Kingdom of Verdwryn

The recruits stood in nervous silence, the early morning sun casting long shadows over the training yard. Halfway through their six-month training, their bodies were leaner, their skills sharper, but today was different. A priest of the Sylvan Order had arrived, accompanied by Captain Garren. The priest was an older man, his robes a deep green, the color of the forest, stitched with intricate gold threads that shimmered like sunlight through leaves. He carried an exquisitely carved crystal, glowing faintly in the sunlight.

Captain Garren addressed the group first, his tone commanding but not unkind. "Listen up! This crystal will assess your potential. Everyone is born with a talent level that determines your affinity for mana and how far you can progress in any discipline—be it magic, knighthood, or even mundane skills. Some of you may already know what to expect, but for many, this will be the first time you face the truth about your limits."

The priest stepped forward, his voice gentle but firm. "Talents are measured on a scale: Black, the lowest, signifies no real aptitude. Blue is basic potential, steady but unspectacular. Green signifies those with natural ability. Yellow is exceptional, and gold... well, gold is a rarity, often spoken of in the same breath as legends. And then there is white—a mythical tier so rare it's uncertain whether it's a blessing or a curse. No one with white talent has lived long enough to uncover its full potential."

The recruits murmured among themselves, excitement and dread evident in their faces. Some whispered about the chances of hitting a rare tier, while others looked anxious, aware of how their results could impact their futures.

Captain Garren raised his voice to silence them. "Now, this crystal doesn't define you entirely. Knights and mages progress differently. If your heart and determination are strong enough, you can surpass your supposed limits. But," his tone turned somber, "make no mistake. Talent does matter."

The priest gestured for the first recruit to step forward. One by one, the recruits approached, placing their hands on the crystal. The light within the stone changed with each touch—black for some, blue for many, green for a lucky few. Each time a recruit pulled their hand away, the air seemed to hum with a mixture of disappointment, pride, and quiet determination.

Michael watched as the others passed through their turns, their results marked by varying shades of light. Some were proud, others disappointed. There was a strange, electric energy in the air, a competition none of them could escape. Michael felt it too, the unspoken pressure. It gripped his chest, his mind. He didn't care about the others, but he couldn't help the quiet weight that settled in his gut.

Finally, it was his turn. He stepped forward calmly, his blue eyes cold and analytical, though his heart raced with anticipation. He placed his hand on the crystal, bracing himself. The warmth that spread through his palm was faint, but the pulse of the crystal was undeniable. A steady blue glow filled the air, casting soft light over his hand and the ground beneath.

A murmur rippled through the recruits. The whispers began almost immediately.

"Blue? That's not great," one whispered.

"Guess he's not as special as he looks," another said.

Michael stood still, his face impassive, though inside, a twinge of disappointment clawed at him. He had expected this. His life had never been about extraordinary gifts, only relentless effort. Still, there was a sting to seeing the others with their yellow and green results. He wasn't a prodigy. But then, he'd never needed to be.

Captain Garren's voice cut through the murmurs. "Blue is steady, reliable. It's not flashy, but it's a foundation. And sometimes, a solid foundation builds the strongest walls." His eyes lingered on Michael, as if daring him to crumble under the weight of others' expectations.

The priest nodded and turned to address the group again. "For those of you with the potential to wield magic, your path begins with understanding mana—the driving force behind all abilities. Mana can be harnessed internally, fortifying your body, or externally, shaping the world around you." He raised his hand, his fingers glowing faintly with a golden light. "The mage's path is divided into four stages. As an Apprentice Mage, you'll learn to sense mana and channel it. Reaching Adept Mage—levels 4 to 6—requires honing your spells and discovering your elemental affinity. Master Mages, at levels 7 to 9, are capable of commanding mana with precision and power. Beyond level 10 lies the domain of the Archmage, where mana bends to your will and you shape the very battlefield. Few ever reach the mythical level of Archmage Ascendant."

Michael listened intently, the words sinking in. He had learned of mana's existence on the battlefield but hadn't yet grasped the true depth of its potential. It was as if he were only beginning to uncover the world's mysteries.

The priest continued, his tone almost reverent. "However, there is something beyond that. Some say that those who transcend the limits of the Archmage are not merely masters of magic, but they become Archmage Ascendants—beings so powerful, they can warp the fabric of reality itself. Time can bend to their will, and they can shape space itself."

Michael frowned. His blue talent might not seem significant, but the idea of transcending his limits ignited something within him. Could someone like him ever reach that level? The question lingered in his mind, unanswered but not impossible.

Captain Garren took over, his voice firm. "The knight's path is different. We don't throw fireballs or conjure illusions; we use mana to enhance our bodies and weapons. As Squires, you'll learn techniques like Iron Guard to block even the fiercest attacks and Force Thrust for a powerful strike. Reaching the rank of Knight—level 4—means mastering advanced techniques like Dragon's Breath Strike or Aegis Bulwark. Knight Captains at level 7 can inspire armies and withstand attacks that would fell lesser warriors. The pinnacle, Knight Paragon, is level 10 and beyond. These knights are legends, capable of turning the tide of battles with a single swing of their blade or a command."

The recruits absorbed his words, the weight of the possibilities ahead heavy in the air. Michael's mind raced. Becoming a Knight Paragon was a distant dream, but it was within reach. A challenge he could rise to meet.

"But there is one more step," Captain Garren added, his voice darkening. "Beyond Knight Paragon lies the realm of the Legendary Knight. These warriors are so skilled in their internal energy that they achieve near invulnerability. Their combat abilities are said to shape the outcome of entire wars. A single blow from them can level an entire army, and their willpower is enough to move mountains."

The recruits fell silent at the mention of such power. Michael felt the weight of Garren's words, yet his mind kept circling back to one idea: What if it's possible? What if it's my turn to surpass those limits?

Michael's thoughts turned inward. The road ahead would be steep, but he had faced steeper climbs before. He wouldn't allow a crystal to dictate his destiny.

As the recruits dispersed, Michael lingered in thought. The world was full of challenges. This, too, would be one. And he'd face it with everything he had.