A/N: To any who may be wondering, Vegas' name is indeed pronounced the same way as it is in "Las Vegas." A friend read it as "Vee-gass" and I found it pretty hilarious.

Towerpoint was a massive tower made of gray, smooth stone. While the architecture within was generally outstanding, even by Adalian standards, the whole complex was a slate color and uninspiring to behold because of this. It was a dreadful appearance, as cold as the eternal winter that the tower resided in.

It was the place that all children of Raslan, the Orate, Uring, and even the Tear looked up to. Backyard fights between siblings all over the continent raged as children and teenagers sparred with the hopes that they'd become strong enough to go to Towerpoint and be selected to start the journey of a Prospect. Next to becoming a Guide, becoming an Absolver was the most prestigious thing a person could do.

The aspiring Prospects that Vegas and Tiwaz had observed returned to their barracks, each with varying degrees of disappointment from their failed audition. It was the second to last day of the yearly Selection, which meant that only one or two Prospects would be selected on the final day and everyone else would have to return home hanging their heads. Considering that they had just witnessed a double selection, it was very unlikely that two would be selected the next day. In other words, a few dozen Prospects were now all at odds with each other, vying for the final position of the year. This caused some friendships to become strained, as people who came with a friend hoping to both be selected realized that there was no longer a very realistic possibility that they would receive their wish.

Particularly fazed by this revelation were the inseparable friends, Sophiel and Elijah. She and he were like brother and sister.

As the pair walked down an undecorated hallway, Elijah was drooping slightly. His friend gave a light slap on the shoulder. "Get your chin up, Eli," pleaded Sophiel, "There's still one more day, one more chance."

"Yeah, I know. Just disheartening to be last pick, you know?"

Sophiel chuckled. She knew that he was frequently picked last for team based games back home. "Don't worry. We've got this, I'm sure of it."

"Mhm. Hey, I forgot to ask one of the Guides a question. Go on ahead, I'll catch up," responded Elijah. Sophiel nodded in response and continued on her path, aware that he was lying.

Elijah turned and backtracked down the hall they were striding through, taking several turns that would lead him up to the second balcony, the same one from which two Absolvers observed today's selection. He needed a good place to think, and that balcony had offered him solace for the past thirty days. An Absolver in white walked past him in a hurry, not paying him any mind. Elijah was relieved: he wasn't sure if he was even allowed to be up there, and feared punishment by the man in Missionary robes.

Eli successfully made it up and onto the unpopulated balcony and leaned on the short wall from which onlookers would watch the Selection. He noted that the spot he chose was slightly warm, as if someone had just been resting there. He brooded over the pressure that fell on him that day.

Double selections of Prospects happened maybe ten times out of the thirty-one day Selection, and almost never happened two days in a row. Even if the thirty-first pick was a double, the odds that it would be him and Sophiel were slim to none, especially because Elijah didn't quite have the confidence to be desirable and he knew it. Sophie, on the other hand, still hadn't given up hope. She was a good fighter, too. It was odd that she hadn't been picked yet.

Unbeknownst to Elijah, she peered upon him from the doorway he entered from. Contrasting Elijah's anxiety was Sophiel's worry. She couldn't help but ponder the possibility that he was afraid of being separated from her, not afraid of the journey the Guides intended for him. That wouldn't make a difference to the Guides: any kind of fear would get him omitted. She wanted to help him in some way, but felt that approaching him would just cause him to feel even more helpless, even deeper in her shadow. She regretted casting that shadow, wishing instead that Elijah would shine his own light. She always talked to him with an optimistic attitude, but subconsciously knew that they were unlikely to be selected together. Sophiel sat, peering through the doorway at her friend for some substantial period of time. Night fell, heralded by little sconces of Essence on the walls lighting up. When she saw Elijah standing up to return to his room, she too stood, hurrying back to her room to avoid a possible encounter with him.

Elijah shuffled back to the door he came from. It was cracked open already, but he didn't notice and walked through it to encounter nobody. The halls were dimly lit by the Essence. He could head right, which would take him to his room, or he could go straight, which lead into the quarters of the Absolvers. The Absolver hall was abnormally dark in comparison to the other hallway. Figuring that he only had one more day here at Towerpoint and that it wouldn't hurt to be a little adventurous, he headed straight and into the nearly black hall.

The doors were constructed from wood, a stark contrast to the rest of the tower. They had names carved into them. Some were recognizable to him, the more heroic and famous Absolvers that he would hear stories of. He glided his fingers across the names as he walked down the hall. In the faint light, he tripped.

The Prospect didn't handle the fall very well, his masked face planting into the stone floor. He slowly stood, brushing some dust off of himself. He turned around to see what he had tripped over; he was shocked to discover that it was a person. The figure on the floor stirred with their back against the wall. He performed some small motion with his hands, causing a short-lived golden light to shine within them. He was Folding. The lights in the hall brightened up.

