Within the imposing stone walls of the Academy, Carl watched a crowd of aspiring mages and warriors lining up to the right. "That will be the stage for our exam," Damian announced with a glint of excitement in his eyes, his unwavering smile framing his youthful face. Carl, in contrast to his friend's excitement, remained calm and measured, his tranquil voice cutting through the air with a direct question: "Do you know how this exam is conducted?"
Damian turned to Carl, his smile widening even more, radiating an almost palpable confidence, as if he had eagerly awaited this question. "Friend, the process is simpler than it seems. Look at the queues forming there," he said, gesturing towards the crowd. "Due to the exceptional number of candidates this year, they organized several lines, but that's secondary. The important thing is that each of us will have to touch the artifact to be evaluated." Carl nodded his head, absorbing every detail, his analytical gaze sweeping the scene before them.
"Is this artifact, by any chance, a sphere or something of the sort?" inquired Carl, his mind already weaving hypotheses. Damian, noticing Carl's sharpened curiosity, replied with a hint of pride in his voice: "Exactly, it's a sphere that reveals the existence and nature of each one's core, as well as indicating elemental affinities." Carl, internally, couldn't help but let out an ironic sigh, almost laughing to himself at the explanation that seemed straight out of a classic tale of magic and mystery.
Damian, oblivious to Carl's internal irony, continued with his explanation, his voice reverberating with genuine enthusiasm. "The practical part is quite simple. You just need to hand your identification card to the examiner. After the test with the sphere, all relevant data, including the type of core and elemental affinities, will be recorded on it." Carl nodded in understanding, a slight smile outlining his lips. Without further ado, he made a discreet gesture for them to proceed, walking side by side towards the queue that stretched out before them, a sea of aspiring mages and warriors awaiting their fate.
As they approached, Damian, with an expression of casual curiosity, turned to Carl. "You know, Carl, you haven't told me about your family. What's your last name?" The question was innocent, but laden with social implications in that world. Carl, with a light sigh, responded in a neutral but firm tone: "I don't have a last name. I'm a commoner." His eyes looked at Damian keeping his head in the same direction, only his eyes met him, his black eyes flickered briefly as he said this. In that society, only the nobles had the privilege of last names, a clear class distinction that Carl knew very well because of the memories of the old Carl.
Realizing the potential tension in his question, Damian hastened to clarify, gesturing conciliatorily. "Ah, don't get me wrong, Carl! I don't have that kind of prejudice. My last name is Hartford. My family, the Viscounts of Hartford, is known for their progressive positions and open-mindedness." His voice sounded sincere, and his eyes reflected a mix of empathy and respect. Carl, observing the genuineness in Damian, thought, "Back on Earth he would be the typical rich kid who has poor friends and supports humanitarian actions on the internet." Carl shook his head, agreeing with this thought.
A sudden stir in the crowd captured Carl's attention, diverting him from his introspective thoughts. The growing murmur turned into a cacophony of excited voices and admiring whispers. "So she has arrived," commented Damian, his usual smile replaced by a glimpse of seriousness. Carl, curious about the sudden change of mood of his, in quotation marks, new friend, turned to observe the source of the commotion, his inquisitive gaze sweeping the crowd.
"She who?" Carl asked, his expression slightly furrowed in discomfort with Damian's ambiguity. "Sarah Johnson," Damian promptly replied, his eyes following the figure that aroused such admiration. "But who is Sarah Johnson, and why does her arrival cause such a stir?" Carl questioned, his genuine curiosity masked by a neutral tone, his arms crossed in a posture of reserved contemplation.
"Sarah Johnson is a true prodigy, coming from the illustrious Johnson family of warriors. Her prowess is such that she awakened her core at twelve years, a remarkably rare and impressive feat," explained Damian, his voice tinged with respect. He paused, taking a deep breath before adding, "And, to answer the next question you're going to ask, even those who have already awakened their cores, like Sarah, must undergo the exam. It's a standard procedure to ensure that all information is correctly recorded on their identification cards." Damian looked at Carl, whose expression reflected a mix of interest and careful assessment of the situation.
Carl finally saw the person who was the center of this commotion. Under the attentive gazes of the crowd, Sarah Johnson walked with an imposing posture, emanating an aura of confidence and fearlessness. Her stature was notable, only slightly shorter than Carl, with a physical constitution that gracefully balanced robustness and femininity. Her long wavy brown hair fell to her waist, framing a face of serious and determined expression. She wore an outfit that blended elegance and functionality, combining refined pieces with practical leather elements for combat. The sword hanging at her waist was a notable addition, symbolizing her skill and readiness. Carl watched, a memory from his past life surfacing in his mind: "She could easily be the star of an action movie," he thought, admiring the fusion of strength and style she exhibited.
But Carl was already a man then this brief moment of observation was interrupted when he snapped his fingers in front of Damian's face, bringing him back to reality. "Wake up, if you keep this up you'll start drooling, and I'm not friends with people who can't hold their own saliva," joked Carl, a light smile of complicity on his lips. Damian, surprised and a bit embarrassed, blushed at Carl's perceptive observation. He quickly regained his composure, a shy smile replacing the previous expression of admiration. "Yeah, you're right," admitted Damian, chuckling softly. "But it's hard not to be impressed. Sarah Johnson is a legend in the making."