Chapter 116: The Grand Selection [2]

Leon was staring at the two Assemblies with his chin in his hand.

The Celestials and Veyne. Both chose him.

"Veyne," he said.

Roselle blinked. "Not Celestial? You’re a mage."

"Yeah." He looked at his hand. "But my biggest weakness is close range. Every time someone gets inside my spell distance I lose the advantage." He glanced sideways at her. "Especially against you."

Roselle’s lips moved slightly. "That’s true."

"Thanks for agreeing so fast," he said, tired.

"Strengthening your body will help your mana output too," Roselle said. "It’s a reasonable choice."

"Right." He exhaled and looked toward the Assemblies. "Veyne it is."

The silver-purple fabric spread across his uniform, heavier in design than the Celestial patterns, built for someone who intends to hit things and be hit back. Leon looked down at the result.

"Not bad," he said.

Roselle straightened her coat one more time. She glanced at Leon, then at Alden, her expression carrying something warm underneath the composed surface.

"I’ll see both of you again." She turned toward Nicholas last. Her eyes held his for a moment, and she gave him a quick wink.

Nicholas’s expression settled into something quieter than usual.

Then Roselle stepped into her portal and disappeared.

Leon pointed at everyone who remained. "We’re meeting again after training! Don’t—"

The portal closed on the rest of the sentence.

The Grand selection continued.

"Next, Claire chosen by the Celestial."

"I am off, Alden," Claire said, turning to give him a brief wave, the silver-red of her uniform catching the light as she stepped forward.

Alden stared at the empty space where she had been standing a moment ago. He really could not finish a single goodbye.

"Nicholas."

Nicholas stepped forward.

He didn’t say anything first. He just reached for his sword.

The moment his hand closed around the hilt, something in the room changed. Not the heavy air of the Assemblies. Something that belonged specifically to him. The power that came off him was different from what it had been in the hallway or the front doors. Here, in this room with something to show, Nicholas was not holding anything back.

The Eternal Dragon came out of the blade.

Its ghost body uncoiled from the steel, huge and see-through and very clearly alive in whatever way a bound spirit is alive. It spread through the air above Nicholas in long sweeping lines, its presence adding a second layer to the heavy air without fighting the Assemblies. Just adding to it and saying here is what this man holds.

Nicholas moved.

He was not performing. That was the difference between this and showing off. He moved through the techniques the same way he always moved, with the practiced certainty of someone who has done these things thousands of times in empty training rooms at every hour. The dragon moved with him, not trailing him, not decorating the strikes. Part of them. The sword and the spirit and the swordsman all working as one coherent thing.

Strike. Pivot. Counter-arc. Footwork that changed the angle without broadcasting the change. The techniques built on each other, each one setting up the opening for the next, the whole sequence moving with the fluid logic of genuine mastery.

Alden watched without moving.

’That’s my MC,’ he thought, with a quiet satisfaction that had nothing to do with pride and everything to do with recognition.

Nicholas brought the sequence to a clean end and lowered the blade.

The chamber held its silence for one beat.

Then Aetherion’s hand rose.

Alden noted it. ’Veyne.’

Aurora’s hand followed.

Celestial.

Leonidas’ as well.

Empyreon.

Alden went still.

And then, slowly, with the specific deliberateness of something that moves on its own timeline entirely, Constantine raised his hand.

All four, every Assembly had chosen Nicholas.

The chamber was completely quiet.

Nicholas looked up at them. His expression was calm, but there was a surprise in his eyes that he hadn’t been prepared for and wasn’t entirely hiding.

Alden let a slow smile come through. Good. He earned that.

Alarion’s voice carried into the stillness. "All four Assemblies have chosen you, Nicholas. Which one will you join? The choice is yours to make."

Nicholas took a breath. His eyes moved from one deity to the next, taking them in one at a time. Then they settled on Leonidas.

"I want to learn more about swordsmanship," he said. "I still don’t know anything about it yet. About different techniques, things I haven’t encountered yet." He looked at the Empyreon Assembly directly. "I’ll choose Empyreon."

Leonidas’s golden eyes shifted in the faintest, barely visible way.

The silver-blue uniform came for Nicholas next. It moved across him cleanly, the Empyreon design settling on him with the specific look of something that had been waiting for exactly this person.

Nicholas sheathed his sword.

He looked at Alden.

"All the best, Alden." he said, and the smile on his face was the honest kind, the one without any of the old suspicion in it. He raised his fist. "Let’s meet again during the war."

Alden gave him a small nod. "You too, Nicholas."

Nicholas turned and stepped into the portal.

He was gone.

The chamber was quiet in a new way now. It was the quiet of a place that used to be full of people, and was now almost empty.

Alarion looked down.

"The next and final cadet."

His eyes settled on Alden.

"Alden."

Alden stepped forward.

His footsteps crossed the marble floor and echoed off the walls in the stillness. He walked to the center of the basin and stopped beneath the four Assemblies.

Eight eyes settled on him from above.

Plus Constantine’s third, still sealed.

He felt all of them.

He looked up at Aetherion. Then Aurora. Then Leonidas. Then Constantine.

The weight of their gaze bore down on him with immense force, threatening to bend his spine and drag his shoulders down.

His head was forced lower under the crushing strain, yet he refused to yield, locking his legs and standing firm in the center of the room. Compared to the six who had stood before him, the pressure pressing down on his shoulders was far heavier this time.

He exhaled slowly.

Okay.

His hands relaxed at his sides. His eyes sharpened.

Now it’s my turn.