Ryn shoved his hands into his pockets, falling into a leisurely stride beside his surprisingly smart yet still crazy noble companion.
They made their way down the wide, marble-paved avenue that connected the academic sector to the training grounds.
The campus was breathtaking.
Towering spires of white stone and blue glass pierced the clouds, connected by shimmering bridges of solid light. Arcana streams flowed like rivers through the air, feeding the glowing trees that lined the path with vibrant, pulsating energy.
Asher slowed his pace slightly, looking around with a gaze full of longing and determination.
"This is it..." he muttered, watching the crystalline leaves of trees drift in the wind. "This is where we will be studying soon..."
"Only if we pass the exam," Ryn added.
Asher shot him a glare, but he didn't deny it. Instead, he took a deep breath and lowered his voice.
"We will. So, listen closely," Asher began, his tone shifting into a lecture. "The Practical Evaluation isn't like the written test. It measures raw application. Usually, they put us against Arcana-Puppets or monsters. They aren't looking for flashy moves; they want to see reaction speed, casting stability under pressure, and combat sense."
Ryn nodded along, half-listening.
"Don't hold back too much," Asher advised seriously. "If you aim for average here, you might accidentally fail. The puppets don't pull their punches."
As he spoke, the path opened up into a vast plaza.
Looming ahead of them was their destination — a colossal, circular building that looked like an ancient colosseum retrofitted with high-tech shielding arrays.
"By the way," Asher said, his voice cutting through the ambient noise of the approaching crowd. "I marked down 'Combat Division' for my application, since, you know, I'm good with spears. I then chose the Vanguard Track."
He glanced at Ryn, eyeing the boy's slender frame and lack of visible weapons.
"What did you pick? Assassin? Or maybe Scout, given your... mobility?"
Ryn shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, stifling a yawn.
"...Support."
Asher tripped over his own feet. He stumbled, catching himself just before face-planting onto the marble pavement. He whipped his head around, staring at Ryn with wide eyes.
"Excuse me? Support?"
"Yeah," Ryn replied nonchalantly. "Rescue-related one, to be specific. I can teleport, remember? I just warp in, grab the injured, warp out. No fighting, no sweating, no getting hit by giant monsters. It's the perfect job."
Asher opened his mouth, closed it, and then rubbed his temples.
"You... You have a spatial ability, one of the rarest, most lethal affinities in history, and you want to use it to be an ambulance?"
"It's honest work," Ryn shrugged. "And it pays well."
Asher looked like he wanted to scream, but they had arrived.
The Colosseum was titanic.
The walls were lined with thousands of empty seats, save for the VIP balcony overlooking the arena. There, a handful of stern-faced Academy staff and a few uniformed seniors sat, looking down at the incoming applicants with expressions ranging from boredom to critical assessment.
"Let's sit there," Asher pointed to a section in the lower stands designated for candidates.
They moved through the massive archway and found two empty seats near the aisle. Ryn collapsed into his chair with a sigh of relief, immediately slouching to get comfortable. Asher, meanwhile, sat on the edge of his seat, his posture rigid, eyes scanning the environment like a soldier in enemy territory.
"That's the faculty box," Asher whispered, nodding toward the balcony. "I think I see Professor Vance up there. And... is that a senior from the Student Council?"
Ryn glanced up, saw a few blurry figures, and shrugged. "Don't know. Don't care."
As the last of the five thousand candidates filed in and took their seats, the murmurs in the vast arena grew into a dull roar.
HUMMM.
Suddenly, a deep, vibrating sound silenced the crowd.
In the dead center of the sandy arena floor, the air distorted. A circular metallic platform hovered down from the open ceiling, descending slowly until it floated just a few feet above the ground.
Standing on it was a woman who looked less like a teacher and more like a weapon of war.
She wore a sleeveless combat uniform that showed off arms corded with lean, dangerous muscle. A jagged scar ran from her jaw down to her neck, and her eyes burned with an intense, predatory orange light.
She didn't use a microphone. She didn't need one.
"Candidates, assemble!"
Her voice, amplified by raw Arcana, hit them like a physical shockwave, rattling the bones of everyone in the stands.
"Welcome to the Crucible," she announced, crossing her arms. "I am Shaylo. Head of the Combat Department."
She paced around the edge of the hovering platform, glaring up at the rows of students.
"I know you all just listened to the Vice Principal drone on about rules and regulations for an hour. I hate that boring stuff, so I'll keep this short."
She smirked, a sharp, feral expression.
"As you might have heard from the old man, the Practical Evaluation is divided into three parts."
She held up one finger.
"First: Aptitude Assessment. We will measure your Core, Rank, Affinity, and so on."
She held up a second finger.
"Second: Combat Showcase. You will show us your capabilities in battle. Whether you are a healer, a channeler, or a swordsman, you need to know how to survive a fight. We will throw you into the grinder, and we will see who breaks."
She held up a third finger.
"And finally, Third: Division Trials."
"You will undergo specific, specialized scenarios based on the Division you applied for. If you picked Support, you will save lives. If you picked Combat, you will take them."
Shaylo lowered her hand, her gaze sweeping over the silent crowd.
"The weak will be filtered out in Part One. The cowards will run in Part Two. And the incompetent will fail in Part Three."
She stomped her boot on the platform.
"Now, let's begin."