Information regarding the format of the Physical Evaluation—and the identities of assigned sparring partners—was delivered simultaneously to every participant scheduled to fight that day.
To ensure no misunderstandings or excuses, the senior students of Regia Nevaris went a step further. They copied the complete list of matches and posted it on the massive notice board outside the battleground complex. Anyone passing by could clearly see when and where they were expected to fight.
There would be no room for ignorance.
Among the examinees, reactions varied sharply.
Most commoners glanced at their assigned matches with little interest. They knew better than to dwell on names or bloodlines. Their focus lay entirely on surviving the bout and proving they belonged in the Academy.
The nobles, however, reacted very differently.
When paired against someone from an influential family with a powerful bloodline, their expressions darkened. Some concealed their anxiety behind forced calm, while others openly scowled at their misfortune.
Conversely, when matched against someone deemed weaker, a sense of arrogance inevitably followed. Easy victory—or so they believed.
What many of them understood, however, was that the Academy would not intervene.
The sparring results were final.
Regia Nevaris prided itself on impartiality, and the instructors adhered strictly to fairness. But the world outside the Academy was far less forgiving.
Defeating a scion of a stronger family—even in a sanctioned spar—could invite retaliation. Reputations mattered. Pride mattered. Powerful families did not tolerate humiliation lightly, and weaker houses that embarrassed them often paid the price later.
With these thoughts weighing heavily on their minds, the students made their way toward the Academy's battlegrounds.
The sight that greeted them was nothing short of awe-inspiring.
Four colossal stages dominated the open arena, each measuring nearly a thousand yards in diameter. The stages were separated by wide gaps of two hundred yards, ensuring no interference between matches. Together, they formed a circular formation, with tiered seating surrounding each platform.
Two elevated VIP sections overlooked the entire arena.
Despite the scale, only senior academy students occupied the seats. They had gathered in large numbers, eager to observe the strength of the incoming generation—those who would soon become their juniors, rivals, or allies.
Five instructors stood at the center of the grounds, their presence commanding silence the moment the final examinees arrived.
One of them stepped forward.
"I welcome every candidate present for the Entrance Examination," she announced calmly. "I am Yasura Megumi, Vice Headmaster of Regia Nevaris. I will be overseeing the Physical Evaluations today."
Her voice carried effortlessly across the arena.
She gestured toward the four massive stages.
"These battles will take place on the stages before you. Though classified as sparring matches, you are permitted to fight seriously. You may go all out."
A brief pause followed.
"We have some of the finest healers present. Any injuries sustained will be treated immediately."
As if on cue, two healers stepped forward, their robes adorned with complex restorative sigils.
"Without further delay," Yasura Megumi continued, "we shall begin."
In the next instant, she vanished—reappearing seamlessly in one of the VIP seats overlooking the arena.
One of the remaining instructors, a mature woman with sharp eyes, stepped forward and activated her information orb.
"The following participants will enter Stage One," she announced.
"Amamiya Rika."
"And Mizuno Akari."
Two figures stepped forward.
Amamiya Rika was a young man with a solid, muscular build. His stance was aggressive even before the match began, confidence radiating from his posture.
Mizuno Akari, by contrast, appeared calm and composed. Lean and poised, she carried herself with measured restraint.
"As stated earlier," the instructor said, "all mana will be drained prior to the match. You may use spells only if you recover sufficient mana during combat."
She glanced between them.
"The battle will conclude when one of you is unable to continue, is forced out of the arena, or forfeits."
Then, one final question.
"Will you be using weapons or artifacts?"
"A spear," Akari answered immediately.
"An axe," Rika replied.
"Present them."
Both complied. The instructor inspected each weapon carefully before nodding.
"Very well."
She stepped back.
"Three…
Two…
One…"
"Start!"
The moment the signal was given, Rika charged forward.
A wide grin spread across his face as he swung his axe with full force, aiming to either shatter Akari's spear or knock it from her grasp. His intent was clear—end the match in a few overwhelming exchanges.
Akari merely shook her head.
With swift, precise movement, she intercepted the strike, catching the axe's handle with her spear and redirecting its momentum downward.
BOOM!
The axe embedded itself deep into the arena floor.
Rika's eyes widened.
Before he could recover, Akari adjusted her grip and thrust her spear toward his chest, the strike aimed to deal decisive damage.
SWISH!
The spear sliced through the air as Rika crouched instinctively, yanking his axe free with brute strength and attempting to slash at her legs.
Akari leapt backward, creating distance.
She understood the matchup perfectly.
Close-quarters combat favored Rika's strength. At range, the advantage was hers.
Gripping her spear with one hand, Akari shifted into a throwing stance. The mana she had been subtly gathering surged through her arm as she hurled the weapon forward.
CLANG!
Rika knocked the spear aside with his axe, his expression triumphant. Channeling the recovered mana into his legs, he lunged forward, intending to overpower her while she was disarmed.
GRUNT!
Before he could close the distance, pain exploded across his shoulder.
The spear—now airborne once more—had curved back toward Akari, slashing into him from the side.
Realization struck too late.
She had never lost control of her weapon.
Cursing his carelessness, Rika barely had time to react before Akari closed the gap, launching a relentless assault. Spear strikes flowed seamlessly into kicks and palm strikes, forcing him to defend continuously.
Blood loss mounted.
His movements slowed.
Each exchange drained more of his remaining strength.
ACK!
Another spear strike broke through his guard.
Akari followed immediately with a powerful kick to his chest.
THUD!
Rika's body flew backward, crashing heavily onto the arena floor.
He didn't rise again.
"The match is over," the instructor announced.
"Winner: Mizuno Akari."
Cheers erupted from the senior students in the stands, impressed by the clean execution and tactical dominance displayed in the bout.
The Physical Evaluation had begun—and it was already clear that this year's entrance exam would be anything but ordinary.