The man on the ground looked up at the Prospect, now doused in light. "You know, I'd tell you to watch where you're going, but that was kinda my fault for sleeping in the hallway," said the black-clad man. He stood, stretching and yawning. "I can guiltlessly ask you, though, what a Prospect is doing in the Absolver hallway, especially this late."

"I-uh-er, sorry! I was just...lost, yeah."

"No, you weren't."

Elijah winced at how quickly his lie failed. He sighed. "I was exploring. I know that I won't get selected, so I was just wandering around because I won't be back for another year."

"Why do you 'know' that you won't be selected?"

"I came with a friend. If either of us are going to be picked, it'd be her."

"Why can't it be both of you?" inquired the man, who had a bloodstain on his mask that bothered Elijah.

"Today was a double pick."

"Hm. Well, I can't tell you that you're wrong," bluntly said Vegas.

"Are you an Absolver?"

"Take a wild guess."

"That's a 'yeah'. Look, you guys are generally good at judging people, right?"

"Not necessarily."

Elijah came to the conclusion that the man was in a sour mood. He sighed again. "Can you just tell me what's wrong with me?"

Vegas tilted his head at such an odd question. "Uh...you're a Prospect in the wrong hall?"

"No, not that. Things like character or integrity, all that crap that the Guides use to judge Prospects."

Vegas waited for a second, sizing up the teen in front of him. He inspected his posture, analyzed his speaking pattern. "Hmm...if I had to guess, you don't have the drive. Well, not that you don't have any drive, but the pressure is stronger than your drive."

"How do I fix that?"

"You think that you won't be selected because your friend would be picked before you. Don't. You aren't here to be picked, you're here to get picked, you get it?"

"No, that doesn't make any sense."

Vegas laughed. "Probably not. I mean that the Selection isn't something that you receive. It's something you take, in a sense. You need to be more willing to take your place than every other Prospect is willing to take theirs. Openly thinking that your friend is more likely to take their place than you are puts you at the bottom. You need to be on top."

"So, like confidence?"

"Yeah. Think about it. You go into a fight fearing that you'll lose and you'll probably lose. Go in willing to win and you'll probably win. The Guides want winners. Who's your friend, anyway?"

"Her name's Sophiel. I've known her since we were kids, but she would always beat me when we sparred. She hasn't given up hope like I sort of have."

Vegas was immediately reminded of Risryn. It reminded him that today was the worst day of his life. He grimaced under his mask.

"Yeah, I've been...exactly where you are." Vegas thought back to the year where he was up for audition. He remembered being afraid that Risryn would be selected and that he wouldn't. He told this to another Prospect, who only ridiculed him over it and said that he surely wouldn't be selected. Vegas became even more self-deprecating, but the Prospect insulted Risryn while ridiculing him. Vegas became angry and started a fight with the other Prospect. He was victorious, and he gained the confidence that he believe contributed to his subsequent selection. "Your friend's a stupid loser." Vegas almost laughed saying that.

"What?"

"Your friend. Sophiel or something? Total chump, won't get picked."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because it's true. She sucks, you probably do too."

"Well, you don't need to be such a jerk about it! Gods!"

"The gods won't do anything about it. The Guides won't do anything about it. You won't do anything about it."

Elijah glared at the man through the cracked eye of his mask. The man kept going. "That burning you feel? Is it...shame? Are you ashamed of being such a wimp, living in the shadow of a failure?"

Elijah growled and snapped. He winded up a punch, a wide hook. Vegas expected it ever since he began egging him on, and he could have easily dodged or parried the telegraphed attack, but didn't. He actually decided to stick his chin out a bit to receive the hit. Elijah connected cleanly with Vegas' mask, knocking him to the ground at least a meter away. Vegas spoke. "Ow, damn. That hurt. I have good news for you, guy." Elijah gave a short, questioning "Huh?" in response.

"I could feel the anger behind that punch, and it was pretty strong, too. You could be a good fighter, if you just get your emotions under wraps. That anger you felt when I insulted your friend? You need to be able to get angry like that whenever you want. On the other hand, though, that punch was too wide and obvious: it means that the anger prevented you from thinking."

"Wait, so you didn't mean any of that mean stuff you were saying?"

"No, course not, I couldn't care a whole lot less about your friend. You can't just let yourself get pissy when something specific is said, you need to be able to call on your power at any moment. But you also need to control that rage in such a way that you remain practical."

"I...see."

"Too little rage and you'll be weak. Too little control and you'll be ineffective. Keep your passion under your command, though, you'll be dominant. Get it?"

"Yeah."

"That's what the Guides look for in a fighter. In a person, they look for loyalty, which you've already shown by defending your friend's honor, and they look for an indomitable will. No fear. You have everything you need except that last part."

"How do I get that?"

"Come with me." Vegas walked past the Prospect. He moved down a few short hallways, before coming out onto the Selection balcony.

