After C04 said his farewells, Oren slowly got ready.
He had a short amount of time before the assembly, so he decided to examine his body.
Dropping his robes to his waist, he hastily unravelled the bandages across his upper body before continuing down to his knees.
Then he suddenly froze, noticing something off.
He leaned into his arm and sniffed twice.
'There's no odour. No scent of blood?'
It made sense in a way.
There was no smell because Oren had been washed.
His body would have needed to be fully cleansed before any operation to prevent bacteria from growing and causing him harm, possibly even preventing a full, complete recovery.
But as Oren looked down at his masculine body, he suppressed a surprised expression, letting out a sigh of relief.
His body held no scars from the fall. It had forgotten the pain just as well as he remembered it.
His physique, on the other hand, maintained its shape, lean, athletic, and dominant, no less defined than before.
But his skin complexion seemed to have paled a shade, and his dark hair was noticeably shorter than before.
But what had changed most were his eyes. If he could only see them, it was as though the illustrious golden was fading ever so slowly.
'Ah, what a magician,' Oren thought as he changed into the academy robes left for him in the wardrobe.
Were every human here like this?
Shortly after, he left the guest room on an arduous search for the assembly hall.
'Now I'm finally alone.'
Having enough time to regulate his ineffable emotions, Oren no longer felt the apathy he once did upon waking, nor the happiness of surviving.
He was grateful, but that did not capture the lingering emotions.
The emotions humans experienced were vast—longing, happiness, sadness, hope and despair, doubt, fear, and excitement.
Oren was familiar with all of them. But he failed to grasp this feeling. That was what confused him the most.
All he knew was that the gravity in the ruined realm was different from that of his home.
The air and atmosphere had changed too, strong and dominant, thick and suffocating, yet the people outside the academy walls walked as though it were natural.
But to him it wasn't.
It seemed he would only grow accustomed to it with time, but how much time did he truly have?
'A century?' he thought bitterly.
And though this might remain unchanged across other realms, it stirred a morbid curiosity within Oren.
To remain nearly unaffected while still being aware of such changes, he would have to adapt significantly.
'But how? Have I really changed that much...?'
Or did C04 change him, that peculiar man? What had he done to heal him? Was it connected to the enlightenment he spoke of, or was it tied to it?
Oren did not know how much of this information he could trust yet.
But one fact remained, C04 had saved him, and participating in this academy was out of gratitude and benefit.
"Don't disappoint me, Oren." The words lingered for a moment before he let them fade with a quiet sigh.
Oren stepped into yet another hallway that left him perplexed.
"This building is structured backwards. No, does it even have a layout?"
An hour had passed.
By now, he should have reached the hall even without knowing its location.
Oren knew it was strange for such a modern building lying in the outskirts.
But what piqued his interest was that the uncanny, cathedral-like structure was anything but ordinary.
From outside, it appeared to be a old religious residence, plain in structure. But it was quite the opposite.
Inside, it was modern, complex, expanding far beyond what its exterior suggested.
Its scale felt disproportionate, the building held hundreds of rooms, something that should been impossible.
But it was though the space within its walls had been altered. Hallways dragged on. Small and large windows followed along the wall in random spaces.
Most corners led to endless staircases.
Doors lined the walls at regular intervals, each identical to the last, making him feel like he was in an ever-changing maze.
'Damn it, I'm really going to be late on my first day here!'
It wasn't a good look, but it wasn't like he cared about it. Still, with the trial approaching, the people would only grow more judgmental, and their emotions would fluctuate too.
Since Oren was unaware of their etiquette, opinions, and social standards, his actions could have significant consequences on his lodging and safety.
He took a step forward, then froze. Something moved in the corner of his eye.
Turning toward the clear window, Oren looked at the world beyond.
The light outside was a radiant crimson, yet it did nothing to improve the worn streets beneath it.
From the academy hallway, Oren had a clear view of the streets below. Their roads worn and uneven, buildings tattered and abandoned.
A faint warmth spread through his chest, unwanted and quiet, as his attention locked onto the mortals below, moving in scattered groups through the streets.
'So many of them...'
There, a maze of streets interlapped. From where he stood, the connecting route of the academy led straight to the centre of Market Street, where a wide circular clearing lay.
Abandoned buildings bordered it, their walls cracked and worn, aged not only by time but the sullen atmosphere of poverty.
Vendors set up banners and tables along the edges, and at the heart of the clearing, metal poles marked out a grand tent.
Both men and women drove stakes into the ground with practised precision, setting up stands and stalls. Most were doing manual labour, yet they all wore their best attire.
Oren watched in silence as nearby performers rehearsed acrobatics by the tent's entrance, entertaining onlookers while preparing for their upcoming shows.
'A festival preparation...' Oren mused.
But the scale of it, for such a poor place, suggested more than a simple celebration. It was too grand, too much organisation.
He eventually dismissed the scene and, after searching the complex corridors, arrived at the academy hall.
