten," Haedon said with his usual sharp tone, barely glancing at the fallen beast. "You dragged it for too long. Onto the next."

  He didn’t even pause for a response, already turning to walk away, his small, pale form moving with the silent arrogance that made my teeth grind. His white fur shimmered faintly in the fading light of the maze, and I had the urge to hurl something at him—not that it would do any good.

  "Haedon, wait!" I gasped, struggling to catch my breath. "That was the last one. They’ll be pulling me out at any second." I sat down hard on the dirt, feeling my body scream for rest.

  My vision blurred slightly as I looked down at the shallow bite marks covering my arms, legs, and torso. Some of the wounds had already closed, leaving raised, pink scars, but others still oozed faint trails of blood. The skin was raw where the rat-beasts had latched onto me, their jagged teeth digging deep. I pressed a hand against one of the deeper gashes, hissing in pain.

  For the past few hours, I had trudged through this maze of death, hunting down and being hunted by these beasts. At first, I was almost impressed—there was no apparent time limit, no immediate urgency pressing down on me like a suffocating blanket. It almost felt… manageable. But the moment I faced the first pack of rat beasts, I learned that "manageable" was an illusion.

  Finding them was easy. Killing them was another matter entirely.

  They were faster than I expected, and far more vicious. Their claws were razor-sharp, their beady eyes filled with relentless hunger. They swarmed like a flood, overwhelming me before I had time to react. My initial strategy had been a joke. It didn’t take long before my body became a canvas of fresh wounds and torn fabric.

  Haedon hadn’t lifted a single paw to help during that first pack. He’d just watched from the sidelines, silent. He let me get torn to pieces, as if it was a lesson in humility. It wasn’t until I was nearly on the brink of death, my consciousness fading in and out, that he finally decided to step in.

  "Strike now," he had said, his voice like gravel grinding against glass. "Aim for the neck. Weak point just below the skull."

  I’d followed his instructions, albeit with trembling hands and blurry vision. Somehow, I survived.

  After that, he took a more active role, guiding me in every encounter. "Watch your stance," he would bark. "Anticipate their movements. Don’t let them smell your fear." And as the fights continued, I slowly learned to read their patterns, to strike with more precision, to carve through their thick hides like I’d been doing it my whole life.

  He’d also started grading me after each kill. Ten points being perfect, zero being death. In the time we’d spent together, I’d never scored higher than a five. And it gnawed at me, though I tried not to let it show. Each failure was like another bite taken out of my pride.

  I flexed my hand, watching the faint glow of my aura dance between my fingers. It shimmered in a thin, barely visible beam, tracing delicate lines across the air. If I’d had more control, more mastery, maybe I could have turned it into something substantial—like a blade, or a spear. Something useful. But for now, it was just a trick. A fancy way to keep my hands clean while gutting a dead beast.

  “When your mastery grows, this will be second nature,” Haedon had told me during one of the fights. “Weapons born from your aura, sharper and deadlier than steel. A forgotten art, wasted on the weak-minded… What did you call them? Yes, Empo's. You, however... perhaps there's hope."

  But that day was far off, if it ever came at all. My control was still too raw, too unrefined to be anything more than a party trick. I sighed, staring down at the wolf’s corpse one last time.

  “Very well then,” Haedon’s voice cut through my thoughts, now softer but still laced with condescension. His tiny form was already dissolving into the black mist that accompanied his transformations. Within seconds, he was gone, back inside my head where he could watch—and criticize—my every move.

  I rolled my shoulders, trying to shake off the tension, and stood up. My legs felt like lead, the soreness creeping into every muscle. The maze around me began to shimmer, the walls and the ground losing their solidity, as if they were being unraveled by invisible hands.

  A small beam of light enveloped me, and I knew it was over. Round one. The maze was falling apart, dematerializing piece by piece. Soon, I’d be back outside.

  “If round one was that hard…” I muttered under my breath, watching as the last remnants of the maze disappeared into the void. "What the hell is round two going to be like?"

  I shuddered at the thought. Round one had nearly killed me, and the next round would undoubtedly be worse. Yet, as long as I didn’t die again—or almost die—that would be enough for me. I had to survive. I had to make it to The Academy.