Chapter 17: Class Trial
Approximately eight million people dwelt within the reinforced walls of Seynhold, with a good part of the population being ascendants. Being a Tier-5 city, Seynhold sported a vast expanse of land, all crammed with magnificent columns and edifices, akin to the pre-Victorian era, though with a more brutalist touch to the more grand structures.
At least, the area Ember and his family lived in was proportionally vacant.
Well, Blackstone was a prestigious clan of Knights. They could not be compared to the three Bloodline Clans of Oberon, Renin, or Killjoy, but over the years, House Blackstone had completed various meritorious deeds, granting them a rich plot of land on which to build their clan. There were definitely busier and more crammed streets only blocks away from the main house.
Now, eight million might seem a lot for a single city, but when one considered all the other people who lived just outside the walls in various towns and outposts, their number could very well be ten times higher. Give or take, there were about 100 million people whose lives were dependent on the city.
Every year, there were hundreds of thousands of people who went through their class ascension, be it inside or outside the walls. Among those hundreds of thousands, only a mere six hundred got to enter the Trial. Of that number, about 500 of those spots were distributed to the bloodline and noble clans. The rest were selected from the common folk.
It was how the rich stayed richer, and the powerful clans maintained the status quo. Ember wanted to complain, though he did not know how to feel about that when his own family was benefiting from it.
House Blackstone had received eight slots this year, four from House Oberon and four they received through serving Seynhold. Rain got one of those slots, and rightly so, given her standing in the younger generation of the clan.
These class trials were essential for anyone who had any hopes of gaining the more prestigious classes. Of course, there were chances of getting a good class outside the trial if one’s race and mana foundation were adequate, but distinguishing oneself in the trials would always provide a better result.
His mother did not get the chance in her time, only getting the Cook class once she turned fourteen. His father, on the other hand, had been one of the champions of his trial. Now it was time for his sister.
Rain was prepared in her new knightly armour, a fine sword sheathed on her back, with a handful of knives and other essential supplies latched to her waist. She carried a good number of mana recovery potions, as well as healing potions, despite having self-healing capability. One never knew the situation the trial would present.
“Nervous?” Cliff asked, after double-checking her supplies.
Rain nodded. “A little.”
Her expression said it was more than a little.
“I’m sure you will do fine,” Cliff said, slapping her reassuringly on the shoulder. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. You can easily get a good class by completing the first layer.”
“But it wouldn’t be as good as yours.”
“No, but there’s always a chance to evolve them into a higher form later,” he paused, examining her face. “Listen, you do not have to be burdened by any of it. Only decide to enter the second layer if you have the confidence in clearing it.”
“But you have paid so much to get me into the trials.”
The knight shook his head. “With your skills and foundations, you deserve a spot. Don’t sell yourself short. There are far worse candidates out there who have no skill to be there, you’ll see once you’re there.”
As Rain prepared to leave, Rossana hugged her, tears rolling from the corners of her eyes.
“We have a good life here,” Cliff reassured. “There is no need for you to risk your life to claim honour for us. We will be doing fine if you come out alive and well.”
“What your father said,” she conceded, her voice breaking. “Don’t try too much. So long as you can come out alive, it’s fine.”
“I will.” Rain nodded her head.
“Good luck,” Ember cheered, as she hugged him before embarking towards the grand hall.
Hundreds of participants were already pouring in, lined up in the hall, waiting for the Master of Rites to commence the trial.
“Dad,” Ember asked, “are the trials really hard?”
“They can be,” Cliff said, still looking at the fading figure of his daughter. “For most, the first layer tends to be easy. There’s no failure there. Even if one dies, they get a lifeline there. It is from the second layer that the trouble begins. They tend to be more unconventional and unpredictable. And it doesn’t help that people can actually die there.”
Only then did a thrum of fear for Rain crawl into his chest.
“But of course, one can quit in the middle of it, if they find they aren’t up to it.”
“But you have completed the second layer,” Ember said. It was how he got an Iron-grade Knight class as his starter class.
The father turned to him and smiled. “Well, Rain has a chance to complete it too.”
