Iridiana Prismachi sat in the small crowd and stared at the arena in disbelief. 'Was that? No, it couldn’t be,' she thought. 'The only person with an emotional marker like that is Grandpa—it’s insane!'

  Her friend commented, "He looks way too strong to be fighting Damyan. I know he’s a jerk who probably asked for it, but that was brutal."

  "You know he asked for it, Lyra. He’s always picking fights in the training rooms," Iridiana replied. She was one of the few warriors who could visually see emotional markers, a rare ability also possessed by her late grandmother, Aurora. As she watched the match closely, she searched for any sign of him.

  The air in the arena crackled with the low hum of anticipation and the lingering echo of a powerful blow. Iridiana, perched high in the observers' stands, leaned forward, her gaze intense. Her eyes, usually a watermelon pink, were narrowed in concentration as she focused on the recruit, Ayron.

  She was able to see a faint, minuscule wisp of color. A hue so devoid of visible spectrum light that it would have easily been dismissed or missed entirely on a standard prism exam.

  The referee’s voice boomed across the packed stadium, slicing through the tense silence. “Critical Strike, Ayron! Four points to zero.”

  A girl with fluorescent hair seated next to Iridiana dramatically leaned forward, letting out a theatrical sigh. "Did you see anything, Iridiana?? Besides, how obviously handsome he is. I mean, look at those shoulders! And that jawline!" The young woman swooned, more interested in Ayron's physical appearance than his fighting technique.

  Iridiana didn't take her eyes off the young man, who was now calmly receiving instructions from a guild representative. "I think so?"

  “What do you mean, you think so?” Lyra's brow raised in confusion, momentarily distracting her from her admiration. "He just landed a great hit! What's the mystery?"

  “It’s hard to tell, I see something, but it’s not colorful,” Iridiana explained, a subtle tremor of excitement running through her. She craned her neck, trying to get a better look at the new member. Her attention snapped back to the ring as the defeated opponent, Damyan, a veteran Level 304 guild member, let his frustration take over. She watched as Damyan’s rage got the better of him, resulting in a sloppy, desperate flailing at his opponent. It landed, much to her surprise, catching Ayron off guard.

  “Ouch!” Lyra cringed, momentarily forgetting her infatuation. "That had to hurt.”

  As the knock-out punch landed, a devastating right hook that bypassed Ayron's guard and sent a ripple through the protective field, the level 304 guild member finally grasped the final, crucial piece of the puzzle. It was minuscule, a mere flicker in the air around Ayron's momentarily stunned form, but Iridiana noticed the precise moment Ayron released a portion of his actual, latent power. The emotional markers, which usually burst forth in vibrant reds for anger, blues for sorrow, or yellows for joy, were instead a stark, impossible white—one of the rarest types of emotional energy.

  Iridiana’s breath hitched in her throat. She only knew of one other person in the entire Raiders’ Tower history who was documented to possess this specific color of marker. 'No way!' The thought slammed into her with the force of a physical blow. Iridiana was instantly, deeply intrigued by this young man. He was an anomaly. Where on Ardor did he come from? He moved with a practiced motion and the strategic mind of a hardened tower veteran, someone who had faced true dangers. Yet, the records clearly stated this was his very first entry into the lowest levels of the Tower. It simply didn’t make sense.

  “Knock out, Ayron! Eleven points to one - Ayron wins the match!” The referee’s announcement broke the spell. The crowd erupted, a mixture of confused chatter and scattered applause.

  “Gotta go!” Iridiana exclaimed, already scrambling over the bench. She spared a glance at a bewildered Lyra before practically leaping down the stadium steps. Her hand instinctively plunged into her pocket. She pulled her communicator out, searching through her contacts and picking a number.

  “Hey!” the young woman smiled, a rush of pure, unadulterated excitement flooding her voice as she heard the familiar gruff voice on the other end. “Can you stop by the guild in Laudmuth? No, just trust me. How fast can you get here? There’s something you’ve absolutely got to see!"

  Iridiana rushed from the stands toward the back corridors that led to the examination rooms. A single, iron-clad rule governed this situation: According to the official rulebook, all individuals, especially recruits, who exhibit any anomalous, uncontrolled, or unidentifiable energy signature during a preliminary match are automatically escorted to the examination rooms.

  This protocol existed to nip every accusation of cheating, hidden artifacts, or unauthorized prism usage in the bud in seconds, before rumors could spread or guild integrity could be questioned. Iridiana knew Ayron would be heading there, and she needed to make sure he was getting a fair exam. As a high-ranking member of the guild, she had an obligation to fight for the rest of her comrades.

  As she rushed down the hall, she skimmed her RTG panel. Being a high-ranking guild member gave her special perks, one of them being able to see redacted information. There wasn’t much info, since Ayron was a first-time fighter, Iridiana was hoping to see his attack scores, and any notes on his prism exam. Unfortunately, there were no notes. However, the young woman saw his first attack score, her eyes widening in surprise. ‘1993?!’

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  “Wait!” Iridiana hollered, watching the exam door close. The young woman grumbled as she watched the referee quickly close the entrance behind him. “Rude..” As she walked down the hall, she spotted the director.

  “Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Director Vanya observed.

  “I’m going to watch the new guys' second prism exam in the last few hours.” Iridiana sighed. “Who did the test?? If we’re harassing new guild members, they’ll leave as quickly as they showed up.”

