Six Months Had Passed…
One hundred and eighty days. Hard, grinding work.
The Carter Cross who first stumbled into the Library, a confused young man running from killers was gone. Now, he’s become a compentent mage.
But he must prove it.
The morning of the Aptitude Test arrived. The sun in the Sky Dimension was bright, casting long shadows on the training ground.
It wasn’t a normal practice day. This was serious. The seven recruits stood in a straight line.
They wore the Library’s standard training uniform: black pants, black boots, and a dark gray t-shirt. The shirts didn’t hide the new muscles they’d earned.
They looked leaner now, tougher. Their eyes showed a focus carved by Gendric’s tough training and Damien’s hard lessons.
Carter’s mind flashed back. The last six months were a blur of change.
He saw himself in the dark training room, remembering how his movements used to be awkward and hesitant.
Now, they were much smoother, after sparred with the other recruits, and practicing on training dummies.
Atlas and Archer, heavy and menacing, felt like a part of him now. Carter no longer fought the whispers from his grimoires.
He worked with them, containing their wild power by guiding them with a steady hand.
Paige the quiet scholar, learned to weave complex Irish spells of nature, with movements that were precise and confident.
Yulian, the powerful hand to hand brawler, learned to move with a terrifying grace now. Each hit a calculated deadly strike.
He saw Nico, the passive defender who struggled to go on offense. Now was a blur of kinetic energy. And his Tagalog magic that shields not just stopping hits, but sends them back with explosive force.
And Akira, a fast deadly dance with his katana. His skill went from good to sharp as a razor.
Every move showed a lifetime of hard discipline. They had all been broken down, stripped to the bone, and rebuilt stronger.
Sir Agamor stood before them. His golden hair caught the sun with an expression that held a scholarly pride.
“Recruits,” he began. His voice was deep and strong, making them pay attention. “For seven months, you have been students.”
“You learned magic’s rules, our war’s history, and the hard truth of combat. Today that ends.”
“Today you take the first step to becoming true members of the Library of Solomon.”
He gestured to the empty ground. “Your Aptitude Test has three parts. The first part, this morning, is a Foreign Language Exam.”
“You know, a mage who speaks many languages is versatile and dangerous. You must show you know at least one language besides your own.”
“The second part, this afternoon, is Spell Structure and Application. You must show us you understand magical theory and how to use your grimoire.”
“The final part, tomorrow, is a live combat tournament. Which will show how you use that learned theory in battle.”
“You will fight each other, one on one duels.”
Nervous whispers spread through the recruits.
“Let me be clear,” Agamor continued, his voice cutting through the noise. “This isn’t a pass or fail test. You cannot fail.”
“But how well you do in each part will be carefully observed.”
“This will demonstrate your strengths, weaknesses, and your potential.”
“It will decide where you go, and with whom. Do your best to not take this lightly. Your lives, and the lives of your teammates, could one day depend on what you display these next two days.”
He looked at each of them. His wise golden eyes held a deep, fatherly seriousness.
“Learning is over. It’s time to prove yourselves. Let’s start.”
Sir Agamor led them from the bright training ground back into the quiet halls of the Great Archive. They went to a formal room Carter had never seen.
It was large, shaped like a half circle. Dark wood desks sat in tiers, with the highest tier in the back of the room. All facing a raised platform at the front.
The air was cool and still. It smelled like old paper and had a faint, electric tang.
The only sound was their footsteps on the marble floor.
Damien Crowley stood at the front. His face was serious and unreadable as usual.
He held a stack of papers. “Find a seat,” he ordered, his voice sharp and clear.
“The written part of your language test starts now. You have one hour.”
Carter looked at the paper Damien put in front of him. It was a large block of Mandarin characters.
His goal was to translate it into English. Staring at the paper, taking a long deep, breath.
Three months ago, this would have been an impossible task, just lines and symbols. But now, with a trained eye and strong grasp of the fundamentals, the patterns had become child play.
The parts of each language character was easily understood. Understanding the meaning behind each, helped by his magic. He had learned to read them.
Carter looked at the others. Yulian squinted at his paper, with his brow tight with concentration.
His lips moved silently as he sounded out English words. Keyona chewed on her pen.
Her gaze was far away as she struggled with the grammar of Swedish. They were all in their own silent fights with language and meaning.
After the writing test, the speaking test began. One by one, they were called to the front.
They stood before three serious, old scholars. The scholars wore robes of the Library’s darkest blue, with the emblem of the library in pure white, the color of its highest academic rank.
Yulian went first. His large body looked even bigger in front of the three frail-looking academics.
“Mr. Volkov,” the scholar in the middle said. Her voice was dry and academic, but she spoke in slow, clear English.
“Please, tell us about your home.”
Yulian’s English was slow, heavily accented, and not quite right grammatically. But he spoke with loud, booming confidence.
“My home… is Russia. St. Petersburg. Is… very cold,” he said. A small, nostalgic smile touched his face.
“But beautiful. Much… history. And family. My family is there.”
The scholars nodded, seeming to be satisfied. He understood the questions and made himself understood.
His strong effort overcame his lack of smooth speaking. Next was Paige.
She seemed right at home. The main scholar spoke to her in fluent, classical Greek.
“Ms. Hellen, your file says you enjoy research. What subject do you find most fascinating?”
“That is a difficult question,” Paige replied. Her Greek was fluent and confident. Her voice was full of quiet, academic passion.
“But I have always been drawn to the unseen world. The connections that bind things together.”
“In my old life, it was the mycelial networks of a forest. Here…” she gestured to the grand archive around them, “it is the connections between languages, between spells, between ideas.”
“It is all part of the same beautiful, complex system.”