With a satisfied smile, he stared at what lay before him.
Two giant doors sat quietly at the end of the hall, unmoved, as though guarding the room. Painted dark brown, their frames were embedded with runes he could not decipher.
The entrance to the assembly hall.
Without a second thought, Oren stepped forward and gripped the doorknob.
The sturdy oak frame groaned as he opened the ancient wood and entered the embrace of the academy hall.
...
The room was filled with around two hundred humans.
No, 'Candidates.'
They sat in rows of chairs, perfectly still, beneath a towering wall of paintings that seemed to watch over them rather than decorate the space.
Only a few chandeliers remained lit. The rest had been extinguished, whether by students or teachers was unclear, leaving the hall broken into uneven pockets of light and shadow.
Upon entering the room, a faint rustle of robes swept through the hall.
The marked, unevenly planned floor trembled as he walked.
Oren's careful gaze swept across the vast room at once.
At the front of the hall stood a man who preached proudly, his presence carrying the dominance of experience.
The man's features were aged yet strangely youthful, an unwrinkled face, rugged eyes as blue as the sea, and jet-black hair streaked with grey.
Oren traced every scar across the face of the man the mortals called Elder Idris.
To be honest, he was surprised. He had thought they, especially the elders, would surely have questions about the damage he had caused.
Instead, Oren was met with the oppressive stares of young men and women he had dismissed.
'Come on. Being late is not that bad, is it?'
Being stared at like this, it was not just their curiosity.
Their gazes were filled with contempt.
'Should I have come here?'
He had never been looked at like that for being late. On the other hand, it gave him insight that he shouldn't be late again.
Walking down the central aisle, Oren cut through the left aisle and stumbled through the narrow rows of students, ignoring the whispers.
"Who is that? Wait a minute, how dare he be late!"
"What? A new candidate... late? How could someone dishonour the entrance assembly? The humble elders have granted us a chance, and you dare ruin it?"
From across the room, he heard another shout. It was a man, seemingly older than the others.
"Is this candidate even from one of our families or clans? What is his name? I have never seen him before."
"Maybe he is from your lowly Xen clan, old man Renu Xen. Who cares if he is not part of a clan."
The young woman's shout was the final one heard by all, making every candidate glance at Oren's shifting silhouette.
"So there is a cathedral inside this place... still, a cathedral in a school?" Oren chuckled, then instantly went quiet beneath the gazes.
Somehow, his cold expression did not waver.
He knew he would draw attention for being late, but this was simply unfair.
The whispers grew louder and louder, until even the elder's voice could no longer be heard.
Oren remained standing, searching for a seat among the several rows of seated candidates.
'Why are there no seats?'
Oren stumbled, accidentally treading on the a young girl's foot.
Giving her an apologetic smile, he carefully moved through the rows of students, and eventually found a seat at the back, closer to the entrance than the elder at the front of the room.
A small brass plate was fixed to the chair.
'Fourteen.'
The boy beside him had Fifteen ingraved into his brass plate, and the next had Sixteen.
As Oren sat down, Elder Idris straightened his posture, his blue eyes already fixed on him, drained of patience.
His stern voice cut through the whispers that pervaded the room.
"SILENCE!"
The murmurs died instantly.
He offered Oren a brief, knowing smile before continuing.
"I will resume the lecture. We are short on time, so find someone who can update you on what we covered earlier."
Around Oren, the candidates straightened in their seats, eyes frozen forward as if carved from stone.
Oren heard another voice. Not the elder's, but a strangely shy one, yet proud enough to be mistaken for royalty.
"You're late? I am Sable, Candidate Fifteen. It is a pleasure to meet you."
The boy beside him had dirty blonde hair, overgrown but perfectly neat and carefully kept.
Whilst he did not seem as imposing as C04, the young man's blurry blue eyes were filled with an honesty so pure it felt fake.
Oren's body stiffened, then relaxed as he let out a deep breath.
"My name is Oren. It is a pleasure to meet you too."
The whispers and gazes Oren attracted did not seem to bother Sable.
Instead, Sable repeated Oren's name tentatively.
"Oren, what a pleasant name."
He brushed off the compliment.
With no reply, Sable paused, then let out an exhausted sigh. "You are a new candidate?"
Sable stared at him with an unsure expression, making him feel as though he had been caught out. It felt as if the young man knew something Oren did not.
In the end, Oren asked, averting his gaze to the front of the room.
"Yes... I believe so. But to be honest, I don't even know what we are as 'candidates', what we do, or what this assembly is about.
Ah, its alri—
Elder idris stared at sable, the clicked his tongue and looked away. After a short moment he lowered his voice to a whisper and continued.
"It's alright. I am a little clueless myself, but I did catch a bit of what the elder explained."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice.
"Right now, we are in the assembly to be assessed. I do not know how or why though, but the actual examination is scheduled for a week from now."
He paused, then added with a silent breath.
"I think that's what he said… though some were against it. He called it the entrance trial... The Trial Of longing."