Each gong that marked the start and end of the trial echoed slowly but heavily, like the hammer of fate striking down upon the great examination grounds of Dwiwana Academy.
"Next participant: Laras Candrakirana."
Silence fell—not from respect, but from curiosity laced with prejudice. As the figure of an Ardhakala stepped into the arena, the whispers began, sharp as knives from the stands, especially from the rows occupied by pure-blooded Ardhians.
"A half-breed? Really?"
"She'll fall within seconds."
"She has no place in this Academy."
But Laras remained calm.
She had heard such scorn her entire life. In this world, a mixed-blood—half-human, half-Ardhian—was considered a stain. But for Laras, this step forward was not to prove her worth to others. This was a path toward liberation.
At her waist hung a weathered, leather-bound book—her family's heirloom, etched with a silver seal that shimmered faintly. Her Mantrawan's book—not merely a grimoire, but a vessel for storing backup Éra and amplifying incantations. A legacy. The only thing her mother left behind... or perhaps her father.
She stood at the edge of the trial arena. Across from her, the Brahmandhala Golem began to rise—a towering giant of stone and metal, nearly four depa tall. Crimson light burned in its hollow eyes, staring at her with something almost like mockery. Its body was a weave of rune-etched metal and Éra-infused stone—materials that could only be moved with high-level Éra manipulation.
"Three minutes," Laras whispered to herself. "Not to win—just to survive."
That was the rule. Each participant had to endure the Brahmandhala for three minutes. But she had noticed earlier—something was off.
Some were crushed in under a minute, despite their strength. Others seemed to be given space to endure. There was a pattern. A design. As if this trial… was being orchestrated.
GONG!
The test began.
The golem moved—fast. Shockingly fast for something its size. A massive hammer arced from the left, aiming straight for her ribs.
Laras leapt back and opened her book. Her voice, calm but resolute, echoed:
"Ajian Tameng Bayu: Mantra Setalira Waja Sanggraha!"
A shield of spinning wind materialized, absorbing the first impact of the hammer. But the sheer force of it sent her tumbling across the stone floor. The shield shattered. It was, after all, a basic spell.
She rose, breath ragged. Chanting an ajian was not a matter of memorization—it drew Éra directly from the user's body. And a human's Éra—even a half-Ardhian's—had limits. Once depleted, a Mantrawan would fall unconscious… or worse.
That was the purpose of her heirloom book—not only a grimoire but a sealed wellspring of Éra, channeled slowly through the glowing seal embedded in her hand.
Most students possessed heirlooms—some weapons, others garments, jewelry, or body-bound spells. But no relic could be truly wielded without skill.
The golem charged again. This time, faster. More savage. It spun its colossal body, smashing with elbows and shoulders of stone—forcing Laras to either dodge or drain her Éra.
"Ajian Langkah Bayangan: Mantra Lirihan Silepna!"
Her body blurred, vanishing in a flicker. She evaded the strike—barely—and pivoted behind the golem.
Then she saw it.
On its back, a pattern—Éra circuitry shaped like a sigil. Not natural. Crafted. Someone—or some group—was controlling the golem remotely, using an Éra-binding rune.
And between each participant, the golem paused, as if it needed to recharge. Which meant… the control wasn't limitless.
Yet curiously, not every participant was attacked like this. Some were clearly spared. Why?
The golem leapt, a tremor shaking the earth as stone shards flew. Laras blocked one, but her Éra was beginning to slow. The reservoir was draining.
"If I run out of Éra here… it's over."
She opened her book again, pulling forth a mid-tier incantation sealed on the first page. The book glowed. The Éra seal on her backhand pulsed.
"Ajian Serpihan Éra: Mantra Nyanthaka Rayu Sudhamala!"
The book flared with a soft luminescence, feeding her body with precious Éra. Not much—but enough to stay in the fight. She used it to anchor a small seal beneath her feet.
She couldn't attack. She could only survive.
One minute remained. Her body was bruised—shoulder swollen, one cheek bloodied from a reflected spell—but she stood.
And she understood one crucial thing:
Every spell she cast toward the golem had been reflected.
The creature was coated in a repelling layer of Éra—metal and stone enchanted to absorb and redirect magic. That's why those who fought head-on failed.
Laras adapted—using only movement and shield spells, ones that couldn't be mirrored. Every drop of Éra preserved was like holding breath underwater. Her heirloom book trembled in her grasp, whispering: Just a little longer…
The golem roared. This time, it raised both arms. From its chest, an ominous crimson glow began to pulse.
It wasn't just defending. It was casting.
The spell detonated—a wave of red light sweeping across the arena.
Laras had no choice. With the last of her Éra, she slammed down one final seal:
"Ajian Teralis Dwi-Karma: Mantra Tatag Kalang Tetulung!"
A barrier rose—a wall of shimmering Éra. Imperfect. Fragile. But just strong enough to absorb the blast for a heartbeat. She was flung backward, crashing into one of the arena's protective pillars. She clawed against it, desperate to stay inside the ring.
And at that very moment—
GONG!
The second strike.
Three minutes had passed.
Laras collapsed to her knees, gasping, knees bloodied, body battered. But she was conscious. She was alive. She had endured.
The stands were silent.
Even the pureblood Ardhians who had jeered at the start were frozen. No one had expected a half-blood girl—with no weapon, only an old book and a single seal—to last against the Brahmandhala that had torn through others like parchment.
From the central throne, Reswara rose. He said nothing. But his eyes narrowed—not merely in recognition of Laras's endurance… but in keen analysis of how she had endured: through a deep, calculated understanding of the Éra system.
Across the arena, Raka Wirabumi rose slowly from his seat. His gaze was sharp. Thoughtful.
"That golem… it doesn't just absorb spells. It can reflect them—and now, even cast them. But those sigils on its back and chest… those aren't ordinary runes. Someone's binding Éra to it remotely."
He clenched his fist.
"This wasn't just a trial of strength. Someone's manipulating the rules."
He wasn't surprised. He had expected as much. This world was no more just than the one he left behind.
His eyes turned toward the exam control chamber.
And once again, suspicion flared in his heart—about who was truly pulling the strings behind this trial.