The 612 candidates spread across the clearing, each finding a spot to sit and begin meditation. Food and tents were provided daily, and Carlos circulated to offer guidance, but the work itself was solitary.
Days turned into weeks.
Some candidates seemed to grasp the concept quickly, their faces showing concentration and occasional flickers of understanding. Others struggled, frustration mounting as they failed to sense anything different from normal.
Laurel found himself sinking into a strange state during meditation. At first, there was nothing—just the usual darkness behind closed eyelids, the sound of his own breathing. But gradually, he began to notice something else. A warmth. A flow. Like a river running beneath his skin, branching and converging at specific points throughout his body.
On the fourteenth day, he opened his eyes and knew.
He could feel it now—the Pulse Nodes, dozens of them scattered across his body. And more importantly, he could sense how to close them, stopping the constant leak of vital energy that he'd never known was happening.
"Carlos," he called out, standing up.
The supervisor approached, evaluated him with a practiced eye, then nodded. "Show me."
Laurel closed his eyes and consciously shut down the Pulse Nodes in his left arm. The limb immediately felt different—heavier, but also more stable, like he'd stopped bleeding from a wound he hadn't known existed.
"Good," Carlos said. "You've mastered Stage One. Two weeks—that's extremely fast. Average is five months."
Nelson took longer. Day after day, he meditated, growing increasingly frustrated as he watched his brother advance while he remained stuck. But on the forty-second day, something finally clicked. He gasped, eyes flying open, and immediately sought out Carlos.
"I've got it," he said breathlessly. "I can feel them."
Carlos tested him, then smiled. "Forty-second day. Still well above average. Good work."
Out of 612 candidates, only about a hundred had mastered Stage One by the end of the second month.
Those who had mastered Pulse Control were gathered separately by Carlos for the next phase of training.
"Stage Two: Infusion," he explained. "Now that you can control your vital energy, you need to learn to extend it beyond your body. Think of any object as an extension of yourself—an extra limb. Pour your vital energy into it, and it will respond."
He demonstrated by picking up a simple wooden stick. As they watched, the stick began to glow faintly, then suddenly became rigid as steel. Carlos struck it against a rock, and the rock cracked while the stick remained undamaged.
"This stage is much easier than the first," he continued. "Most people master it within a month once they understand the principle."
He was right. Within days, Laurel had learned to infuse his knife with vital energy, making it sharp enough to cut through materials that should have been impossible. Nelson mastered infusing his hands, allowing him to strike with significantly more force.
By the end of the month, both brothers had completed Stage Two, along with about sixty other candidates.
Carlos gathered the successful candidates again, but this time his expression was grave.
"Stage Three: Creation," he said. "This is where things become truly difficult. You're going to convert your vital energy into actual constructs—weapons, tools, even complex objects. But here's the catch: you can only create what you truly understand. Every detail, every component, every principle of how something works and what it's made of."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"This is why most people stick to creating just one or two items and spend their entire lives perfecting them rather than trying to master multiple forms. The mental complexity is staggering."
"Remember," Carlos continued, his voice hard, "every time you use Vitra, you're spending from a finite pool that never refills. Manage your energy wisely, or you won't live long enough to regret it."
He gestured toward a supply tent. "You have the rest of this year to develop combat applications using at least Stage Two, though Stage Three mastery will significantly increase your evaluation score. When the year is up, you'll be tested based on the strength and effectiveness of your techniques. Pass, and you advance to a rank appropriate to your power level. Fail..." He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.
The candidates dispersed, each contemplating what they wanted to create.
The year passed slowly. Candidates experimented, failed, tried again. The clearing became a laboratory of impossible things as people learned to manifest their vital energy into physical forms.
Some created weapons—swords of pure energy, spears that could extend and retract at will. Others focused on defensive constructs—shields, barriers, armor. A few attempted more complex creations and struggled with the mental demands.
Laurel pushed himself to master Stage Three completely. He learned to pour massive amounts of vital energy into his fists, creating devastating striking power while also learning to manifest a knife when needed—something he understood intimately from years of use. His techniques were simple but brutally effective.
Nelson also reached Stage Three, taking a different approach. He experimented with concentrating vital energy into his palms or fingertips, compressing it into spherical forms. When released, these spheres exploded on contact with concussive force that could shatter stone. He refined the technique over months, learning to control the size and power of each sphere.
Maya struggled with Stage Three. While she had mastered the first two stages competently, she couldn't quite grasp the complexity of creating constructs from vital energy. Her techniques using Infusion were solid, but they lacked the raw power needed to impress the evaluation.