As the city bell rang at ten o’clock, the Master of Rites presented himself at the exact time. The city had a few prestigious positions. There was the Saint, who had the utmost authority over the city, and assisting him were the Judge, the Vanguard, the Guardian, and the Master of Rites. Each of them was a Gold-class ascendant with their respective area of command.
The Master of Rites was a wizened old man with long grey hair and a long beard hanging over his torso. Even with his rank and levels, the centuries he had lived were evident in each of the coarse wrinkles on his face. Other than being in charge of the Seynhold Academy, he had absolute authority over the class trials, as only he could open the Warpgate to the trial realms.
Being a man of patience, he lectured for a good few minutes, his voice broadcasting throughout the city. Then he carried on with announcing the names of the six hundred young ascendants partaking in the trial, before finally opening the trial gate.
Ember would have liked to at least see the portal that would take the participants into another realm of existence. Unfortunately, only the participants were allowed inside.
Ember had to wait for his turn. For today, he and his family would have to wait outside. There were people from all around Seynhold, families of the participants awaiting their sons and daughters to come out.
He had thought they would have to wait for long, and yet not even a quarter of an hour had passed when a few dispirited figures came out from the hall. As if their disgruntlement were not enough, the elders of their families already began to stammer curses and thunderous rebukes at their failure.
“It’s barely ten minutes,” Ember cried. “How have they already failed?”
Yes, there was no failure in the first layer, but what distinguished deeds of merit could they have accomplished in that little time?
“It might not be barely ten minutes for them,” Cliff said. “Time seems to flow differently inside the trial zone.”
“Right, the time dilation thing.”
“Time dilation,” his father repeated, arching an eyebrow at the term. “Perhaps that’s what it is, but nobody is sure. In my time, I spent eleven days within, but outside it was only about eight hours.”
Ember bobbed his head. “Is there no way to know what’s going on inside the trial?”
His father shook his head.
“It is an ancient construct left behind by transcendent beings. Even the Master of Rites, who is at Gold rank and over level 400, can barely know a few things about what’s going on inside the trials. Perhaps someone at the Diamond rank might be able to see through it, but there are none of them in Seynhold.”
Over the next couple of hours, more and more participants came and went. At least there were some happy faces among them, while only one line of announcement came from the Master of Rites, stating that twelve contestants had entered the second layer.
“I did it,” someone shouted the moment he came out of the gate, “I got a Tier 4 Archer Class.”
“Is a tier 4 class very good?” Ember asked, eyeing his father.
“It’s not bad,” his father exclaimed. “At Tier-4, the class would be a starter class at Iron rank. He’d have a good chance of reaching Silver class.”
“What about Gold rank?”
“It’s tough.” Cliff shook his head, exhaling deeply. “Even with my Tier 6 class, I barely have a shot at Gold rank.”
A Silver starter class probably gave a better shot at the elusive goal of Gold rank, Ember thought, clenching his fist. He had heard the goal was tough even for those bloodline clans. While Copper skills could be trained in a year or two, Iron took half a decade or more. Even the most talented individuals took a decade for Silver skills. Unless one got hold of one or two higher-ranked skills early, they would have no shot at reaching Tier-7 before the fourteen-year mark.
Ember had eight more years. Hopefully, he would not be stuck at Tier 3 for too long to push through the three Iron tiers. His mana skills were coming along well; perhaps in half a year he would be able to merge all three into the Iron-rank Mana Shaping skill.
As they hit the three-hour mark, almost half of the contestants had been transferred out from the trial, whereas the official statement from the Master of Rites claimed that fifty-four contestants had reached the second layer. There was still no news of Rain.
A few minutes later, a familiar face joined them. It was one of his aunts. There were so many of them that Ember found it hard to keep track. Only Aunt Zephyr was a familiar face, being his father’s direct elder sister.
“Good news,” she said immediately. “It seems some of the kids have seen Rain going into the second layer, along with a couple of others from our clan.”
