NOVEL NEXT Chapter 10: THE CREST OF BONDS
The air inside the Duel Hall thickened with silence as the heavy oak doors sealed behind the last straggling student. Torchlight licked along the stone walls, yet the center of the hall glowed faintly with something otherworldly. A vast mural carved into the far wall shimmered, veins of silver and violet flickering across its surface like veins of living lightning.
THE CREST OF BONDS
Dozens of them. Some shaped like snarling beasts, some like spiraling runes, others like jagged shards of fractured glass. Each one pulsed with a slumbering heartbeat. Old, hungry, waiting.
Professor Girzar, the elder with the long grey beard and the hawk's nose, stepped forward first. His boots clicked sharply on the polished floor, and with every step, the attention of the class chained to him. His hands folded into his robes, voice cutting through the silence:
"Grade placements are nothing if not earned. Power must choose power. Mana must answer to mana. Today, you will find your partners—those you are bound to grow beside. The Crests will test you… and the Crests never lie."
His words seemed to hang like a curse. A ripple of excitement and dread ran through the rows of students.
Behind him Professor Selene. Her robe trailed with silken majesty, deep sapphire fabric embroidered with silver runes that glimmered faintly as she moved. Every step she took drew a dozen eyes, yet it wasn't her robe that stole the attention, it was the way her blouse clung against her voluptuous curves, her posture elegant yet dangerous, like a queen observing pawns.
Her gaze swept the hall once cold, assessing before she took her place beside Girzar. For a fleeting second, her eyes lingered on Eran. In the back row.
But then she looked away, as if nothing caught between them.
Girzar raised a bony hand toward the mural.
"The test is simple. One by one, you will step forward. Place your hand upon the wall. If your mana resonates, a Crest will awaken. Those drawn to the same Crest shall be bound into a group. Fail… and the Crest will not open to you. Try as you may, some of you will find only rejection. And rejection, in this Academy, is truth."
A murmur swelled through the crowd. Some students smirked with confidence. Others looked pale already.
"Let us begin," Girzar announced.
A tall noble boy strutted forward first, his coat lined with golden trim that screamed old family wealth. He slammed his palm against the wall without hesitation.
The effect was immediate. One of the sigils, the one shaped like a lion—flared to life, golden light spilling across the mural. Gasps rang through the crowd.
"House Ardelion's blood still carries its pride," Girzar intoned.
The boy turned and gave a mocking bow, basking in the applause of his noble peers.
Next came a girl, her hair bound with crystalline pins. She touched the wall delicately, and another crest spun open, shaped like a blossoming flower. The nobles clapped again.
The pattern began. One by one, the students walked forward. Nobles almost always succeeded each touch bringing another radiant surge from the mural, each crest shining brighter than the last. Laughter and cheers echoed as groups began forming naturally, students stepping toward others who shared their resonance.
But when the first commoner tried… the hall shifted.
A thin boy with patched robes placed his hand on the mural. For a moment, faint sparks flickered. A fragile light tried to bloom. Then snuffed out.
The crest refused him.
Laughter burst from the noble seats.
"Pathetic."
"Not even enough mana to light a candle."
The boy stumbled back, face flushed with shame, retreating into the shadows.
By the fifth failure, the air had grown electric with cruelty. Nobles whispered and jeered with every rejection. The commoners shifted uncomfortably, each waiting for their turn, dread curling around them like a noose.
Through it all, Eran remained silent. His head lowered, his expression unreadable. He watched every flicker of mana, every surge, every failure. And deep inside, the voice of his system whispered:
[Analyzing mana frequency…]
{Crest resonance identified…}
[Weak. Predictable. They think this is strength?]
His lips twitched, almost into a smirk, but he killed it before anyone could notice.
Then came Miyu.
The hall hushed as she stepped forward, her long hair swaying, her presence commanding. Whispers rushed like wildfire.
"She's going to break it—watch."
"Velmeirion blood. She'll light the wall brighter than anyone yet."
She placed her palm on the mural.
BOOM!.
A shockwave of violet light tore through the hall, throwing shadows against the walls. One of the largest crests an ornate sigil shaped like a phoenix burst open, flames of mana swirling around her hand.
The hall erupted in cheers and awe.
Miyu turned, her eyes sharp, and let her gaze drift to the back straight at Eran. She smirked faintly, as if daring him: try to match this.
Crests continued to awaken. Nobles boasted. Commoners despaired. Groups formed neatly, like threads weaving together into banners of glory.
Until…
By the time more than half the class had bonded, only a handful remained unpaired. All commoners.
And among them—Eran.
He stood alone at the edge of the hall, shadowed, silent. Each time another noble paired, each time the laughter rose, the tension coiled tighter. By now, whispers had turned openly mocking:
"Does he really belong here?"
"Still hiding at the back. Coward."
"Bet he won't even light a speck of dust."
Finally, Girzar's voice cut across the hall:
"Eran."
The room stilled. All eyes turned toward him.
The boy who was nothing. The boy without a name in their world.
Snickers followed, nods from the surrounding nobles. The difference between them and the "rest" was drawn sharper with every crest's glow.
Selene stood further ahead, her posture calm, eyes betraying little. She had been paired already—secured neatly, of course, her mana responding flawlessly to the seal. Yet her gaze slid, once, across the chamber… to him. Just long enough for him to catch it. Just long enough for her to remember the bargain they struck in whispers and heated breath.
"You owe me," she had said.
"Perhaps," he said.
Now? She turned back before the other nobles could suspect, her composure ironclad.
Slowly, Eran stepped forward. His boots echoed on the floor, one after another, until he stood before the vast mural of sleeping crests. The light of a hundred awakened sigils washed over his face, but his eyes… his eyes remained calm, almost indifferent.
The hall held its breath.
And Eran lifted his hand brushing against the cold glow.
For an instant, mana surged back at him like a tidal wave, eager to judge. He let it wash over him, his own power shivering just beneath the surface, hidden, caged. He tightened his jaw. Not yet. Not here.
He pulled his hand back. The crest flickered violently, then dimmed. No pair assigned. No name bound.
Gasps filled the chamber.
"He… failed?"
"Unmatched?!"
"Even the crest refuses him."
Miyu's laughter cut through it all like crystal breaking. "I told you all! Tomorrow he'll be the first to fall Completely!"
The chamber echoed with cruel amusement, voices building on each other, echoing against stone.
And yet…
Through the sneers, the whispers, the weight of their scorn, Eran only let his lips curl once more into that faint smile, sharp as a blade hidden in cloth.
Selene's eyes, unreadable, lingered again. Just a fraction too long.
The crest still hummed faintly behind him, unsettled like it had brushed something it couldn't comprehend.
The session moved on. Nobles basked in their pairings, pride swelling like poisoned fruit. But the tension and amusement didn't fade. It lingered in the air, thick and heavy, because though he stood alone at the bottom… Eran's silence promised something far more dangerous than failure