The days flew by. Luther and Elise continued spending their nights together, and while the closeness between them grew, there hadn't been another incident like the one on their first day. Meanwhile, Marcus seemed to be scheming. Luther could feel his gaze on him and Elise at all times, a look filled with resentment and rage. Marcus watched them from the shadows, his expression a seething mix of hatred and determination.
By the fifth day of the week, the summoned recruits gathered at the training field as usual. The sun was just beginning to rise, and the crisp morning air filled the area. Professor Wolfram stood before them with his characteristic rigid posture, but today his expression was different—graver, even by his already strict standards.
"Listen carefully," Wolfram began, his voice cutting through the murmurs of the students. "I have an important message to share before we begin today's training."
The group fell silent, expectant. Wolfram retrieved a folded parchment from his robes and held it up. "I've received a letter from the Academy," he continued, his stern gaze sweeping over the recruits. "Due to the current situation in the capital, new rules have been implemented for the admission exam. Pay close attention, because this directly affects all of you."
Murmurs grew among the recruits, but Wolfram raised a hand to silence them. "From now on, passing the admission exam will not be enough. It will also be mandatory to have at least a level 3 latent mana core to be accepted into the Academy."
His words landed like a stone, and the weight of their meaning was immediately felt. Some recruits widened their eyes in disbelief, while others began whispering anxiously among themselves.
"Level 3?" a girl in the back asked, her voice shaky.
Wolfram let out a tired sigh. "Listen carefully, because I'll only explain this once. Mana cores are divided into four primary stages: Initial, Intermediate, Advanced, and Master. Each stage has three levels, and your progress determines how efficient and powerful your control over mana is."
He paused, ensuring that everyone was paying attention before continuing. "The latent core, which most of you currently possess, belongs to the initial stage. Within this stage, there are three levels:"
Level 1: The core has barely formed, and you can start to feel mana. Spells and control are weak.
Level 2: The core stabilizes, allowing for a more consistent mana flow. Simple spells can be used.
Level 3: The core is refined, enabling minor spellcasting and limited manipulation of elemental mana.
Wolfram gestured toward the group, pointing to a few individuals. "Currently, some of you haven't even formed a natural core. Others are stuck at level 1, or if you're lucky, level 2. But reaching level 3 will be beyond most of you. That's not an opinion—it's a fact."
A heavy silence fell over the recruits. They exchanged nervous glances, the weight of Wolfram's words sinking in. The professor continued, his tone as unyielding as ever. "Today and tomorrow are your last days to train before the admission test. If you don't reach level 3, no matter how well you do on the exam, you'll be rejected. For some of you," he added, his cold gaze sweeping over the group, "this is inevitable."
Wolfram turned on his heel and began pacing in front of the recruits. "That said, there are a few among you who might achieve it with enough effort."
The murmurs returned, this time tinged with a mixture of hope for some and despair for others. Luther glanced at Elise, who stood beside him, her expression focused as she processed the information. Meanwhile, Marcus stood at a distance, clenching his fists with a look of anger and determination, his eyes darting toward Luther and Elise.
Wolfram stopped pacing and crossed his arms. "We're wasting no more time. If you don't want to be discarded like the useless dead weight you are, prepare to work harder than ever."
With that, he pointed toward the training grounds. "To your stations! Training starts now!"
The recruits moved quickly to their positions, though the tension in the air was palpable. Wolfram's words had lit a fire under some, while others seemed weighed down by resignation.
Luther positioned himself next to Elise, who adjusted her ponytail and turned to him with a determined look. "What do you think about this?" she asked quietly.
Luther pressed his lips together, his eyes scanning the field. "I think we're fucked if we don't reach level 3. But I didn't come this far to fail now." Though his words were firm, the weight of the pressure sat heavily in his chest. He wasn't sure if he could manage it in time.
Elise nodded and gave his shoulder a light pat. "Then we won't fail. We're in this together."
Meanwhile, in his corner of the field, Marcus watched them with narrowed eyes, his jaw clenched tightly. His frustration was evident, and the murmurings of his lackeys around him seemed to fuel his simmering anger. His gaze lingered on Luther and Elise, brimming with a malicious intent that he was barely keeping contained.
Wolfram began issuing instructions for the day's exercises. "Today, you'll focus on stabilizing the mana flow in your circuits. It doesn't matter how fast you channel it—if it isn't stable, you won't reach level 3. Push too hard without control, and you might shatter your core. Trust me, you don't want to know what that feels like."
Several recruits swallowed nervously at the warning. Wolfram's tone was grim, but he pressed on without sympathy. "Those who are close to level 3 should focus on increasing their cores' capacity. If you don't know whether you're close…" He paused, letting the silence hang. "You probably aren't."
Luther closed his eyes and focused on the mana flowing through his body. Since forming his natural core, he could feel the mana's strength—particularly his dark and arcane energies—but controlling it felt like trying to tame a storm. The challenge was directing that raw power without losing himself in it.
To his left, a faint glow caught his attention. Elise stood with her hands slightly outstretched, a soft current of mana surrounding her. Despite her small stature, the intensity of her mana was impressive. Luther couldn't help but feel a flicker of pride watching her progress.
"Impressive, isn't it?" a sarcastic voice sneered from behind. Luther didn't need to turn to know it was Marcus. "You should worry about yourself instead of gawking at others. Then again, maybe you've already given up."
Luther took a deep breath, choosing to ignore him. He knew that responding would only feed Marcus's ego, but the bubbling anger within him was difficult to suppress.
The day was grueling. The recruits pushed themselves to their limits under Wolfram's watchful eye. For some, progress was evident; for others, exhaustion began to take its toll. Elise and Luther continued to excel, drawing both admiration and envy from their peers. Marcus, meanwhile, threw himself into the exercises with visible frustration, his lackeys spending more time mocking others than improving themselves.
As night fell, Wolfram dismissed the group with one final warning. "Tomorrow is your last chance. If you're not ready, start thinking about how you'll survive outside the Academy. And remember this: magic is not a gift—it's a responsibility. Fail to wield it properly, and it will destroy you."
The recruits trudged back to their rooms in silence, the weight of the day hanging heavily over them. Luther and Elise walked side by side, exhausted but resolute. Yet Luther couldn't help glancing over his shoulder. Marcus walked a few steps behind them, his eyes filled with resentment—and something darker that Luther couldn't quite place.