M.S. Davidson
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55. Registration
🕑 Added 2025-09-17 16:01:22 +0000 UTCI woke up in my bed, in my house—on another world.
For the first time in a while, everything felt surreal as I stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling. Red had sprawled across the other side of the admittedly massive bed, completely uninterested in consciousness and making little dog-dream noises.
Swinging my legs over the edge, I made my way into the kitchen. Narrin had given me a brief rundown of the house, mentioning that the Sentarians would keep the kitchen stocked on request.
Time to test that theory.
Grinning, I rifled through the cupboards, storing bread, cured meats, and anything remotely edible in my new soul-space storage. That I wasn't relying on an earring anymore felt incredible—though there seemed to be a hard limit to how much I could store now. I found it amusing that my soul was apparently smaller than an earring.
I opened another cupboard and froze.
A large burlap sack sat inside, and the smell hit me immediately.
My breath hitched as I pulled it open. Unroasted coffee beans. A couple of kilograms at least.
The Sentarians are officially my favorite people on this planet.
Since I lacked Earth's amenities, it took the better part of the morning roasting them in batches over a large pot. Thankfully, the kitchen functioned more like Katie's than Doreen's disaster zone, and I had plenty of practice from my barista days.
By the time I finished, a large bag of roasted coffee sat safely in my soul-space. If I were getting kicked off the planet, at least I'd have this liquid gold to remember Ark by.
A mortar and pestle, boiling water, and a makeshift pour-over contraption later, I finally had a cup of glorious, life-giving coffee.
Sipping it like liquid salvation, I wandered through my new house, exploring every nook and cranny. Somewhere, a small bell was tinkling, and I was determined to find the source.
Upon entering the courtyard, the sound grew louder. As I neared the front doors, realization dawned.
I had a literal doorbell. And I could sense someone on the other side.
Please don't be bad news. Please don't be bad news.
Shrugging, I threw the door open.
A small Albinus Vildar stood there, thick goggles pushed over her eyes, arms behind her back, looking thoroughly irritated with the universe.
"Lana!" I greeted with genuine enthusiasm. "How's Sylvarus treating you? Want to come inside?"
"Ben Crawford." She exhaled through her nose like she was trying to maintain professional composure. "You've had a busy week—far outpacing all projections I had for you. Incredible. And yet frustrating. Still the anomaly."
She lifted her goggles and eyed me with a toothy smile that promised either great fun or imminent pain.
"Today marks the start of Grand Tournament registration. I'm overseeing the process in La-Roc. Part of registration involves measuring your strength for placement." She cocked her head like a curious predator. "I will personally administer your tests. Make sure you don't disappoint me."
I took another long, fortifying swig of coffee and stored the half-full cup, leaning back through the door.
"Red, come on! We gotta go register!" I called.
The clatter of claws echoed through the courtyard before Red launched himself through the door like a furry missile, landing near Lana with a full-force sniff attack, his tail whipping around with dangerous enthusiasm.
"Oh yeah, you haven't met Lana. This is Red, my—"
"I know. He's your familiar. I've been keeping detailed records of your advancement." She shoved him away without looking, already focused elsewhere with single-minded intensity.
We took an entirely different path back to the surface than the one Narrin had shown me. I committed the route to memory as best I could—this exit brought us significantly closer to the Tower and led through a small, uninhabited building stacked with construction materials.
The streets of La-Roc had completely transformed overnight. Music floated through the air from different directions—bagpipes, likely from Maris's people, mixed with the delicate strumming of guzheng and guqin. People of all kinds filled the streets; children and mana beasts darted between colorful stalls, and laughter wove through the music like natural harmony.
But all of that was nothing compared to the courtyard in front of the Tower.
It had been completely transformed into something borderline carnival-like. Cheering filled the air as we climbed the steps, and the energy was infectious. A massive stone column fitted with metal stood at the center, right in front of the statue, adorned with a brass plate that gleamed in the morning sun.
One of Maris's Strikers in black robes stepped forward and struck the plate with a sharp crack. A burst of blue steam hissed from the pipes surrounding the column like an industrial symphony. A Gaian man with dark hair studied a large brass gauge on the other side, his expression focused.
"Forty-nine!" he called, his voice carrying over the crowd. Applause erupted as the Adjudicator scribbled the number onto a placard and slid it onto a pole already filled with results.
Curious, I jogged over and scanned the names. It was a ranking board labeled 'Power'—and I recognized several names. Erik sat at the top with eighty-nine points.
