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The streets buzzed with activity as carriages bearing the insignias of noble families arrived, escorted by armored guards. Every decade, the kingdom hosted the Grand Selection, a competition designed to uncover talents that could define Aldreth’s future. But this was not just a contest—it was a battlefield for prestige, alliances, and influence. For many, it was an opportunity to rise above their birth and prove their worth to the ruling elite.

Yet, Sylas suspected deeper forces at play. Power struggles, hidden alliances, and unknown factions lurking in the shadows—it was clear that not all participants sought victory through honorable means.

The Grand Selection drew more than just noble houses. Academies, guilds, independent cultivators, commoners with aspirations of greatness, and mercenaries seeking fortune all flooded the capital. Inns, taverns, and restaurants overflowed with travelers, each carrying ambitions that would either be fulfilled or crushed. The entire city pulsed with expectation—this gathering would reshape the fates of many.

In the city\'s main square, representatives from various institutions had already established their presence. Among them were the Emberlight Academy, the Shadowcrest Academy, and the Iron Fang Guild—each known for producing powerful cultivators and leaders.

Emberlight Academy was a prestigious institution within the kingdom, focusing on elemental and martial cultivation. It was considered a place where young talents refined their combat prowess and honed their mastery of elemental arts. Banners of gold and white adorned their encampment, and instructors carefully observed potential candidates moving through the streets.

Shadowcrest Academy, a rival of Emberlight, specialized in mental techniques, illusions, and intelligence gathering. It was smaller in number but wielded great influence in the kingdom’s internal affairs. Their emissary, a robed figure with piercing silver eyes, stood in silence, gauging the worth of those passing by.

The Iron Fang Guild was known for training mercenaries and bounty hunters, taking in anyone who could survive their brutal tests. Unlike academies, they did not care for noble lineage or family backing—only raw ability. Their leader, Varkas, a veteran warrior, watched the swelling crowd with a discerning gaze, looking for the next generation of hardened fighters.

Other notable organizations included the Verdant Hand, an order of herbalists and alchemists who searched for prodigies skilled in medicinal arts, and the Titan’s Grasp, a warrior sect known for its emphasis on raw physical power. The Arcane Nexus, a reclusive society devoted to deciphering lost cultivation techniques, maintained a quiet presence, their agents mingling among scholars and seekers of knowledge.

Inside a gilded carriage, Sylas sat in quiet contemplation. House Aldreth had spent days preparing for the journey, his father strictly forbidding him from participating in the competition. But Sylas was no longer fixated on that. Observation was a greater tool than reckless ambition, and he had been consuming every piece of knowledge he could find—about cultivation, history, and the kingdom’s political structure. He was beginning to see the deeper web beneath the surface.

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Outside, knights clad in golden-etched armor rode in formation, their disciplined movements a testament to House Aldreth’s martial prowess. Their banners, emblazoned with a silver falcon soaring over a midnight-blue field, signified wisdom, vigilance, and dominion. House Aldreth was not just another noble house—it was among the kingdom’s most prestigious, a legacy built on both power and intellect. At their head was Sylas’s eldest brother, Rael Aldreth, his sun-forged spear gleaming under the daylight. To the kingdom’s people, he was a champion, an heir worthy of admiration.

Sylas knew better.

Rael was powerful, but power alone was not enough.

As they neared the city, Sylas turned to his mother and requested permission to explore the capital upon their arrival. Lady Aldreth hesitated but relented, setting a firm condition—he would be accompanied by a guard at all times and must return before the banquet. A faint smile crossed Sylas’s lips. That was enough.

The streets overflowed with life. Merchants hawked their wares, commoners gawked at the noble processions, and spies—both trained and amateur—watched from the shadows, their gazes flickering with curiosity and hidden intent. This was a world dictated by strength, and Sylas intended to uncover the true foundation upon which it stood.

He wandered through the bustling districts, his keen eyes absorbing every detail. The Market District was a sea of color and sound, where exotic goods from all over the kingdom were displayed. Jewelers, alchemists, blacksmiths, and merchants shouted their wares, their voices blending into the lively chaos. Further down, the Scholar’s Quarter stood in stark contrast—quiet, refined, filled with libraries, academies, and discussion halls where intellectuals debated the nature of cultivation and philosophy.

A sudden hush fell over the marketplace as a group of cloaked figures passed through. The way the crowd instinctively moved aside without confrontation told Sylas all he needed to know—these were not mere travelers.

Elsewhere, House Valecourt’s forces moved with the speed of a thunderclap. Their patriarch, Lord Valecourt, led the charge with an air of supreme confidence, his gaze fixed on the towering capital gates. A house known for its dominion over lightning affinity, their warriors embodied the swiftness and devastation of a storm. His eldest son, Lucien Valecourt, rode beside him, his very presence crackling with barely restrained energy.

House Ravencroft never announced its arrival with grandeur. Their influence was felt, not seen. Their carriages were unmarked, their guards clad in dark attire, weapons hidden but ever ready. Masters of the shadow affinity, their existence thrived in secrecy and manipulation. Seraphina Ravencroft, the house’s enigmatic prodigy, peered from behind the tinted curtains. The competition would be a stage—a perfect opportunity to test the limits of her illusions, assassinations, and whispers of fear.

Flames trailed in the wake of House Emberlane’s arrival. Their banners blazed with deep reds and golds, their presence unmistakable. Lord Emberlane led with a commanding aura, his gaze sweeping across the onlookers who had gathered. Fire affinity coursed through their lineage, an unrelenting blaze that consumed all in its path.

As the noble houses converged upon the capital, the undercurrents of rivalry grew stronger. Though veiled in formality, the streets echoed with hushed whispers.

Who would emerge victorious? Which house would gain favor? Who would fall from grace?

Yet beyond the spectacle, Sylas knew that unseen hands were already at work. Spies, assassins, and foreign agents had infiltrated the city, each with their own agendas. The Grand Selection was more than just a contest—it was an opportunity for those lurking in the shadows to shift the balance of power.

And in the midst of it all, Sylas Aldreth watched and waited. He might not have the ability to sense energy like others, but his mind was his greatest weapon.

And he was determined to unravel the secrets hidden within the capital’s walls.