Will of the Battlefield

Days passed enjoyably for Thane and his group. The wounded got back to health. The healthy relaxed, and those who were stressed over everything started submitting themselves to fate.

And finally, the day of selection had arrived to determine their fate and future.

The Grand Hall of Aspirants, which had witnessed weeks of blood, sweat, tears, and shattered dreams, now stood adorned in banners of every academy in Bentram Kingdom.

Rows upon rows of seats stretched across the immense chamber. Thousands of candidates filled them, each bearing a different expression.

At the front, upon an elevated platform of polished white stone, sat the principals.

Ten grand chairs occupied the highest tier. The Top Ten Academies, the dream of every aspirant.

Behind them, arranged in descending order, sat hundreds of other principals and instructors from lesser academies spread throughout the kingdoms.

The guest candidates from foreign nations were notably absent.

Etno Kamsi had departed for Krynova several days ago. News of the war had accelerated his return, or perhaps there was another reason.

"A son of the Kamsi family could not remain abroad while his homeland marched to battle," they said. What, till a few days ago, was supposed to be a secret assault was now common talk among common men.

Though, for those who were of Bentrami birth, the whole situation did not mean much.

Donovan Young had also left. Though his wounds had mostly healed, his pride had not. Nor had his teeth regrown, at least not yet.

He departed under heavy escort, his face cold and silent.

No farewell had been given. Not a single individual mourned his departure.

The hall slowly quieted as a silver-haired official stepped forward.

He unfurled a scroll. "Academy selection shall now commence," he announced in a slow, firm tone.

The old man’s voice echoed through the vast chamber. "When your name is called, step forth. If one or more principals raise their hands, you may choose freely your desired destination."

"Once your decision is made, it cannot be changed," he warned.

Murmurs spread as the first names were called.

One by one, candidates approached the center.

Some received offers from several academies, others only one.

A few received none at all. Those unfortunate souls often left the center with trembling hands and hollow eyes.

As hours passed, the tension only increased. Then a name was called. "Rimon Gill."

Thane immediately rose from his seat. "Rimon! Go break their heads!"

Several nearby candidates jumped. Rimon nearly stumbled as he began his march.

The young man turned around. "Please don’t shout." His hands clasped together, eyes pleading.

"Why?"

"Everyone is looking," Rimon nervously said.

Thane blinked in confusion and then clicked his tongue. "That’s good. They’ll know you’re strong."

Rimon looked as though he wished the ground would swallow him.

Nevertheless, he straightened his clothes and walked toward the center.

His steps were hesitant. Unlike Thane, Rimon had no monstrous physique.

No overwhelming victories or glorious reputation.

He had survived and only persevered. Would that be enough?

The principals began reading the reports before them.

Papers shifted as eyes scanned pages. Occasionally, a few instructors whispered among themselves.

The silence stretched.

His heart pounded against his ribs. He could hear his own heartbeat. Rimon’s hands slowly clenched.

To his astonishment, not a single hand rose among the Top Ten. Not one.

The realization struck him like a physical blow. Rimon lowered his head. He had expected little.

Yet some foolish part of him had still hoped. Hope was cruel. One of the lesser academy principals raised a hand.

Then another. Soon, nearly a dozen academies from outside the Top Ten expressed interest.

The official nodded. "Candidate Rimon Gill, choose."

Rimon hesitated only briefly.

He selected Ironwood Academy, a respectable institution known for producing scouts and rangers.

It was not glorious, but it was still an academy.

A path forward. As he returned, Thane greeted him with a broad grin. "You got in!"

Rimon forced a weak smile. "I did."

"It’ll be great." Thane tapped his shoulder.

"Hopefully."

Thane slapped his back hard enough to nearly send him tumbling. "It definitely will!"

Rimon somehow smiled for real. Perhaps it would.

The selection continued.

More names. More dreams. More disappointments.

Then the official called once more.

"Sky Ressler."

Sky flinched. Her body froze. The agile young woman inhaled slowly.

Moments earlier, she had watched Rimon return without receiving recognition from the elite academies.

Now her own heart pounded against her ribs. She hesitantly rose.

"Good luck," Rimon said softly.

Sky nodded. "Thanks."

Thane gave a thumbs-up. "Punch them if they say no."