  “I second that.” Kaysi veered in their direction, heading to the exam room as well. “I tried to tell your examiner there was something strange, but he dismissed me.”

  “Hey, old man!” Iridiana smiled as she waved at her previous instructor. “Long time, no see.”

  “Always good to see you, Rae,” Kaysi grinned.

  The director sighed deeply, and a vein in his temple began to throb. Iridiana noticed it immediately, causing her to snicker. “It’s not a day at the guild if I don’t bug you at least once!”

  Once again, Ayron found himself in an exam room. The sterile white walls, the faint hum of ventilation; it all conspired to tighten the knot in his stomach. It wasn't the room itself that bothered him; it was what the room represented: another unknown challenge, another test of his mettle in a world that had proven far more unpredictable than he'd ever imagined.

  "Uh, what are we doing here, guys? Another exam?" The young man tried to make small talk the entire trip here to no avail. His voice, meant to sound casual, came out a bit too strained, too high-pitched. He’d attempted to break the ice repeatedly, cracking jokes about the guild hall's perpetually confusing corridors and speculating on the quality of the cafeteria's mystery meat. The two referees escorting him were stoic, keeping their expressions completely neutral. This professional silence, this unwavering lack of response, only added to Ayron's nerves.

  He slumped slightly as they came to a stop in the center of the unremarkable room. He wasn’t sure what to expect anymore. His time in the guild has been one rollercoaster after another. He'd gone from a hopeful, naive applicant to a participant in brutal, bizarre trials that seemed designed less to test skill and more to shatter his preconceptions about reality. He'd faced creatures he thought only existed in nightmares, navigated complicated combat zones, and learned painful lessons about betrayal and self-reliance. Every time he thought he’d reached a stable point, the ground shifted beneath his feet, plunging him into a new crisis.

  A profound exhaustion settled over him, heavier than any armor. Part of him wanted to throw his hands up entirely, walk away from this situation, and never look back. He could disappear, maybe find a quiet, isolated village, and try to live out his days tending a small garden. The temptation was a sweet, debilitating ache in his chest. Yet, a deeper, more stubborn part of him—the part that had survived all the previous trials—refused to let him quit. He grit his teeth, straightening his posture. Whatever this was, he would face it. He had to.

  The door opened quickly. Three individuals entered, two he immediately recognized as Kaysi and the tower director. A young woman entered behind Kays. Ayron’s eyes were suddenly drawn to hers - watermelon pink. It was a unique color that he was convinced was fake somehow. Who was this mystery person? Why did she look so excited? The moment the others entered the room, the referees let go of the foreigner. He finally let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

  “What’s going on?” Ayron questioned.

  “This is just a formality,” the director began. “When anyone is suspected of using Enki techniques in the lower levels, they’re immediately taken to an exam room to rule out the accusations. Since this is your first and only fight, I find it strange that we missed something.”

  “Really?” Kaysi and Iridiana comment simultaneously.

  “I tried to mention something in the exam,” the instructor mentioned.

  The young woman was right on the heels of Kaysi’s words. “Does every examiner know to look for special -”

  “Nevertheless,” Vanya interjected with an irritated sigh. “We’re going to run it again. Place your hand on the prism, please.”

  He extended his hand and pressed his palm against the cool, smooth surface once more. There was no dramatic flash, yet the effect was immediate. Ayron noticed a distinct, subtle increase in the ambient light. It wasn't a harsh illumination, but a pervasive, soft glow that seemed to emanate from the air itself, bathing the testing chamber in a gentle, ethereal clarity.

  “Turn the lights off,” Iridiana commanded, her voice cutting through the hushed silence.

  “Why?” Ayron questioned, his brow furrowed in suspicion.

  “You’ll see!” the young woman retorted, a wide, excited grin spreading across her face. Without waiting for Ayron's full agreement, one of the older, official-looking referees walked briskly toward the back wall. She reached a nondescript panel and flipped a large, heavy-duty switch.

  The overhead fluorescent lights instantly died, plunging the chamber into what should have been near-total darkness. However, to the astonishment of Ayron and the other members, the room remained astonishingly bright. The newfound light—a soft, white-gold aura—intensified slightly, holding the darkness at bay. It seemed to have no discernible source, filling every corner of the room with a clear, steady radiance that was completely unaffected by the absence of conventional lighting.

  Ayron instantly felt an intimidating presence in their vicinity, an overwhelming power that made Kaysi’s aura feel like a match in the wind. Everyone around them began getting uncomfortable looks on their faces. The young woman was smiling uncontrollably, throwing off the foreigner. “What is that??” he asked.

  “Grandpa’s here!” Iridiana cheered, a wide grin spreading across her face.

  “You called the guild master?!” Kaysi and the director shouted in unison, shocked.

  “Of course, I did! He has to see this!” Iridiana giggled. “He got here much faster than I expected.”

  Ayron, confused, glanced at the young woman. “See what?”

  The exam room door swung open, and a tall man with a neatly trimmed grey beard, hair peppered with grey strands, stepped inside. He appeared to be in his early forties, too young to be a ‘grandpa’. The man exuded the potent aura of a thousand seasoned warriors. Ayron found himself taking a subconscious step backward.

  Iridiana beamed, pointing at the glowing white prism. “Grandpa Malik! He’s just like you!”