Council Chamber of Veyrith Academy
Deep within the administrative wing of Veyrith Academy, behind a large circular emblem bearing the sigil of the nexus's Guild, six figures (total 20 members) sat around a round obsidian table. The room was cast in soft amber light, shielded from the outside world. Walls of silenced glass absorbed every whisper, and a single drone hovered silently above the table, recording the confidential proceedings.
The members of the Admissions Council—each a high-ranking tamer or administrator—reviewed the footage of Testing Arena 3 on a floating screen above the centre.
A woman with sharp features and silver-streaked hair leaned forward. She narrowed her eyes on the creature beside the blind, mute boy now seated quietly in the arena below.
"This isn't a standard classification," she murmured, tapping the screen. "From what I see… definitely Water-type, but mutated. There's Electric energy threading through her aura matrix."
She looked around. "What kind of Whisp is that?"
Before anyone could respond, a thick-necked man in a dark blue jacket—his nameplate read Administrator Ralden—grunted and leaned back in his seat with a dismissive scoff.
"Mutated or not, the boy shouldn't even be in the test. He's blind. He can't speak. He's not qualified. Let's contact the Tamer Alliance, have them investigate and take the Whisp into proper custody."
He smirked. "We offer the boy some credits. Maybe a sympathy medal. Done."
Then added coldly, "Or just confiscate the creature. He's in no position to fight back."
The silence that followed was thick and contemptuous.
All five other council members turned and stared at him as if he'd just spat on the academy floor.
Then—snap!
A sharp sound cracked the air. The man with the bald, polished head—Master Keillor, the head instructor of Recruitment Board—had raised a single finger.
Without a word, the AI drone scanned Administrator Ralden. A red glyph appeared over his chest. The chair beneath him slid backward and turned.
The man was ejected from the room without grace.
"Wha—!?" Ralden jumped up in shock outside the sealed door, pounding on the glass. "You can't just—!"
But the guard stationed outside didn't flinch. A second later, a voice growled from behind the wall-mounted speaker:
"Go fuck off, you boneless dickhead."
Ralden's face paled. He backed away slowly.
Back inside, tension lingered like static.
Master Keillor tapped the table. "Let's move on."
Another council member, a younger man with too much cologne and too little backbone, asked nervously, "So… are we still considering the boy?"
A moment of quiet. Then the woman with the silver streak—Professor Renaris, head of Whisp Mutation Research—stood and spoke:
"Let's put sentiment aside," she said. "I'll keep it simple. If even one of us raises their hand to sponsor him as a candidate, he enters. If not, we erase the footage and move on."
She looked around the room.
At first—nothing. Just silence.
Each of them had wanted him earlier. Or more precisely—they wanted his Whisp. But now that they saw who she was bonded to… a blind, mute boy… their interest dulled. None of them wanted the complications. The paperwork. The press backlash. The moral weight.
Their hands stayed still.
Master Keillor sighed. He moved a finger toward his holo-screen to initiate the candidate rejection sequence.
But just as he tapped—Renaris's voice cut in again.
"I'll sponsor him."
Everyone looked up, shocked.
The youngest council member blinked. "You… what?"
Professor Renaris nodded slowly, voice firm. "I've made my decision."
Master Keillor paused.
"Are you certain?" he asked.
She answered with calm finality: "I am."
He sighed again, then gave a slight smile. "Then Jimmy of Corsba Town passes the first stage."
A grumbling voice muttered across the table, "But we only have three seats left. If we give one to him, another more qualified candidate might lose their spot."
Snap.
Another chair turned red.
That grumbler found himself sliding toward the exit.
"Next time, speak sense," Keillor muttered.
Renaris glanced down at the screen. "There are three remaining seats. Two students have already cleared. With Jimmy, we're full. No quotas broken."
Keillor nodded. "Then so be it."
He tapped again.
[Candidate #1793 - Jimmy - Status: PASSED - Awaiting Combat Evaluation]
In the Arena
Down in the waiting area, a quiet notification chimed from a panel nearby.
Jimmy heard the soft tone and turned his ear toward it.
A second later, a voice from a mounted speaker echoed calmly:
"Candidate Jimmy—You have passed the theoretical and interview evaluations. Please wait for 30 minutes. Your combat opponent is being selected. Do not leave the arena."
Jimmy tilted his head back against the bench, silent. Luna curled beside him, her tail flicking gently across his lap.
He heard no applause. No cheers. But he didn't need them.
He had passed.
And now… the real test would begin.