"They will aggregate these placements with the Sylvarus tests," Lana explained as she caught up. "The Grand Tournament is held there, after all. This is just local ranking." She sniffed dismissively. "Still, Maris's people insisted on conducting it here. Politics."
Another Hunter stepped forward—a Floran I didn't recognize. An official swapped the plate for a contraption holding a glowing sphere. The Floran formed a complicated hand gesture, and a blast of white-hot fire erupted outward like a dragon's breath.
I instinctively raised a hand against the scorching heat as an even larger burst of blue steam shot from the pipes with a piercing whistle that made my ears ring.
"Sixty-four!" the Adjudicator called, and cheers erupted from the crowd.
And this was just one event.
Crowds gathered at four more testing stations. One involved a raised platform enclosed in a cage, where a Vildar dodged flying rods, arcs of electricity, and other hazards with desperate agility. Another lined the courtyard walls—a suspended obstacle course where a woman in black robes struggled across, barely avoiding a twenty-foot drop onto the people below.
"This is fucking awesome," I said, wincing as a competitor took a bolt of electricity to the chest and kept going.
Lana barely glanced at the spectacle, already focused on business. "Follow me."
She led me to a larger platform set up in front of the Tower stairs, where Elena and several other officials sat behind a table, stamping manascripts with bureaucratic efficiency. When Elena spotted me, she motioned me forward with a professional smile.
"Nice of you to join us, Aspirant." She extended her hand expectantly.
I shook it, noting her firm grip and the way she studied my face.
"Place your hand on the manascript, please," she said with official authority.
I complied, watching as magical script flowed across the page in response to my touch. She nodded approvingly and stamped it with a definitive thunk.
"I'll leave the rest to her." Elena gestured to Lana with a wry smile. "She was... adamant that she administer the tests her way."
"Do I get to do all of them?" I asked, eyeing the various testing stations with growing excitement.
Lana pulled out her ever-present notebook, scribbling in her incomprehensible script. "You were terrified barely two weeks ago. Now you seem genuinely undaunted. Fascinating behavioral shift."
"You get to take part in everything," Elena answered with obvious amusement.
"We start with the power test," Lana announced, already leading Red and me back toward the column.
She hopped off to confer with the adjudicator while I watched competitors take their turns. The energy was infectious—people cheering, competitors pushing themselves to their limits, the entire atmosphere buzzing with anticipation.
Spotting a familiar face in the crowd, I pushed through the throng of bodies.
"Elizabeth!" I called out. "Good to see you!"
She beamed at me with genuine warmth. "Ben! I was hoping you'd show up today."
"Didn't know you were still in the city," I said, having to raise my voice over the crowd.
Cheers erupted as someone struck the plate with an impressive blow, momentarily drowning out conversation.
"Of course I stayed. I didn't want to leave before Cass..." She trailed off, her expression shifting to panic. "Fuck."
I raised an eyebrow. "Haven't seen her in a couple days. What's she up to?"
Elizabeth grimaced like she'd just betrayed state secrets. "It was supposed to be a secret."
I crossed my arms and gave her my best 'really?' look. "She's binding her Seal, isn't she?"
"No?" she tried weakly before immediately caving under my stare. "Okay, yes. She insisted she'd finish before registration. Chas is with her, making sure she doesn't do anything stupid."
"She's moving faster than me at this point," I laughed, genuinely proud of her determination. "That's incredible."
Elizabeth looked like she had more to say, but Lana's clipped voice cut through the crowd noise, calling for me with obvious impatience.
Red stayed put, content to soak up attention from the crowd, and I was ushered up to the column. I had to pull Valor's aura in tight—the sheer weight of focused attention was unnerving. I could hear people whispering about me, speculating, betting.
The plate sat at a reasonable height, so I walked up, took a steadying breath, and glanced at Lana.
"Give it everything you've got, Breaker," she said, watching intently with her notebook and pencil poised to document everything.
Seemed simple enough—everyone else had just punched the thing. I reeled back, let a quick mana burn surge through my arm, and threw everything I had into the strike.
The impact rang like a bell. The plate didn't just dent—it split completely in half with a sharp crack that echoed across the courtyard.
Blue steam erupted from the pipes in a violent hiss, and a shrill whistle filled the air like a train pulling into the station.
"Seventy-five!" the Adjudicator called, his voice carrying a note of surprise.
The crowd went silent for a heartbeat—then whispers rippled through the gathered people like wildfire. Then the cheers erupted, loud and enthusiastic.
