[663] Insufficient Five Senses (2)
"Tch, stubborn as ever."
Lupist grumbled from his seat at the table, and Jane laughed.
"Why not try making an offer now? He looked pretty disappointed."
When they found out Shirone had been taken by the Ivory Tower, Lupist had been the one who cursed the kingdom loudest.
"If he were going to accept an offer, he would've done it already."
The image of him tearing up the acceptance certificate he'd received when the five great magic academies had gathered at the Association still lingered.
"It's better this way. Just don't let another country take him."
That was the only reason Lupist hadn't acted.
Even after evaluations 28 and 29 finished, Shirone didn't call the next participant.
Rian and Aria were equally stunned, still caught up in the magic demonstrations they had just witnessed.
"This is…."
Rian couldn't form the words, but Shirone nodded as if he understood.
"That was the magic of a first-rank grand mage."
That the building had shaken with the force yet left no trace showed a combination of devastating power and exquisite control.
'And Jane's magic was incredible, too.'
Because this was the specialty evaluation, some magics had to be used directly before the judges, and Shirone could clearly see what level Jane's mind magic had reached.
Aria spoke up. "Let's move on for now. There are still fifty-two people left."
Shaken back to his senses, Shirone turned toward the door. "Next person, please come in."
A moment later the door opened and a bald man as broad as Rian entered.
"Hello! Examinee number 59, Maghart!"
He was forty-three, had trained in martial arts for twenty years, and now made his living as a mercenary under the Brawling Guild. He hadn't particularly stood out in the first trial, but his solid fundamentals and brute strength earned Shirone's pass.
"All right. I hope you get good results. Show us your specialty."
Maghart set down a massive backpack and pulled out sturdy bricks. Rather than setting supports for an efficient transfer of shock, he had stacked fifteen bricks one atop another in a neat tower.
'A breaking demonstration, then.'
Looking down arrogantly at the column of bricks up to his waist, Maghart nodded and said, "From Tiger Fist—the fiercest technique, Fierce Tiger Headbutt. I'll break these bricks in one go."
Breaking things—every boy's dream.
Temporarily setting aside his duty as a judge, Shirone's eyes brightened and he nodded. "Fuuuu!"
Maghart took a horse-riding stance, swung his hands, and—so quiet there wasn't even a breath to hear—pushed his jaw forward and let out a shout.
"Horatcha!"
He vaulted up and, as if toppling forward, slammed his forehead into the brick tower.
Bricks cracked one after another; his face drove through them and hit the floor.
"Wow! They all broke!"
Shirone rose and applauded Maghart, dust-covered and bowing on the ground. "Amazing! Are you okay? Your head must hurt."
There was no answer.
"Hey… Maghart?"
When he didn't move, forehead pressed to the ground, Shirone's voice rose with worry. "Maghart, can you hear me?"
Then Maghart's waist gave out and his body collapsed; his limbs began twitching in spasms.
"This is bad! He's lost consciousness!"
Aria jumped up and shouted to the doorway. "Master! Master! We have an emergency patient!"
Members of the Silvering Guild rushed into the yard, hoisted Maghart up, and ran him outside.
The room cleared in an instant, but Shirone still stared blankly as they carried him away. "…What happened? How did that happen?"
Rian clicked his tongue. "He panicked. His body was stiffer than usual, so his force dispersed. The moment he did the headbutt he passed out."
Shirone slid back into his seat and said casually, "Next person, please come in."
It had been a fluke, but most applicants who'd passed the first trial showed respectable specialties.
'Hmm, tricky. I'll mark that as pending.'
With no clear standard, judging pass or fail prematurely would be a mistake.
Number 73 was Ackman, master of the Silvering Guild, who demonstrated his Fire Snake magic without holding back.
'That magic is definitely handy.'
It relied considerably on magic devices—the Robe of Flame and the Cage of Fire—but since this was a practical demonstration, equipment could count as an advantage.
'I'm wearing Armand too.'
After the three of them confirmed the coiled landing of the fire serpent and applauded, Ackman bowed with an embarrassed expression.
He'd already lost in the duel, so demonstrating felt awkward, but from Shirone's perspective someone of Ackman's caliber was rare. 'Let's tentatively mark him as pass.'
Ackman left and the baton was taken by Yordic, master of the War Chariot Guild. Unlike in the first trial, he'd equipped a magic device—large gloves with crystal orbs embedded in the palms, like Armand.
"Number 74, Yordic."
He still carried that attitude of never fully bowing to anyone, even as an examinee.
"All right. Show us your specialty."
Yordic introduced his gear first. "These are Ice Gloves. Combined with my frost magic, they let me do a lot. For example…."
