long. The air in the Prismadium is thick, a physical pressure compounded by the roar of a thousand spectators and the low, electric hum of hovering media drones. You stand among a sea of new students on the obsidian floor, the vast arena shifting as holographic projectors cycle through terrain options—a flicker of a cityscape, a flash of a glacial field. A Proctor's voice, magically amplified and utterly devoid of emotion, echoes from above. "The Orientation Trial will now commence. The objecti...