Lana strolled over, already scribbling furiously. "That was a Seeker-level plate. It cannot measure above seventy-five points." She passed a handful of red coins to the judge with casual authority. "Give him an Adept plate."
The man hesitated, clearly not used to this kind of request, then scrambled to a locked box, pulling out a thick black plate twice the size of the one I'd just destroyed.
"Breaker's gonna hit an Adept plate!" someone shouted from the crowd.
The name caught and spread like wildfire, rippling through the assembled people as they surged forward to get a better view. The weight of their focused attention pressed down on me like a physical force. Valor amplified every stare, every whispered comment, every pulse of anticipation.
Then I had a thought. I was supposed to be a Paladin, right? The whole point was to be seen, to inspire.
I took a slow, centering breath—then let Valor out completely. For the first time since forming my Seal, I didn't bother holding the aura back and let it spread as far as it could reach.
My perception expanded, washing over hundreds of fixated gazes. The anticipation was electric, but barely anyone was looking at me anymore. They were all transfixed by the plate being carefully fitted into the pillar.
Lana had stopped scribbling, presumably sensing the shift in my aura. Without looking up, she flipped back several pages in her notebook and circled something twice with obvious satisfaction.
As they secured the new plate, she whispered just loud enough for me to hear: "Hit it like you did Jeremy. I would have very much liked to witness that encounter."
I took a deep breath and moved through a few Tai Chi forms, syncing my body and soul into perfect harmony. When I was sure I was centered, I briefly ignited a mana burn and snapped out a cannon punch that cracked like thunder.
The plate held—barely—but the whistle that followed was an ear-piercing shriek that made everyone in the courtyard wince.
The adjudicator studied the gauge with wide eyes, hesitated like he couldn't believe the reading, then murmured something to Lana before calling out loud enough for everyone to hear: "Eighty-six!"
He repeated himself, his voice carrying clearly across the suddenly silent courtyard: "Eighty-six!"
The courtyard exploded with cheers so loud I felt them in my chest. The judge slid my name just under Erik's on the ranking pole, and I caught murmurs from several black-robed figures about not wanting to be on the receiving end of that punch.
I grinned widely. Maris's people, and I was already ahead of most of them.
As the crowd slowly settled, Lana motioned for me to follow. I glanced back at Elizabeth and Red but lost them in the surge of excited people. My aura could pick them up in a general direction, but there were so many bodies it was actually difficult to isolate them.
"Winters is an early Adept, but his strength is well beyond his cultivation level," Lana mused as we walked. "To be this close in such a short time span is truly fascinating from a developmental perspective."
She barely paused before adding with obvious anticipation: "The Versatility test is my favorite. I'll be running it myself."
She flashed me a wicked grin that belonged on a shark as we approached the hazard trial platform.
Sighing dramatically, I stretched my arms and rolled my shoulders. "I just did one of these in the Trial Grounds yesterday."
Lana lifted her goggles, her analytical expression sharpening. "I'd love to hear about that. Grand Mistress Aldertree refused to give me any details, which is highly unusual."
"Dara spanked me over a barrel," I said with a dismissive wave, repeating Diana's exact words.
Lana stopped dead in her tracks, whirling on me with sudden intensity.
"I categorically reject that story, Ben Crawford." She practically snarled. "Diana said exactly the same thing, word for word. For someone supposedly dedicated to helping Runebinders advance, Dara's avarice is practically legendary! That she refuses to discuss it speaks volumes."
I opened my mouth to reply when—CRACK.
A wooden rod slammed into the woman inside the testing cage and sent her flying into a chain reaction of hazards. The test shut down instantly as officials rushed in to help the battered competitor.
The crowd winced collectively, going still as officials lifted her out and administered what looked like a healing pill.
"Twenty-one!" a judge called out. Weak, sympathetic applause followed.
I exhaled slowly as Lana guided me over to the judge. After exchanging a few quick words, he backed away hastily. Another competitor was about to enter the cage when the judge stopped them, pointing in my direction. Their eyes widened as they stepped aside immediately.
What the hell did she tell him?
The hazards looked far more menacing now that I was actually inside the enclosure. Long poles covered in protruding wooden rods loomed around me like medieval torture devices, alongside silver discs scattered across the floor that looked suspiciously like the mana traps I'd collected in Rainhaven. Above, several contraptions mounted to the cage's ceiling resembled ballistas designed by someone with serious anger management issues.