He held out his palm; the crystal orb glowed blue and instantly frosted the air around it. "I can absorb energy."
Clenching his fist, the ice rippled like water and formed into a whip studded with sharp barbs. "With this I can sever the necks of anyone who attacks me."
He swung, and the ice whip whooshed past Shirone's face and snapped back.
'Ah—so the shape doesn't have to be fixed.'
Freezing magic excels at sculpting but lacks fluidity. With the Ice Gloves, however, it can absorb energy in real time, allowing even rigid ice to be wielded like a whip.
"Well… I'll stop here. It's hard to show the real killing techniques."
Yordic curled a cold smile, expecting a reaction, but Shirone's gaze had already returned to the paperwork. "Good work. You'll be notified individually about the result."
Standing there a little awkward, Yordic turned and left when Aria called the next person. 'Tch, these kids these days.'
Number 75 was Iviang, master of the Bloodrose Guild. Setting skill aside for the moment, her outfit clearly aimed to draw attention.
"Hello, examinee number 75, Iviang."
She pinched the hem of her skirt and spread it, stepped a leg back, and gave a prim little bow.
"Yes, hello. You look lovely today."
"Oh my, really? How strange—I just came as I always do. Hohoho!"
Iviang laughed exaggeratedly and her chest bobbed up and down, pulling Shirone back to his usual composure.
"All right, shall we begin?"
Having secured the first impression she wanted, she lost the smile and showed her specialty. "Magnetic Control."
Her specialty was electric magic, specifically magnetism—mastery over metal.
She tossed a black iron sphere called the Eye of the Golden Dragon into the air. It dissolved into a swirl of iron dust, forming a magnetic field around her.
"Ho."
Shirone made an intrigued face at the stream of iron like a milky way, and buoyed by the response she shaped the iron dust into a rose and sent it toward him.
The floating rose was black but so finely formed it could be mistaken for the real thing. When Shirone reached for it, it dissolved into smoke and returned to Iviang.
"Nice."
"My specialty is shaping, but don't underestimate the power. When I focus, I can resist two hundred kilograms."
The strength to manipulate dozens of longswords at once.
'This magic would be useful. I'll put Iviang on the passing line.'
Lupist, Jane, Ackman, Yordic, Iviang—if the early lineup stayed like this, the backbone would be set.
The number jumped to 121, and it was Etella's turn. Like Maghart, she'd prepared a breaking demonstration.
'True—few things are more impactful than that.'
A practitioner reputedly able to face Satan in heaven, she still brought props out of respect for the judges.
"I will demonstrate the secret art of Yin–Yang Wave Fist."
"All right. Please do your best."
Shirone inclined his head politely to the school instructor; Rian, still haunted by the chill of the first trial, watched carefully.
Etella pulled from her bag an iron ball the size of a human head. She dropped it from eye level; it thudded into the floor.
"You're going to…break iron?"
Aria looked incredulous as Etella squared her stance and made a fist.
"Fuuuu."
After a deep breath, Etella's fist struck the iron ball at incredible speed.
Tadadadadadung!
A succession of impacts no one believed a human fist could produce rang out, accompanied by waves that roiled within the iron.
'Thunder Palm!'
Etella opened her palm and drove the final wave through.
The ball, which had been trembling and grinding, shattered as if an explosion had gone off.
"Wooooah!"
Shirone couldn't help exclaiming at such a spectacular feat.
That a human body had achieved what most magics couldn't was unbelievable.
Etella crouched to clear the fragments, then straightened and offered a polite bow. "Thank you. I look forward to your judgment."
She left with an innocent smile, and Shirone turned to Rian. "So? Is she a pass?"
"Eh? Oh, of course."
There was no room for objection; Rian's earlier hesitation had been his own mindset. During his knightly training, only winning had mattered, but seeing how technically advanced the applicants had become left a weight on his chest.
Whether Rian felt that or not, Shirone called the next entrant. "Number 147, come in."
After he called the number he glanced at the paperwork and realized. 'Ah—so it's him.'
Wig of the Gale.
He entered grinning, twin swords strapped across his left shoulder in an eleven-character configuration.
"Hello. I'm number 147. Some call me Wig of the Gale."
"Hmm."
Rian folded his arms and set his jaw.
Wig had been sending taunts since the first trial.
"All right, show us your specialty. Twin-swordsmanship, I suppose?"
"Weapons don't really matter. I just fight with whatever I can get my hands on. What really matters is…."
Wig drew both swords over his shoulder and squinted one eye at Rian. "Who you can beat, don't you think?"
Rian's expression didn't change as he asked, "So…who can you beat?"
As if he expected no retreat, Wig offered what he'd been waiting for. "You. I challenge you to a real-sword duel, Knight of Macha."