The second test was about to start.
Out of the hundreds who had applied, only 437 applicants had passed the first test.
Now, in the open field, 436 of them stood in place as they waited for the test to start.
Seven was still not in sight.
But no one seemed to care.
It wasn't as if they would delay the test for a single person. The process would continue, with or without him.
This test was a simple one: a categorization of Mages and Swordsmen.
Mages were guided to the left.
Swordsmen to the right.
Of them, 216 were classified as Mages.
But even among Mages, there were distinctions.
➭ Mages. Those who could cast offensive spells, whether elemental, arcane, or something else entirely.
➭ Buffer Mages. Those who specialized in support magic, such as healing, strengthening, and defensive spells.
For the Mages, a massive orb was placed at the center of the field. Their strength would be judged based on the intensity of their most powerful spell.
For the Buffers, however, there was no orb.
Instead, their abilities would be personally assessed by a specialist proctor, an expert in support magic who would test their effectiveness in real time.
The test began with the Mages.
"Applicant 1, please step forward."
A young woman stepped forward, her lime-pink hair swaying slightly as she walked. Her movements were careful, and she always had that smile.
Yet, as she approached, the proctor's brow furrowed.
Her name was listed under Mages, but… she was also a buffer.
He glanced at the sheet in his hands.
/ Mage & Buffer Mage
A Talent.
One of the rarest kinds.
People who could wield both offensive and support magic were practically unheard of. Perhaps one in a decade.
But what stood out even more was her name.
"Aeloria Havin."
The moment it was spoken, the crowd stirred.
Whispers.
Stares.
Her last name alone was enough to draw attention.
Havin.
Even those unfamiliar with her personally knew what that name carried.
The proctor remained unfazed.
"Begin."
Aeloria smiled.
Raising both hands, she chanted.
"Oh, Nature—grant me your presence. Sing with the whispers of the wind and the roots of the earth…"
Her voice was soft and melodic.
At first, nothing happened.
Some of the applicants watching her frowned.
The light flickered and something small and delicate appeared beside her, fluttering in the air.
A fairy.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
This wasn't just magic.
This was Summoning Magic.
Aeloria turned her gaze toward the fairy, and as if responding, the creature lifted its tiny hands, mirroring her stance.
"Elfians Shackle."
Roots erupted from the ground, twisting and slithering like living vines. They coiled around the orb, creeping up its smooth surface before constricting tightly around it.
BOOM!
An explosion rocked the air.
The roots disintegrated in a flash of light, leaving the orb trembling from the impact before stabilizing once more.
The fairy, satisfied, vanished.
Aeloria smiled to herself and turned back toward the crowd.
A group of girls awaited her, arms open.
She simply walked into their embrace.
The orb continued analyzing.
| Score Analyzing… |
The proctor's eyes remained fixed on the form in his hands as it automatically recorded the results.
"Score: 1676!"
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Applause rippled through the crowd.
It wasn't just a good score.
It was remarkable.
For reference, last year's average was 800.
Scoring above a thousand was an achievement only a few could attain.
The test continued.
The proctor called out the next name.
"Applicant 32, step forward."
A young man cast a fireball, launching it toward the orb.
"Score: 809!"
Then another.
"Applicant 43, step forward."
"Applicant 123, step forward."
"Applicant 197, step forward."
A young woman with pink hair and vivid pink eyes stepped forward.
She raised her hand, unhesitant.
A surge of power rippled through the air.
A blast. A crackling burst of magic.
"Score: 1711!"
The murmurs in the crowd grew louder.
Then, the proctor glanced at the last sheet in his hands.
The final Mage.
He cleared his throat.
"Applicant 213. Step forward."
A tall man with teal-colored hair and half-lidded eyes strode forward.
Unlike the others, he barely lifted his hand.
No dramatic stance. No complex incantation.
Just a lazy wave of his fingers.
A dull boom followed.
No visible impact.
No explosion.
Some applicants scoffed.
Was that it?
But the orb continued analyzing.
| Score Analyzing… |
The wait stretched longer than usual.
Then—
"Score: 1955!"
Silence.
Then, hushed whispers.
He hadn't even tried.
Yet, he still scored the highest.
The Mage Test was officially completed.
As for the Buffers, their test had been conducted at a separate location, but soon, they returned to the field.
Aeloria, despite her Buffer Talent, hadn't participated.
After all—
Only one attempt was allowed.
A girl from the buffer group approached the proctor, whispering something.
He nodded.
"The other Proctor has returned to the academy. He has lessons to teach for the sophomores."
Step.
Thus, with no other choice, the proctor from the Mage test moved on to oversee the Swordsman's test.
The Mages and Buffers followed, observing the test with mild curiosity.
Grumbles arose from the swordsmen.
"Tch. They should've just assigned us a separate proctor."
"We've been waiting too long."
Some clicked their tongues, shifting impatiently.
But their complaints didn't matter.
The moment the proctor stepped forward, they fell silent.
The test began.
There were 221 swordsmen.
Though calling them all "swordsmen" was a loose term.
The weapons they wielded were anything but uniform.
Some carried swords.
Others held axes, greatswords, maces, and katanas. Some even wielded chains and blunt weapons.
As long as they had the capability to attack, lead, and fight, that was all that mattered.
At the center of the field stood a training dummy.
But it was no ordinary dummy.
A heavily modified version, enhanced through numerous trials and errors.
It bore the number "75" on its chest—the 75th model.
Which meant…
The previous 74 versions had been destroyed.
A young man standing among the applicants clicked his tongue.
"Where is that fucker?"
Lythian murmured under his breath.
Yet, despite his words, he wasn't worried.
If anything, he'd be happy if Seven never appeared.
If Seven died, then… the oath that shackled his heart would be broken.
A cold smirk twitched at the corner of his lips.
But—
Pain.
His fingers instinctively gripped at his shirt, over his heart.
His expression twisted.
"...I thought the oath would have triggered during the curse analysis…"
A thought lingered in his mind.
During the registration, all applicants had undergone a Curse and Seal Detection. Yet somehow, it hadn't been able to detect the oath.
Why?
The question gnawed at him, but before he could dwell on it further
"Applicant 2. Please step forward."
The voice of the proctor cut through the silence.
A figure moved.
Casually.
A man clad in gold strode forward.
The same man who had walked leisurely during the first test.
The same man who had arrived late, as if the timing didn't matter to him.
Ciae Arventis.
The moment he stepped up, all eyes were on him.
Not just the swordsmen.
Even the mages turned their heads and the buffers whispered among themselves.
In the process, one pair of lemon-green eyes watched him closely.
Aeloria Havin.
She had been curious about him from the beginning.
The second tag holder.
She watched him.
Curious.
Then, the proctor officially started the test.
"Ciae Arventis. Begin."