It was a wide, open space, made to accomodate a great number of Prospects. The floor, like nearly everything else in Towerpoint, was cold, hard stone. Vegas stopped in the middle of the spacious floor. He turned towards Elijah. "Fight me."

"What? You're an Absolver, I don't stand a chance!"

"No, you don't. But get over here and fight me anyway."

Elijah tentatively stepped forward and weakly brought up a fighting stance. "That won't do, kid!" chastised Vegas. "You know what? Just get out of your stance." Elijah complied. Vegas spoke again. "Now, enter your stance," he commanded sternly. Elijah casually put up his hands in response. Vegas facepalmed. "Not like that. We haven't even started and I can already tell that I'll blow right through you. You can't just have confidence in a conversation, you need to show it in a fight. Once more!"

This time, Elijah fiercely came into his stance. It was a wide, bladed stance with open hands, the Kahlt Method. "That's better. You need to be imposing, especially as a Kahlt. You're supposed to be the tough guy out of all four styles. Now…" Vegas tightly brought up his arms, adopting a traditional stance with closed fists: Forsaken. "En garde."

Elijah decided to be brave and opened up the fight with a jumping front kick aimed for the chest. Vegas quickly swayed back, avoiding the kick before coming back up with a high roundhouse to punish. He caught his mark, right on the side of the head, causing Elijah to collapse to one knee. "On your feet, Prospect!" Vegas shouted, with the demeanor of a drill sergeant. It was quite loud, ringing through the stone halls of Towerpoint.

Elijah rose abruptly, throwing an uppercut by surprise on the way up. Vegas leaned to the side to avoid it in the nick of time and threw a hook in response. The counterattack was fast, but didn't connect. Instead, Vegas felt a broad pain in his side as Elijah ducked and stepped in for a body blow. Elijah went on to throw a second punch to the body, a hook of his own, but the more experienced fighter struck at the wrist with a trained parry. Elijah was briefly stunned, long enough for Vegas to wind up a heavy front kick and knock him on his rear. "Not fast enough!" he growled.

A crowd began to form, with a few Guides appearing on the upper balcony and several Prospects showing themselves in the mouth of the hallway. A few Absolvers came from a separate opening, some of them moving to stop the fight. They were stopped with a simple motion of Cyrus' hand. He had appeared seemingly from thin air, and knowing Vegas, he figured that the Absolver had something planned. The fight went on.

Elijah hesitated for a moment before he stood, but Vegas didn't give him any respite. He moved in with a flurry of linear punches and round kicks, with only a few being successfully blocked by the Prospect. Elijah snuck in a quick jab between the blows every now and then, but he knew it wouldn't be enough to stop the onslaught. "You can't hide in that shell forever, Elijah!"

Elijah decided to go for broke. He summoned all of his might and willpower, forming a glass-like, blue carapace around him: the signature ability of a Kahlt practitioner. He absorbed a heavy kick from his opponent, but didn't flinch and didn't feel the pain quite yet. He threw out a quick punch to disrupt any follow ups before throwing a huge punch of his own. Alas, it was parried by the man in black, who moved to counter with an axe kick. Elijah armored up again, but an orange energy enveloped Vegas' leg as he brought it down. The impact was huge, shattering Elijah's Absorption effect and knocking him to the ground.

"Do you give up, Prospect?"

Elijah looked up at the superior fighter. Every fiber of his being was screaming for him to stop, to just curl up into a ball and hope that he survived. He dug deep, searching for the power to continue, but he couldn't find it. He had the air knocked out of him and every shot the Absolver took left a lasting pain on his body. He opened his mouth to speak, to surrender, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sophiel in the crowd.

She wouldn't want me to give up.

Elijah punched the ground with sufficient force to leave a small crack in the stone. With a hellish battlecry, he pushed himself as hard as he could to stand up and put his fists up one more time. He pushed off his rear leg, beginning to close the distance and throw out some final resort with reckless abandon, anything to prove that his fire still burned. Anything to prove that it would never suffocate, never die out on its own. That it would refuse to give up.

Vegas caught Elijah's fist. He loosened up, dropping his other arm to his back and releasing Elijah's clenched hand. He put the parrying hand behind his back, meeting with his other hand and turning away from the Kahlt practitioner. "That'll do, Prospect." Vegas took two slow steps away from Elijah, who tiredly fell onto his knee. "When you were on the ground there, I could practically see the wheels turning in your head. Your body said to stop. But your soul? Your soul wasn't done yet. That's indomitable will, Elijah. The most valuable trait of an Absolver." He turned to face the Prospect, who in turn slowly forced himself off of his knee and onto both feet.

Vegas looked at the teenager face to face. He took his hands from behind his back, putting them together in front of himself. Elijah took a second to catch on, and mimicked the gesture. They both bent forward slightly and dipped their heads: the formal martial salute.

One clap gave birth to an uproarious applause from the crowd of Prospects, Absolvers, and even Guides.

"Go get some rest, Prospect. If you get selected in the morning, you're gonna need it."