Several people nearby stared. Sky decided to ignore him.

She walked toward the center with confidence and grace.

At least outwardly. Inside, her thoughts churned.

She had fought well, she knew that. Yet she had never truly shone.

Whenever people discussed the tournament, they spoke of Thane. The giant. The champion.

Those who fought beside him inevitably became shadows.

Background figures and companions. Nothing more.

The principals examined her records. Comments were exchanged.

Assessments were discussed. The waiting felt endless.

Then reality arrived. No hand rose among the Top Ten.

Her heart sank. Not because she had expected acceptance.

Because she had hoped, she had hoped that somewhere, someone had noticed her.

Apparently not. Several lesser academies eventually raised their hands.

She selected Windcrest Academy after only brief consideration.

As she returned, she wore a smile. It was not entirely genuine.

Thane immediately noticed. "You lost?"

Sky blinked. "No."

"Then why do you look sad?" She laughed despite herself.

"Because you’re an idiot."

"That’s not nice." Thane frowned.

"No," she agreed softly. "It isn’t."

Yet she appreciated the concern. Perhaps more than she expected.

Hours passed.

The sunlight entering through the hall’s high windows gradually shifted.

Then a familiar name echoed through the chamber.

"Conor Fury."

The response was immediate. Whispers erupted everywhere, and from them, Conor stood.

Unlike before, there were no traces of uncertainty within him.

He had fought, bled, and lost.

Yet somewhere along the way, he had changed.

The young noble walked confidently toward the center.

The principals opened his reports. For a moment, not a single person moved. No one raised a hand.

There was only a long stretch of awkward silence and eyes darting back and forth in question.

Before a sudden hand rose. Blue Leaf Academy.

Another. Golden Crown Academy.

Then another. Black Pearl Academy.

And another. One after another, every single principal seated among the Top Ten raised a hand.

The hall erupted in gasps, cheers, and disbelief.

All ten. Every single one. Such a thing was exceedingly rare, happening barely once or twice in each generation.

Conor Fury stood frozen. Even he had not expected this.

The official smiled for the first time since the beginning of the selection. "Candidate Conor Fury. You may choose."

Conor raised a hand in uncertainty.

The hall quieted the moment Conor moved, turning his gaze back to the principals.

Instead, he looked toward the crowd.

Toward a certain giant sitting there with a stupid smile on his face.

Thane waved enthusiastically. Conor laughed softly. Then he turned toward the principals.

"My gratitude to all esteemed academies," he bowed respectfully. "I am deeply honored."

Several principals nodded approvingly.

Then Conor continued. "However..."

The entire hall became silent.

"I have already made my decision," Conor smiled.

He pointed at Thane behind him before giving his final decision. "I shall enroll in whichever academy Thane chooses."

Silence. Utter silence. A dropped pin could have been heard.

Then chaos exploded.

"What?"

"He what?!"

"Has he gone mad?"

The lesser candidates erupted in disbelief. Even several principals looked astonished.

Thane himself stood up. Max, who was also in the crowd but failed to unite with Thane, heard and raised his brows. He felt challenged. A new variable had shown up against all expectations.

Conor looked back, meeting Thane’s gaze. His answer came easily. "Because heroes shouldn’t walk alone."

The hall quieted once more. Conor’s smile widened. "And because if I don’t stay close, you’ll probably get lost on the way to class."

For a moment, silence lingered. Then laughter thundered through the hall.

After the incident, Thane was trolled for his nonexistent sense of direction. A few tried to say it to his face and instantly regretted it as a giant hand fell casually on their shoulders, nearly dislocating them effortlessly.

Even several stern principals failed to suppress smiles.

Thane shrugged. He looked irritated. He wanted to punch Conor, but it was meaningless now... He had already chosen his way forward regardless of the consequence.

And somewhere among the principals, more than a few suddenly became far more interested in recruiting a certain giant.

Because it was becoming increasingly obvious. Sky commented, "The principals now think it’s a buy-one-get-one-free offer?" poking Thane with her elbow.

Thane, who never had a chance of buying groceries in the city, did not understand what she meant.

Though it was now obvious that Thane Ironforge possessed something rare, not merely talent or merely strength.

A character that attracted people. They followed him. And that, perhaps, was the greatest gift of all.