"What is the one truth about yourself that you avoid acknowledging, even when you're alone?"
Austin frowned, his hand resting lightly on the parchment. This question was different, more personal.
He set the quill down and laced his fingers together, staring at the words.
After a moment, he picked up the quill again, the scratch of his writing slower this time.
He recalled the lost peaceful times with his parents, the fears he couldn't shake off, and how he ended up enrolling in the academy.
He thought about the sudden changes in this life that seems out of his control.
Austin leaned back in his chair after he finished writing his answer, glancing around at his peers.
Some looked pale, their quills trembling as they wrote. Others tapped their feet nervously, erasing and rewriting their answers.
As he turned back to his paper, the next question suddenly appeared before him, the ink fading into existence.
The sixth question appeared, its elegant script illuminated against the faint glow of the parchment.
"What lies at the heart of a Magian's power?"
Austin read it once, then twice, before a small smirk formed on his lips.
This wasn't some personal questions nor veiled riddle. It was basic knowledge—a fact drilled into every Magian student through their earliest studies.
"Mana," he wrote simply, the quill gliding smoothly across the paper.
So, it's shifted, he thought. Austin straightened slightly, his fingers tapping the edge of the desk.
The following questions diverged sharply from the initial personality-based inquiries.
They were now more precise, each one exploring theoretical principles, deductive reasoning, and applications of the Mystical Arts.
It didn't take long for Austin to realize the shift wasn't random—it was tailored to his first answer: Scholar.
A question asked him to evaluate the structural integrity of an enchantment based on provided parameters.
Another presented an incomplete rune sequence, asking him to deduce its missing element.
Austin worked swiftly. He not only thrive in displays of raw power but in problem-solving and deciphering intricate systems.
Thank you, Akasha.
One question stood out:
"A bridge collapses due to mana instability. Explain the root cause and propose a solution to prevent future failures."
Austin paused for a moment, letting the details of the problem sink in.
He could practically see the diagram in his mind with Akasha's help, the hypothetical currents of mana weaving through the structure.
His quill quickly wrote his response.
"The root cause lies in improper mana flow regulation, leading to accumulation at stress points. A balanced rune sequence with adaptive modulation would stabilize the energy and prevent collapse."
The parchment absorbed his answer, glowing faintly as if in approval.
Austin continued through the test, finally reaching a trance state.
By the time he reached the end, Austin set his quill down and glanced around the room.
Many of the students were still furrowing their brows, their quills hovering hesitantly over their papers.
A few others had already slumped back in their chairs, their expressions a mix of frustration and exhaustion.
Austin, however, leaned back. If the goal was to gauge his potential as a Scholar, he knew he had left little room for doubt.
***
The Academy's Grand Arena is a colossal, circular coliseum constructed from polished white stone, the structure's grand arches and reinforced pillars are adorned with intricate mystical runes that shimmer faintly under the sun.
When Austin entered, he noticed a lone student already present, sitting quietly on one of the Arena's edges.
The student offered no greeting, her gaze fixed somewhere in the arena.
Austin chose a spot far enough to avoid attention but close enough to observe the entrance.
The sheer scale of the Arena made him feel small, a sensation he couldn't decide was humbling or unnerving.
The battlefield at its center is a vast, open space with a smooth yet durable floor of enchanted obsidian, designed to withstand even the most powerful mystical arts.
The seating tiers rise steeply, carved from the same sturdy stone, their surfaces worn smooth by generations of spectators.
Clear crystal inlays trace along the edges of stairways and balconies, reflecting light with a subtle gleam.
High above the highest balcony, five banners ripple despite the absence of wind.
The center displayed the academy's crest while Austin noticed the crest of the Valdoris Archeon in one of the smaller four banners.
The Valdoris Archeon's crest, displayed proudly on their deep crimson banner with gold accents, features a Nemean Lion in a commanding stance. The lion, depicted in intricate yellow embroidery, has a flowing mane and piercing eyes.
A few moments later, a man entered, his footsteps echoing sharply against the marble.
He was an older figure, with a round face and a ruddy complexion, his shorter white beard framing a constant, jolly smile.
His robes, deep apricot and adorned with bronze accents, swayed with his energetic stride. He clapped his hands together, his voice booming with warmth and enthusiasm.
"Well, well, well! It seems we have some eager young minds here already!" He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with genuine delight. "I'm Professor Klaus Fuchs, and I'll be overseeing this year's Staff Succession Ceremony. But first let us come closer together in this side of the arena as we wait for the rest of your peers to arrive. Patience is a virtue, after all!"
The students who just arrived exchanged puzzled glances while following the Professor's instructions.
One of them, unable to hold back, asked, "If we're waiting for the others, why were we sent here so early?"
Professor Fuchs only responded with a warm, knowing smile. "Ah, questions already! A good sign. But trust me, everything will make sense in time. For now, consider this your first task—sometimes, it's not about the answers you seek but the patience you cultivate."
Though his words didn't entirely satisfy the students, his cheerful demeanor made it hard to press further.
The atmosphere in one corner of the arena was tense yet quiet as the group settled into an uneasy silence, with students either sitting or pacing. The anticipation of the Staff Succession ceremony weighed heavily on them as they waited.
Professor Fuchs, ever the jovial figure, strolled around, casually engaging in light-hearted conversations to ease the tension.
His laughter echoed through the grand space as he complimented one student on their posture and teased another about their nervous tapping.
When he approached Austin, however, his demeanor shifted subtly. Lowering his voice, he leaned close, his cheerful expression replaced with something more serious.
"I can see that you are doing well in your mana supression."
"You taught me well, Master."
A pause hung between them before the professor's eyes blinked unhurriedly.
"Release your mana for a brief moment, boy," he whispered, his tone firm but measured.