The day had finally come.
Across the world, cities stirred with a restless energy unlike any other. Streets buzzed with excitement, tension, and whispered prayers. Public screens glowed brighter than usual, replaying the same announcement again and again. For many, today represented hope an impossible dream given form. For others, it was a final gamble.
The entrance examination of Aurelian High School had begun.
In every major region, Aurelian staff arrived before dawn. Their presence alone drew silence. Clad in identical dark uniforms, faces unreadable, movements precise, they carried with them an authority that felt heavier than law. No smiles. No greetings. No explanations beyond what was necessary.
This was not a test meant to comfort.
Massive examination halls were prepared across regions,Stella in the south, Glacia in the north, and countless others scattered across the world. Tens of thousands of seventeen-year-olds were ushered inside, each one seated far enough apart to feel alone even in a crowd.
No talking.
No devices.
No second chances.
The doors sealed shut with a dull echo.
In Stella, the atmosphere was suffocating. Students shifted in their seats, palms damp, hearts racing. Some stared ahead with determination; others avoided looking at the paper placed face-down on their desks, as if afraid it might bite.
At the front of the hall, an Aurelian staff member stepped forward.
"The written examination consists of one hundred questions," the staff member announced, voice cold and even. "You have two hours."
A pause.
"For every incorrect answer, points will be deducted."
Another pause—longer this time.
"For every unanswered question, points will also be deducted."
A ripple of unease spread through the hall.
"This exam is designed to evaluate not only intelligence, but judgment under pressure. Answer everything. Or suffer the consequences."
No encouragement followed. No reassurance.
The papers were flipped.
And chaos began—silently.
Questions filled the pages, dense and merciless.
They weren't simple academic problems. Mathematics twisted into logic traps. Ethics bled into strategy. Scenarios demanded decisions with no correct answer only outcomes and consequences. Some questions contradicted others. Some required assumptions that felt intentionally incomplete.
Students' confidence was shattered within minutes.
'This isn't fair…'
'How am I supposed to know this?'
'There's no right choice—only losses…'
Pens scratched desperately across paper. Some students froze entirely, eyes darting between the clock and the questions, breath shallow. Others answered at random, panic outweighing reason.
A boy in the third row clenched his hair, staring at a single question for five straight minutes. A girl near the back bit her lip until it bled, hands trembling as she guessed answers just to fill the page.
This exam didn't test what you knew.
It tested how you broke.
Somewhere else, Jay sat calmly, his posture relaxed, his eyes steady as they scanned the page.
'So this is it…'
He understood quickly.
They're not testing knowledge. They're filtering extremes.
Overconfidence. Fear. Hesitation. Recklessness.
Each question was a snare, designed to expose instinct. He didn't rush. He didn't linger. When certainty wasn't possible, he chose the answer with the least long-term consequence. When forced to guess, he did so deliberately.
'Minus points for everything… clever.'
It forced commitment. Forced risk.
He moved on the moment doubt lingered too long. Control mattered more than perfection. He kept his breathing steady, ignoring the tension pressing down on the room.
Elsewhere in Stella, Aric leaned back slightly in his chair, pen moving fast.
Hmph. Overcomplicated nonsense.
He scoffed internally at the first few questions, answering with confidence bordering on arrogance. Around him, students struggled, and the sight only fed his pride.
'Of course, they'd falter.'
But as time passed, his expression tightened.
Some questions irritated him. Too vague. Too indirect. He hated uncertainty hated being forced to choose without dominance or clarity.
'This exam dares to question me?'
His grip on the pen tightened, irritation simmering beneath his calm exterior. Still, he answered every question. Leaving one blank was unthinkable.
He would not fall behind.
Far to the north, in Glacia, silence reigned supreme.
Neva sat perfectly straight, her movements minimal, eyes cool and unwavering. She read each question fully once, twice before writing a single word. No emotion crossed her face. No hesitation betrayed her thoughts.
Uncertainty is expected, she reasoned calmly. Fear is inefficient.
Where others panicked, she accepted. Where others rushed, she endured. Her answers were measured, balanced, disciplined.
The cold of Glacia had taught her well.
Time bled away faster than anyone expected.
"Ten minutes remaining."
The announcement hit like a hammer.
Students scribbled frantically. Some cursed under their breath. Others stared at unanswered questions with hollow eyes, forced to choose blindly.
Pens dropped. Hands shook.
"Time is up."
The words echoed mercilessly.
"Stop writing."
Aurelian staff moved through the halls, collecting papers without a glance, without judgment. The exam was over but its weight lingered heavily in the air.
Some students slumped in relief.
Some stared forward in silence.
Some lowered their heads, already convinced they had failed.
Jay exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair.
'It's done.'
Aric clicked his tongue, displeased but confident.
Neva closed her eyes for a brief second—nothing more.
Across all regions, the announcement followed shortly after.
"The results of the written examination will be published in a week. Only the top one thousand candidates will advance to the next stage."
Only a week.
Hope and dread intertwined.
The first gate of Aurelian had closed.
And most of the world didn't yet realize they had already been filtered out.