As the ritual drew to a quiet close, the glow of the Blessing Crystal finally faded, vanishing like morning mist after a storm. The chamber dimmed, settling back into its natural state.
One by one, the six stirred, their eyes slowly opening.
They looked... different.
Their bodies had matured slightly. A subtle power now buzzed beneath their skin. Their posture shifted unconsciously—stronger, more grounded. And most of all, their eyes now carried clarity.
Each of them now stood at the Soldier Rank—the first and most important step for all newly Awakened in the Empire. Their aura signatures, though still raw and untrained, were unmistakably real.
Fenric stepped forward, his voice calm yet commanding.
"You’ve awakened. That much is clear. Now—tell me. What class did you receive?"
Selene stepped up first. A faint breeze still fluttered the hem of her robes.
"Wind Duelist, Your Highness."
Fenric gave a small nod. "Fitting."
Lyra came next. Her eyes were a little darker than before, her voice soft but sure.
Fenric looked at her with quiet interest. "You’ll need guidance. The darker paths can consume the unprepared."
Then he added, "But if you can keep your mind intact, you may go further than most. Grave Whisperer is an Epic Class."
Calia stepped forward third. She didn’t say much—just tilted her head slightly, testing her senses.
"Shadow Queen," she said plainly.
"A Rare Class," Fenric confirmed. "Good. Work hard, and you may command real power one day."
She gave him a subtle smile and bowed.
Darin thumped a fist proudly against his chest. A coil of flame danced briefly around his forearm.
"Another Rare Class. Excellent," Fenric said with a nod.
Rek stepped up next, rolling his shoulders with a grin. One of his eyes gave off a faint green glow.
Fenric raised an eyebrow but kept his expression composed. "A body that endures nearly anything—if trained properly. A strong choice."
Finally, Eiden exhaled. A faint mist escaped his lips before fading into the air.
"Ice Soul Mage," he said, standing with the stillness of frozen winter.
Fenric turned away from them, walking toward a corridor leading deeper into the estate.
"All of you," he said over his shoulder, "have taken your first step toward greatness."
He led them down a hall into another chamber, where Roman stood beside a stone platform. A glowing circle had been prepared on the floor, etched in old runes—meant for oaths and ancient vows.
"Roman," Fenric ordered, "guide them through the Oath of Knighthood."
Roman bowed and stepped forward, his expression solemn.
"This is your last chance," Fenric said as he turned back to them. "You can still walk away. But if you take this oath—your lives are no longer your own."
His voice was low, but steady. "Your loyalty becomes mine. Your blades, mine. Your fate—bound to the will of House Vaelthorn Vareldis."
Not a single one stepped back.
One after another, they dropped to a knee, hands placed over their hearts.
Roman began the vow, and they repeated each line:
"By blade and breath, by blood and soul—
I pledge myself to the will of Fenric Vaelthorn Vareldis.
My life is his to command,
My strength, his to wield,
My oath, bound not by fear, but by loyalty.
Let my soul shatter if I break this vow,
For I now walk the path of the Knight."
As the final words echoed through the chamber, a soft wave of energy swept through the room.
The Oath had taken hold.
A golden crest pulsed faintly above each of their hearts before vanishing—proof the vow was sealed.
From that moment on, loyalty was no longer a matter of choice.
It was an unbreakable fact.
Fenric clapped once, signaling the ceremony’s end.
"Good," he said as he rose. "Now that the oath is sealed, we move to the next phase."
"Draw the summoning circle again. The Spirit Summoning one."
Roman gave a short nod, and Myria, already anticipating the command, moved to assist. The circle had only been used once before, but they had prepared it for tonight’s second use.
Ten minutes of focused silence, as glowing runes re-formed across the stone floor, drawing lines of silver and white light in sacred patterns.
When it was ready, Fenric turned.
"Roman," he said, "bring out the monster core. A dark-type. Superhuman level or above."
Roman gave a silent nod and turned to leave. Fenric motioned for Myria to accompany him.
The two knights left together without delay.
Fenric, now seated near the edge of the chamber, regarded the remaining six with his usual calm.
"Before we go further," he said, "I need clarity."
His gaze swept over them.
"You’ve all awakened. You’ve gained your classes. But what path will you walk from here?"
He pointed toward Selene, Darin, and Rek.
"You three—Aura wielders, correct?"
They nodded together.
"All of us have shown Aura signs," Selene confirmed.
He turned next to Lyra and Eiden. "And you two are Mages?"
They nodded as well—Eiden immediately, Lyra a touch slower.
"And you," he said, turning to Calia, "yours is a Spirit-based class, isn’t it?"
Calia stiffened. She hadn’t said anything about that. Not out loud.
"How... how do you know?" she asked.
Fenric didn’t answer.
He tapped the armrest once, then said, "For you, Calia, this is crucial. Without a Spirit contract, your class won’t evolve. You’ll remain stagnant."
Calia nodded slowly. She already suspected it. Her class—Shadow Queen—required a Spirit Bond to grow. Without it, she’d be stuck at the base level, unable to advance.
Just then, Roman and Myria returned.
Roman carried a sealed obsidian sphere about the size of a child’s head. Inside swirled a volatile blend of dark violet, deep black, and streaks of emerald energy—alive with eerie motion.
Roman knelt and presented it.
"The core, Your Highness," he said. "From an Abyss Poison Serpent, slain near the outer marsh."
Fenric stood and approached, peering down at it with interest.