Korman had come here begrudgingly, not expecting much from this year's hopefuls. But after witnessing the boy's display, he started thinking otherwise. The sheer speed, precision, and the unmistakable surge of aura—it was far beyond what any of these kids should have been capable of.
"That was aura, wasn't it?" Henfor muttered, staring at the ten tokens in his palm. His voice held disbelief. "Fuck, my talent must be dogshit."
The other kids in front of them stood frozen, stunned into silence by what they had just seen. The atmosphere was heavy with shock, as none of them had anticipated such a display of power.
Fortunately, Farah was there to break the tension. "What are you doing!?" she barked at the other recruits. "If you think gawking can make you into a knight, then you've already failed! Show your fighting spirit!"
Her words snapped the kids out of their stupor, but Korman's thoughts lingered on the boy. He had been sure this day would be routine, another set of students who would take years to even grasp the basics. But now, things seemed different.
"Ten seconds," Henfor whispered, his eyes darting back to the entrance exam. Though he had been assigned the role of overseeing the process, he couldn't help but replay the boy's display in his mind. It was too remarkable to ignore. "Not even less than ten seconds… he'd done it so easily. Looked like a speed-type aura. I wonder how many attributes the kid has?"
In the world of knights, prowess was measured by two key factors: attributes and kills. The mainstream path of measurement was through 'attributes'—the more a knight had mastered, the stronger they were, simply because of the synergy they could harness from combining them.
"You must have been impressed, Korman… even that should've impressed you," Henfor continued, his attention divided between the boy and the remaining contestants.
Korman's face remained impassive beneath his helm. "No. It was disappointing and ugly. I've never seen an aura so uncertain and artificial in my life. That boy will either be the greatest fool in history or a godly genius who will take the world by storm."
"Your standards are way too high," Henfor muttered, focusing again on the ten students from whom the boy had stolen tokens. The contrast in their reactions, from disbelief to raw determination, added tension to the field.
Korman's gaze shifted, his green eyes narrowing behind his helm. "Looks like this year's crop isn't as bad as I remembered." His attention lingered on four individuals among the test takers, each one either having been victimized by the boy or was lucky to have been not targetted. "I confess. This is becoming more interesting than I imagined."
Korman's gaze swept over the remaining test-takers, watching as the initial chaos of the token battle settled. His eyes landed on four distinct figures among the group—each one standing out for different reasons. He knew immediately these four would be worth keeping an eye on.
The first was Lirael, a slender girl with short, fiery red hair and a confident stance. She moved with the precision of someone who had been trained for this all her life, her aura flickering around her like a burning ember. Unlike most of the others, Lirael hadn't lost her token. In fact, she still had hers clutched tightly in one hand and had already taken two more from other contestants. To be more accurate, she had barely lost them to the mysterious boy seconds ago if not for the said boy to have changed target mid-swing. Lirael had a fierce intensity about her, a natural predator's grace. Korman could see the sharpness in her gaze, the way she calculated her next move before acting. She was a fighter, through and through.
Farah noticed her too. "That girl's got fire. She's a natural."
Korman grunted in agreement. "She'll be dangerous if she's trained properly."
Then there was Thane, a broad-shouldered boy with dark skin and a quiet demeanor. He hadn't been the fastest or the strongest during the test, but there was a deliberate patience to his movements. He carried a large, two-handed sword strapped to his back, an unusual choice for someone his age. His style wasn't flashy, but it had a solid, unyielding quality to it, like an iron wall. He had only taken one token so far and he had done well to deter others from stealing from him. Moreover, he didn't seem to be in any rush. Korman recognized that kind of patience—it was the mark of someone who was used to playing the long game.
"He'll be one to watch in endurance training," Korman muttered.
Farah nodded. "He's got discipline, but we'll see if he has the drive."
The third was Suri, a short, wiry girl with dark, messy hair falling into her eyes. She moved like a shadow, almost unnoticed until she struck. While the others clashed openly, Suri had stayed on the outskirts, avoiding direct confrontations. Now, she stood with a small pile of tokens at her feet, having taken advantage of the chaos to snatch them from the distracted. Her presence was subtle, almost imperceptible, like she was deliberately hiding it. Korman could tell she was clever, using her size and agility to her advantage. But there was something more—an unpredictability that made her dangerous.
"She's slippery," Farah commented, eyes narrowing. "Not sure if that's a good thing."
"She'll survive," Korman replied. "But that doesn't mean she'll fight fair."
Finally, there was Varren, a tall, lean boy with a calm, almost serene expression. His swordsmanship wasted no superficial movements—cool and controlled, with a strange, tranquil energy that seemed at odds with the chaotic scene around him. He hadn't taken any tokens yet, but neither had anyone approached him. There was a stillness to Varren that kept the others at bay, like he was untouchable. His movements were slow, deliberate, like he was in no hurry. Korman sensed a depth to him, a quiet strength that would only show itself when necessary. But there was also something eerie about him, like he knew more than he let on.
"He's waiting," Korman said, watching the boy closely.
Farah raised an eyebrow. "Waiting for what?"
Korman didn't answer immediately, his eyes narrowing as Varren finally moved, stepping toward another contestant with a fluid grace. "We'll find out soon enough."
As the test neared its end, Korman could see the four standing out more clearly among the crowd. Each had their strengths, their unique approaches to the challenge. But it wasn't just their abilities that caught his attention—it was the potential for something more. Something dangerous, or perhaps, something extraordinary.
Korman's experience and connections had provided him with ample knowledge of the participants. Though silent and imposing, he was well aware of the backgrounds of the children before him. Lirael, the red-haired girl, was the rumored secret love child of a powerful mercenary known for his ruthlessness. Her precision in combat was no accident—she had been trained since birth to be a weapon. Thane, with his massive sword and unflinching demeanor, was a descendant of an ancient knightly order, the kind of bloodline that carried an innate understanding of aura and combat. Suri, of course, had inherited the martial skills from a lineage of masterful assassins, making her a natural for this type of test. And then there was Varren, the heir to a noble house, his cool aura a reflection of his disciplined upbringing, though Korman suspected there was much more lurking beneath the surface.
The question wasn't how Korman knew their names—it was how could he not know them? In the world of knights and power, connections and lineage were everything, and Korman had enough clout to recognize those who mattered.
This made the mysterious boy seconds ago the more mysterious.
The stalemate on the field finally broke when Suri sprinted for the gates, weaving between the others with ease. The contestants barely had time to react before she was gone, her tokens secured. It wasn't that they didn't try to stop her—Korman saw the brief struggle—but it was useless. Suri moved too quickly, too cleverly. She disappeared into the academy, leaving the others to continue their desperate brawl.
Farah, standing beside Korman, sighed. "First one in. The others are going to have to step it up."
Korman nodded but said nothing. His eyes were fixed on the field, watching as the remaining candidates fought for their tokens. There were 30 with tokens out of the original 47, meaning only six would pass this round of the exam. The Free Knights' Academy wasn't lenient with its selection. Only once a year did they recruit, and even then, only the best made it through.
The chaos on the field intensified. Lirael had taken out another competitor, her fiery swordsmanship blazing around her as she collected her tokens. Thane remained steady, fending off attacks and waiting for the right moment to strike. Varren was a mystery, still moving with that unnerving calm, seemingly unaffected by the battle raging around him.
"This year's batch…" Henfor muttered, a glint of interest in her eyes. "Think they'll survive the next part?"
Korman glanced at her, his face unreadable beneath his helm. "They'll survive. The question is how much of themselves they'll lose in the process."