As Mortis surveyed the transformed arena, his eyes widened in surprise. The once open space was now a labyrinth of stone walls, traps, and probably even some magic obstacles. This wasn't just a test of magical aptitude; it was a trial of cunning, resolve, and survival.
"Welcome to the second phase of the test," Magus Haze announced, his voice echoing through the arena. "This trial will test not only your magical and physical abilities but also your resourcefulness and determination. You must navigate through this labyrinth and reach the central tower. Be warned, the path is fraught with dangers, and only the cautious ones will survive."
Mortis's heart pounded with excitement and a dark sense of anticipation. This was his chance to prove himself, to show that he was willing to do whatever it took to achieve his goals. The prospect of navigating a labyrinth filled with unknown dangers didn't deter him; it fueled his ambition. After all, he was ready to use any means necessary to reach the tower and get a chance to become a magus, even if it meant manipulating, betraying, killing, and using other candidates like meat shields.
"Remember," Magus Haze continued, "there are no rules beyond reaching the tower. Use any means necessary. Those who fail will lose their only one chance in life. Begin!"
As the candidates dispersed into the labyrinth, Mortis moved with purpose. He wasn't here to make friends or allies; he was here to survive and become a magus. He quickly analyzed his surroundings, noting the various traps and magic barriers or something like that. His mind raced with strategies to overcome them. His newfound magical affinities with darkness, fire, and water awakened as a result of the previous test, but even though he had awakened them, he still couldn't properly use them. After all, he wasn't a magus, so the only thing he could do was to use them slightly with extremely minimal effect, but it was still sufficient for this level of difficulty.
He moved swiftly, using his darkness affinity to blend into the shadows and avoid detection by the magical constructs guarding the labyrinth. When he was confronted with traps, he used his fire affinity to destroy or disable it. His water affinity proved useful for cooling down areas affected by his fire abilities or creating a slippery surface to escape pursuit.
As Mortis navigated deeper into the labyrinth, he encountered other candidates struggling with the challenges. He slightly observed their efforts dispassionately, his mind calculating the best course of action. He knew that hesitation could mean failure, and he couldn't afford that. When he saw a candidate stuck in a trap, he didn't hesitate to use them as meat shields, drawing the attention of a guarding construct while he slipped past unnoticed.
At one point, Mortis came across a wounded candidate, a girl who had clearly underestimated the dangers of the labyrinth. She looked up at him with pleading eyes, her face pale and bloodied. "Please, help me," she begged, her voice weak and desperate.
Mortis crouched down beside her, a cold smile playing on his lips. "Of course," he said softly, reaching out to touch her. But instead of helping, he used his fire affinity to create a small speck of flame in his hand. "I'm sorry, but I can't afford any dead weight."
The girl's eyes widened in horror as she realized his intentions. Before she could scream, Mortis placed his hand over her mouth, the flame extinguishing her life swiftly and silently. He stood up, his expression unchanged. To him, this was just another step towards his ultimate goal. He believed that compassion and empathy were weaknesses that had no place in his conquest for power and immortality.
As he continued through the labyrinth, Mortis's actions became increasingly ruthless. He sabotaged traps to make them deadlier for those following him and showed no mercy to anyone who crossed his path. He was driven by a single-minded determination to succeed, and nothing else mattered.
He encountered a group of candidates struggling to bypass a particularly complex trap - a series of shifting stone blocks that threatened to crush anyone who miscalculated their timing. Mortis watched from the shadows, noting their mistakes and the moments when the blocks were most vulnerable to disruption.
An idea formed in his mind. He waited until one of the candidates was on the verge of crossing, their concentration wholly absorbed by the trap. With a swift motion, Mortis used his darkness magic to create a shadowy strand, which he directed towards a key pressure plate. The plate was triggered, the blocks shifting violently and trapping the unfortunate candidate. The others cried out in shock and horror, but Mortis was already moving, using the distraction to slip past unnoticed.
Further along the labyrinth, Mortis encountered another obstacle - a room filled with weird mirrors that created illusory clones of anyone who entered. These clones were aggressive and attacked without hesitation, their blows just as deadly as those from real opponents. Mortis studied the setup, recognizing that brute force would not suffice.
Instead, he used his water affinity to create a nearly transparent mist, slightly obscuring his form and confusing the mirror cloning function. The clones appeared, but their movements showed their confusion, unable to fully pinpoint Mortis's true location. He navigated the room with careful steps, avoiding unnecessary conflict and preserving his energy for the upcoming challenges.
As Mortis approached the center of the labyrinth, the obstacles became even more dangerous. He faced beasts, traps that tested his reflexes and intellect, and puzzles that required quick thinking and adaptability. He overcame each challenge with a cold, calculated efficiency, his mind always focused on the ultimate goal of this test - reaching the central tower and proving his worth as a magus candidate.
Finally, Mortis stood before the towering structure. He glanced back at the labyrinth, a trail of defeated foes, and bypassed traps behind him. His journey through the labyrinth had been ruthless, and his actions had left a wake of casualties. But he felt no remorse; each decision was a step towards his future, and in his eyes, the purpose justified the means.
As Mortis ascended the steps of the tower, he was greeted by the sight of other successful candidates, their expressions a mix of relief and determination. He recognized a few faces, those who had managed to survive despite the dangers. They eyed him warily, aware of some of his deeds and his ever-growing reputation as someone who would stop at nothing.
Magus Haze awaited them at the top of the tower, his stern gaze appraising each candidate. "Congratulations to those who have made it this far without dying," he said. "You have demonstrated not only your talent but also your resolve, resourcefulness, adaptability, and especially your abilities. These qualities are essential for those who want to become true magi."
Mortis felt a dark satisfaction at the words. He had proven his worth, showing that he was willing to embrace any means necessary to succeed. As he looked out over the arena, he felt a surge of anticipation for what lay ahead. This was just the beginning, a first step on his path to power and immortality.
The remaining candidates were given a brief rest before the next and last phase of the test. Mortis used the time to reflect on his journey, his mind already strategizing for the challenges to come. He knew that the road ahead would be fraught with even greater dangers and that he would need to be even more ruthless and cunning to survive.
As the sun set over the North Capital, casting long shadows across the arena, Mortis felt a sense of purpose like never before. He was ready to embrace the darkness within him, to use it as a tool to carve his path to greatness. In this world of magic and strange powers, he would rise above all others, no matter the cost, and reach his goal.
Mortis leaned against a stone pillar, watching the other candidates converse and form fragile alliances. He couldn't help but feel disdain for their naivety. They still clung to notions of camaraderie and mutual support, but Mortis knew better. In the end, only the strongest and most ruthless would survive.
As night fell, the candidates were provided with simple sleeping arrangements. Mortis lay on his bedroll, staring at the ceiling, his mind racing with plans and strategies. He replayed the events of the day, analyzing his actions and the responses of those around him. Every detail was a piece of the puzzle, and Mortis was determined to solve it.
He recalled the faces of those he had outmaneuvered and eliminated. Their fear and desperation had been clear, but Mortis felt nothing for them. They were simply obstacles in his path, and he had no qualms about removing them. He believed that the pursuit of power required sacrifice, and if others had to suffer for his success, so be it.
Mortis closed his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, and new opportunities to demonstrate his resolve. He was ready to face whatever lay ahead, to crush anyone who stood in his way. In this world, there was no room for weakness or sentimentality. Only the strong would prevail, and Mortis was determined to be the strongest of them all.