The father nodded, still maintaining an impassive expression, whereas his mother was biting her nails in unrest, her eyes trained towards the high columns of the grand hall, waiting for it to deliver the participants out. Since there was nothing more to do but wait, Ember began to practise the breathing exercise in tandem with Mana Accumulation.
“So, when are you going to advance?” Zephyr asked.
His father only spared her a look without answering.
“Many of the clan want to know the answer.”
“If Father wants the answer, ask him to come and ask me directly,” Cliff said.
“Come on.”
Father shook his head. “If you are going to deliver the message, tell him I want no part in his game.”
“You think too little of him, little brother. Once you reach Silver class, your presence alone would aid Father in becoming the next Clan head.”
Ember opened his eyes as soon as the words reached his ears. His aunt narrowed her eyes, deliberated for a moment, but Cliff’s warning glare halted her from speaking further.
She remained silent for a long while and was about to leave when her gaze fell upon him. “Oh, so how is my favourite nephew doing?”
“I’m fine.”
She patted him on the head. “Little Flame seems to have grown so much taller within a couple of years.”
“His name is Ember,” his father said, and seemingly had no intention of conversing with her any further.
“Of course I know that,” Zephyr said with utmost sincerity. “Little Flame is the sweet nickname I had given him. Isn’t that right, Rosana?”
Well, at least she got one name right.
By afternoon, over 500 contestants seemed to have been flushed out from the trial, and there was still little news of Rain.
“She will be fine,” his father comforted his mother, who was clutching his hand. Even Ember grew a little pensive, awaiting Rain.
Finally, when the sun was barely peeking over the horizon, a limping slender silhouette came out with a couple of other figures. She was almost unrecognisable from her usual cheerfulness, but it was his sister, all right. She was limping on one foot, her face much more drained, marred with blood and dirt, but she was in one piece. And she had succeeded.
“There she is, there she is,” Ember shouted, as Rosanna jumped to her feet to run towards her. She pulled her into a bear hug, uncaring of what injuries her daughter bore.
“My sweet little Rain, you have succeeded.”
Cliff and Ember joined too, quickly congratulating her before embracing her in turn.
“Are you injured anywhere?” his father asked, eyes glazing over her form, but finding nothing of note.
Rain shook her head, still too out of breath to collect herself. “Just a little weak,” she managed to say. “The potion and my spell did their magic.”
“Good,” he wiped her face, bringing out a napkin. “Let’s go home. With your mother’s cooking, you’ll recover twice as fast.”
But before they could take a couple of steps, more members of House Blackstone came to encircle them.
“Congratulations, little Rain,” said Timber Blackstone. At his side stood Aunt Zephyr and the half-uncles that Ember barely recognised. “You certainly have not wasted your spot. Come on, tell us what class you have gotten.”
His father shot a warning glare towards his grandfather.
But Rain seemed to want to get it off her chest. She croaked out, “It’s Verdance Healer. A Tier 5 class.”
Their grandfather’s face fell for a moment, but he smiled endearingly, patting her on the shoulder. “That’s good. That's good. Healer is good too. There are so few of them. You have made me proud.”
After a little more exchange, under their father’s lead, they finally managed to dislodge themselves from the rest of House Blackstone. On the path, many people began to shower words of praise and congratulations their way. Since Rain was indisposed with weariness, Cliff accepted their words and thanked them. On that note, he had not said anything about Rain’s class, which seemed to make her worry even more.
“Dad,” she finally said, in a crumbling tone as they reached the compound of their home.
“Yes, Sweetie.”
“I’m sorry for failing you. I just couldn’t. . .”
“You haven’t failed me, Rainy,” Cliff said. “Everyone has their own path to walk. So what if you didn't get the Knight class? Only a small fraction of people can claim to have a Tier 5 class as their starter class.”
“No, I just…” she breathed, collecting her thoughts. “I did get the Knight class, but I didn’t pick it.”
As soon as she said that, the little remaining of her power seemed to have vanished from her limbs. Rosanna caught her before she crumbled down.
“I don’t think I can be a knight like you, Dad.”
“That’s completely fine, Sweetheart. I never wanted you to be a knight like me in the first place.”