This cage is literally a death trap.
"The objective is to avoid being hit," Lana announced from an ominous-looking control panel just outside the cage. Beside her, she'd stacked red coins like a kid ready to feed an arcade machine. "Blocking a hazard results in reduced points. Direct hits will affect your final score based on severity. Step to the center when you're ready."
Sighing, I moved cautiously to the center of the enclosure, extending Valor's aura to just within the cage's edges. I met Lana's gaze as she lifted her goggles, her analytical expression replaced with something disturbingly predatory.
She made a quick flourish with her hand, and Valor instantly screamed at me to move. I sidestepped, barely dodging several projectiles fired simultaneously from around the cage. They smacked against the stone floor with sharp pops, and I caught sight of one rolling nearby.
"Wooden balls?" I shouted at Lana, incredulous. "Are you kidding me? Those things are gonna hurt like hell!"
Lana's smile only grew more wicked as I twisted to evade an onslaught of wooden rods, narrowly ducking beneath another barrage of flying projectiles. All the while, I had to be hyper-aware of where I placed my feet—Valor might sense incoming threats, but it wouldn't save me from ground-based traps.
Thank you, Hildy's Kitchen Training.
What Dara's golem had possessed in sophisticated quality, this cage made up for in sheer chaotic quantity. Sweat soaked through my shirt as I darted around the enclosure, dodging increasingly frantic attacks from every direction. It wasn't overwhelming—yet—but I was wondering just how long this test was supposed to last.
Edging toward Lana's side of the cage, I weaved between hazards while keeping my footing careful. "Hey, does this thing have higher difficulty settings?" I asked, flashing her a confident grin.
Lana shot me a look as if I were the absolute bane of her existence. Without breaking eye contact, she swept the remaining red coins off the console, rummaged inside her robe, and slammed down a silver coin with dramatic flair.
My grin vanished instantly as electricity began crackling between the floor traps and the cage's ceiling.
"Oh, shit!" was all I managed before everything escalated simultaneously—rods snapped toward me at ridiculous speeds, wooden projectiles rained from every direction, and arcs of lightning struck randomly, forcing me to twist, dodge, and pray I wasn't about to get electrocuted.
The pace was absolutely impossible. I lasted maybe ten seconds before I had to make a brutal choice: take a volley of wooden balls to the face or let a rod crack me across the ass.
I didn't miss the innuendo, even as the rod connected hard enough to flip me headfirst toward the floor—right next to a silver disc that looked way too eager to discharge a bolt of lightning.
Burning mana in desperation, I slammed my hands down and launched myself backward. Midair, I took multiple projectiles to the chest and arms, narrowly avoiding a rod swinging for my head. I hit the ground with a pained groan—just as everything went abruptly, mercifully silent.
Two hunters rushed in and lifted me carefully to my feet. The moment they touched me, the full collection of injuries slammed into my awareness all at once.
"Ow," I muttered, trying to salvage whatever dignity I had left as they helped me from the enclosure.
One hunter offered me a healing pill, but I waved him off and forced myself to stand upright. The sliver of white mana in my pathways drifted lazily through my system, gradually soothing bruises with each pass. Passive healing was definitely convenient—way better than manually guiding the energy—but painfully slow.
The courtyard had gone deathly quiet as the judges conferred with Lana in hushed tones. Then, an all-too-familiar, all-too-irritating scoff shattered the moment.
"Got your ass kicked, huh?" Dorian sneered, striding up with Darryl and Malcolm in tow. "Serves you right, thinking you had what it takes to compete with real Runebinders."
Malcolm sighed heavily—a sigh that spoke of deep, existential exhaustion with Dorian's perpetual bullshit. I wondered how their conversation about Maris had gone.
I shot my hand out to Malcolm, who clasped it firmly in a proper handshake. The kid had a real grip.
Both Malcolm and Dorian stared as an especially nasty bruise on my forearm slowly faded as it healed before their eyes. Malcolm grinned with obvious fascination. Dorian's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"One..." The judge hesitated, and Dorian's smug laughter started building—only to die instantly when the judge finished, loud and clear: "Hundred... and seven!"
The entire courtyard turned toward me in stunned disbelief. A shocked silence stretched across the crowd like a held breath.
"Good to see you, Malcolm," I said warmly, giving his hand one last squeeze before releasing it.
Then, as the judge placed my name at the very top of the Versatility pole, I turned to Dorian and smiled sweetly.
"Fuck you, Dorian."