As the year's end approached, tension mounted. Not everyone had succeeded in developing viable combat applications.
When the final day arrived, Carlos gathered all 612 original candidates—though only about eighty had progressed past Stage One.
"Demonstration time," he announced. "I will evaluate each of you based on the strength and effectiveness of your techniques. Your rank will be determined by your combat capability, not by how many stages you've mastered. Remember that."
One by one, candidates stepped forward to demonstrate their abilities. Carlos watched each performance with a critical eye, occasionally asking them to demonstrate again or to show their techniques under pressure.
When Laurel's turn came, he demonstrated his enhancement technique—pouring massive amounts of vital energy into his fists and delivering strikes that shattered training dummies and cracked stone. Then he manifested his knife, showing both precision and power in its application.
Carlos nodded approvingly. "Elite rank. Your techniques are devastating and well-controlled. You've earned it."
Nelson demonstrated his explosive spheres, showing how he could vary their size and power, how quickly he could generate them, and their destructive capability.
"Amateur rank," Carlos declared. "Your technique is solid and has good potential, but you need more refinement and combat experience before I can rate you higher."
Maya's turn came, and she demonstrated her Infusion techniques—enhancing her naginata, reinforcing her body for defense. But compared to others, her applications lacked the raw power or versatility needed.
Carlos shook his head. "Insufficient. You've mastered the basics, but your techniques aren't strong enough to qualify for advancement."
Maya's face went pale. "What does that mean?"
Carlos's expression was grim. "It means you failed."
When all the demonstrations concluded, Carlos announced the results.
"Thirteen passed with sufficient combat capability to advance beyond beginner rank. As for the rest of you..."
What happened next would haunt Laurel for years. The military personnel who had been stationed around the camp moved with sudden, practiced efficiency. Those who had failed—including Maya—were separated from the others.
And then, methodically, they were executed.
The sound of gunfire echoed across Lunecia as 599 people died for failing to meet the standard.
Laurel and Nelson stood frozen, unable to process what they were witnessing. Maya, who they had fought alongside, trained with, was among the dead.
"This is the reality of the adventurer's world," Carlos said quietly as the shooting stopped. "Failure means death. Not because we're cruel, but because sending unprepared adventurers through portals gets them killed anyway—often after they've endangered entire teams. Better a quick death here than a slow one in some nightmare dimension."
He let that sink in before continuing.
"The thirteen of you have earned your advancement. Your ranks have been determined by the strength of your techniques and your combat capability."
When the final assessments were complete, the results were announced. Laurel had achieved Elite rank—one of only two candidates to reach that level. Nelson was awarded Amateur rank along with nine others. Two candidates achieved a rank between Amateur and Elite based on their specialized techniques.
After receiving their new licenses, Carlos gathered the thirteen survivors for one final briefing.
"You need to understand the structure of how adventurers operate," he explained. "There are two primary roles: Scouts and Agents."
"Scouts are the explorers. When a new portal manifests, Scouts go in first. They map the territory, study the civilization or environment, identify valuable resources, and assess threats. They determine whether a portal is worth full exploration or should be abandoned."
"Agents are the operators. Using intelligence gathered by Scouts, they execute specific missions—retrieval of artifacts, elimination of threats, establishment of outposts, whatever the situation demands."
He pulled out a tablet. "Each of you will choose your specialization now. Think carefully—your choice will determine what types of missions you're assigned."
The thirteen candidates accessed their Adventurer Apps, where two options now appeared: Scout or Agent.
Laurel had an idea.
"Nelson," he whispered, "what if we split up? I'll choose Scout, you choose Agent. That way we can get missions from both sides, cover more ground, maybe find information about Dad faster."
Nelson considered this, then nodded. "Smart. Let's do it."
Laurel selected Scout. Nelson selected Agent.
Their apps updated immediately with their new designations and ranks:
**Laurel: Elite Scout**
**Nelson: Amateur Agent**
"Good choices," Carlos said, reviewing their selections. "You'll receive your first assignments within forty-eight hours. Until then, you're dismissed. Return through the portal to Blackwater Ridge and await further instructions."
As the thirteen survivors made their way back to the portal, leaving behind the mass grave of those who had failed, Laurel couldn't shake the weight of what he'd witnessed.
They had survived. They had advanced. They were now true adventurers.
But the cost had been staggering, and the real challenges, he suspected, were just beginning.