Her voice was full of quiet, academic passion. She didn’t just answer the question.
She spoke naturally, like she was having a conversation. The stern scholars were clearly impressed.
Their serious faces softened into looks of real, scholarly delight.
Finally, the results were announced. Agamor had promised it wasn’t pass or fail.
It was about how well they knew things. They were graded on the old Common European Framework, from before Unity.
Akira was excused, since he already knew the languages. All the others had completely mastered their own affinity languages.
Their natural connection made learning faster than was possible in the old world.
Their other languages were another story. Yulian and Keyona were at a basic, working level.
Nico, Amy, and Carter had a strong, conversational understanding. Paige was in a league of her own.
She was fluent in both her secondary languages. Carter remembered Damien’s advice from months ago: “The spells in your grimoires come from old, powerful languages.”
“Study them. Understand them. Or they will destroy you.”
Knowing basic Mandarin and Mongolian felt like a dangerously weak shield against the angry, whispering ghosts tied to his hands.
The first test was over, after they had proved their minds were sharp.
But the real test, the test of their power, was still to come.
Later In The Afternoon…
The afternoon sun of the Sky Dimension hung high above. It cast a bright, clear light on the main training ground.
The feeling was completely different from the quiet, academic tension of the morning. A low, expectant hum of conversation filled the air.
Raised platforms had been built along one side of the large, rectangular field. They were filled with watching mages—teachers, scholars, and off-duty combat agents.
They had all come to see the new recruits debut. A line of perfect straw training dummies stood in the center of the field.
They were silent, unmoving targets, waiting for the demonstration to start.
The seven recruits walked onto the field. They held their grimoires ready.
Carter felt the weight of hundreds of eyes on him. It was a heavy, prickling feeling on the back of his neck.
He saw the leaders sitting in the front row of the main platform. Gabriel sat there, his holy white wings folded neatly behind him.
His face was peaceful and unreadable. Sir Agamor gave them an encouraging nod, like a grandfather.
General Wulan stood with his arms crossed, his face a mask of stern, critical judgment.
Lady Seraphina offered them a small, reassuring smile.
Beside them sat their assistants. Damien’s face was cold and unreadable. Gendric gave them a fierce, challenging grin.
Anansi’s calm, steady gaze seemed to offer silent support.
He also saw Killian and Ruby, sitting a few rows back.
Seated with them were two people Carter had never seen. One was a tall, strong Latino man, with a robust masculine face. Clean shaven except for a thick dense mustache.
His presence gave off an aura of confident, royal authority. He had a very masculine, appearance.
A faded scar ran across his cheek, a silent sign of a life of fighting.
His dark hair was styled perfectly. He carried himself like a natural leader.
The other person was a woman who seemed to be the opposite of him.
She was a striking Nordic woman. Her pitch black hair was short and shaggy.
Her pale skin was a sharp contrast. Her eyes, sharp and piercing red, had dark makeup around them.
Silver rings and studs decorated her ears. She wore all black.
Her posture showed cold, intense focus. She looked like a predator, watching the world with a still, dangerous readiness.
Carter heard Killian’s voice, a low grumble carried on the breeze.
“Miguel, Freya! Glad you could make it.” Killian says.
“Try not to look too bored; you’re supposed to be scouting for your new teams.” Ruby says.
Miguel, the man, let out a low, pleased chuckle.
“Don’t worry, my friend. I am always interested in new talent.”
Freya, the woman, said nothing as she studied the class. Her intense red eyes swept over the recruits.
She watched, judged, and missed nothing.
Sir Agamor stepped forward. His deep, resonant voice silenced the crowd.
“Recruits, the first trial tested your minds. This second trial will test your control.”
“You have finished the written part of the Spell Structure and Application test. Now, you will prove your practical mastery.”
He gestured to the line of training dummies. “Each of you must cast either two or three spells. A Direct Spell, to show your raw power.”
“A Complex Spell, to show your control and understanding of your magic. And finally, a Mixed Spell, to show your skill with different things and your grasp of foreign magic.”
“You can cast all three, or a only Complex Spell and a Mixed Spell. How you do here will be important in deciding where you go.”
“Do your best not to disappoint.”
The recruits took their places. Seven nervous but determined figures stood in a line facing the straw dummies.
The low, waiting hum of the crowd faded into a deep, silent anticipation. The written part of the test was over.
Now came the real test.
Carter stood in his spot. The weight of Atlas and Archer on his hands felt familiar, terrifying, but also somehow comforting.
He glanced up at the audience, at the many faces watching them. He felt their combined gaze, a heavy, suffocating pressure.
He saw Gabriel’s peaceful, knowing eyes and felt a jolt of nervous energy. He saw Killian, who gave him a small, almost invisible nod of encouragement.
He saw Freya, the woman, her red eyes seeming to look right through him. He saw Miguel, the man, whose confident, judging stare made Carter feel like a prize animal being looked at for sale.
And he saw Akira, standing a few places down the line. His expression was a mask of, challenging indifference.
He was no longer the scared, hesitant man who arrived seven months ago.
He was a powerful mage.
And he was determined to prove to everyone.
Damien now stood at the head of the field, acting as the supervisor. He turned to the recruits.
His voice echoed across the silent courtyard.
“The practical demonstration will now begin.” His unyeilding grey eyes landed on the first recruit in the line.
“Mr. Kendo,” he said, his voice a sharp commanding bark.
“You are first.”
Akira stepped forward. His body showed a new, disciplined power.
He took a deep breath and unsheathed his katana grimoire, Akimaru. He looked at the training dummy to the audience and back again.
He had a look of determination and pure arrogance. A look that said, “I’ve got this.”
The entire Library was watching. His trial was about to begin.