As the daughter of the Mistress of the Magic Tower, Emily had grown up breathing mana. She saw things others missed.
When Alex had cast that spell, the other students saw a small ball. Emily saw a singularity.
That wasn't just a mana orb, she thought, her eyes narrowing as she watched Alex slump into his seat. He compressed the mana density by a factor of ten. Instantly.
To do that required calculation speed that rivaled a computer. If he had enough mana to actually launch it, that "tiny orb" would have blown the target dummy into dust.
Why does he have the calculation power of an Archmage but the mana pool of a commoner?
For the first time all year, Emily's cold indifference cracked. She was interested.
Alex, completely unaware that he had just triggered a flag with one of the main heroines, sat down next to Hanks.
"Dude," Hanks whispered, trying to suppress a grin. "That was hilarious. 'On Hold'? You broke the grading system!"
"Just watch the test," Alex groaned, sinking low in his chair.
"Next," Cassandra called out, her voice returning to its usual boredom. "Emily Frost."
The atmosphere in the arena shifted instantly.
The snickering stopped. The whispers vanished. All eyes snapped to the girl rising from her seat.
Emily walked down the stairs with the grace of a swan. Her uniform was pristine, her silver hair shimmering in the sun. She didn't look at anyone. She didn't need to. Her presence alone commanded the room.
Alex perked up, his embarrassment momentarily forgotten.
Oh, he thought, his inner otaku reawakening. I can finally see her in action. The Ice Queen herself.
While the boys looked on with adoration, not everyone was a fan.
A few rows down, Alicia Raven crossed her arms, her ample chest heaving with annoyance. She popped her gum loudly.
"Tch," the blonde gyaru muttered, glaring at Emily's back. "Show-off bitch. Let's see if she's all that."
****
The card Cassandra pulled for Emily was 'Manipulation'.
"When you are ready..."
Before Cassandra could even finish the sentence, Emily moved.
She didn't chant. She didn't wave a wand. She simply crossed her arms and snapped her fingers.
Crack.
The earth beneath the platform rumbled in obedience.
Soil and stone rose into the air, swirling like liquid. There was no hesitation, no wasted movement. The mana flow was surgically precise, blending perfectly with the physical elements.
Clatter.
In seconds, the soil coalesced into a statue. It was a perfect, life-sized replica of Emily herself—down to the bored expression on its face.
It stood there, an earthen doppelgänger, radiating a strange sense of arrogance, as if the statue itself knew it was a work of art.
"Wow..." Hanks whispered, leaning away from the platform. "That is terrifying. Imagine getting on her bad side. She'd just turn the ground under your feet into a prison. We dodged a bullet, man."
Alex stared at the display, analyzing it with his enhanced stats.
It's not just mana control, he realized. It's the intent.
Emily's magic was sharp, cold, and absolute. It mirrored her personality. Her calculation speed was off the charts, but her magic had a flaw—it was too rigid. It followed her ego. If she ever lost control of her emotions, that sharpness would turn brittle and shatter.
'Well, it's weird for the dead-last student to be critiquing a prodigy,' Alex mused. 'But I know these characters better than they know themselves. Just yesterday, they were pixels on my screen. I pressed the keys, they moved. I have the right to judge.'
"Rank A," Cassandra announced, sounding almost bored by the perfection.
Emily didn't smile. She just nodded as if an 'A' was the bare minimum requirement for existing, and walked back to her seat.
"Rank C." "Rank C."
The test dragged on until...
"Next, Ren."
The name acted like a charm spell. Half the girls in the class sat up straighter, their eyes twinkling.
'Tch,' Alex grumbled internally. 'The weed has arrived.'
Cassandra didn't use his surname because he didn't have one. To the world, he was just Ren, the commoner scholarship student.
Alex watched him walk down, feeling a petty surge of jealousy. 'I hope he trips. I hope he sneezes mid-cast. Embarrass yourself, hero.'
But plot armor was a powerful thing.
Ren's test was 'Construct'.
He raised his hand. His mana wasn't flashy or sharp like Emily's. It was solid. Stable. He built a complex geometric barrier that hummed with efficient power.
"Rank A."
It was textbook perfection. If a magic manual became a human, it would be Ren.
'Boring,' Alex critiqued. 'It's flat. No unique color. Just raw, efficient protagonist energy.'
Still, there was no denying the guy was a natural.
"Don't look so down, bro," Hanks said, patting Alex's back a little too hard. "It's not like this is your first time failing, is it?"
Alex frowned. "Are you consoling me or roasting me?"
"What are you talking about?" Hanks gasped dramatically, hand on his chest. "I am your rock! Your emotional support!"
At that moment, Cassandra snapped her fingers.
"That concludes today's test. Grades will be posted on the bulletin board tomorrow."
A collective groan of relief filled the air.
"And student Alex."
"Yes."
Alex stood up, keeping his face neutral. The three professors were still eyeing him like he was a puzzle piece that didn't fit.
"You will stay behind. Everyone else is dismissed."
The class filed out, buzzing with gossip. Every single student glanced at Alex on their way out. Some with pity, most with amusement.
Hanks gave him a thumbs-up and mouthed, 'Meet me at the gate,' before disappearing into the crowd.
Finally, the training ground was empty, save for Alex and the three judges.
Cassandra walked down from the podium, her heels clicking on the stone. She stopped in front of him, crossing her arms.
"Alex," she said, her voice dropping the bored act. "You have to take a retest."
Alex nodded silently. He expected this. They couldn't grade a spell that vanished into thin air, no matter how good the startup was.
"In which field are you most confident?" she asked.
"I handle them all at the same level," Alex lied smoothly.
Technically true, he thought. My level for all of them is practically zero.