The vast open field prepared for the practical exams resembled a festival ground. The enormous grassy area, enclosed by high stone walls, took on a mystical atmosphere as magical light pillars reflected sunlight toward the sky. Students awaiting the exam exchanged nervous yet excited glances—some reviewing spellbooks one last time, others gripping their wands with trembling fingers.
At the rear of the examination grounds, massive banners rippled in the breeze, bearing the academy's pride. An emblem woven with golden threads shimmered under the sun, a reminder of the world's most prestigious magic academy. The stands brimmed with important figures: senior professors, renowned sorcerers, and even some of the nation's mightiest heroes had gathered to witness this special day.
Among them were those scrutinizing the students like lab specimens—some furrowing brows to gauge potential, others hastily scribbling notes.
A middle-aged man emerged from the crowd. His hawk-like eyes gleamed with analytical sharpness, and the wrinkles on his forehead spoke of decades of experience. His indifferent gaze at the examinees made them feel like insects beneath a microscope.
Just then, his attention shifted to a white-haired woman approaching with graceful steps.
"It's been a while, Alfia."
The man glanced sideways at her. Her silver hair cascaded like a waterfall over her shoulders, stirred by the wind. She inclined her head slightly in greeting, her golden eyes gleaming with an otherworldly glow.
"Headmaster Herald. I didn't expect to see you here."
"Attending mundane events isn't my style," the elder sorcerer replied, his voice deep and grave. "But this year's candidates... intrigued me personally."
Alfia smiled faintly. "Ah, yes. There are some exceptionally strong candidates this year. I've met a few—Sofia Lyons and Arnold Turner... you likely know their lineages already."
She gestured toward two students in the crowd, though Herald needed no indication—his mana sensitivity far surpassed ordinary mages.
"Yes. I recognize Hector's daughter, Sofia," said Herald, lips curling slightly. "Hector seems unable to attend, still sequestered with the Mana Seed. And the other... Minerva Turner's son?"
"Correct, sir."
"I see. These children are indeed interesting... but they're not why I came."
Alfia raised an eyebrow and followed Herald's gaze.
Near the stands, a solitary girl stood out. Her fiery red hair blazed like embers in sunlight, and her piercing green eyes scanned the surroundings with inscrutable depth. Unlike the mingling students, she seemed in her own world—as if mana itself danced around her, weaving a protective shield.
"Truly mesmerizing..." Alfia thought, though she didn't recall seeing her name on the participant list.
"Hey there. How's it going?"
A cheerful laugh shattered Alfia's contemplation like sunlight breaking through clouds.
A black-haired woman in dark blue robes descended from a nearby tower, her every step making her cloak billow like a trailing shadow. Her sharp gaze carried palpable weight, and her amethyst eyes—deep and enchanting, like gemstones glowing at midnight—locked onto Herald.
"Oh gods, Herald! Long time no see!" she called, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. "How's academy life? Still terrifying students with those glares of yours?"
Herald arched a brow. "Pheniyet. Didn't expect you here. Especially after all this time..."
Pheniyet strode closer, her confident aura radiating charm. She tugged playfully at Herald's sleeve—clearly aiming to disrupt his solemnity. "What, not happy to see an old friend? You never change... lovely as ever."
Herald narrowed his eyes. "Likewise, Pheniyet. Why did the Council send *you*? I expected someone else."
She shrugged. "Plans changed last minute. Someone... *special* forced us to alter the exam format."
Herald's eyes rolled so hard they might've fallen out. His expression screamed, "Again?" He leaned back in his seat with a long-suffering sigh.
"Let's... just focus on administering this damned exam."
"Hey, not my fault this time!"
Pheniyet giggled at his irritation, her lilting voice echoing as her violet eyes fixed on the arena. With a graceful hand wave, she added, "Don't worry—the usual entertainment's coming."
As she settled into the seat beside him, she adjusted the luxurious fur draped over her shoulders. The fabric slid silkily under her fingers while she side-eyed Herald. "So, what's the Council's final decision? How's the test structured?" Herald asked, scowling.
Pheniyet tilted her head, feigning surprise. "You *really* don't know?"
Herald's glare could've melted stone. "Why would I? Nobody tells me anything useful! I'm just here to spectate, like everyone else. Damn it, what's the point of being a headmaster? Should've taken that corporate job with the big clans!"
Pheniyet clapped, delighted. "This year, we're sticking to tradition—a battle royale! We'll drop students into a magically constructed environment, and rankings determine winners."
Alfia interjected, eyes wide. "So only 100 out of 500 will pass?"
"Precisely, Professor Alfia," Pheniyet confirmed. "And the final rankings within those 100 will factor in our... *discretionary* evaluations."
Herald muttered, "So nepotism wins again."
*Of course it did.* If highborn scions weren't favored, the Council would face backlash. And if the Council faltered, the academy would tremble. This institution already balanced on a knife's edge, upheld by the fragile goodwill of clan leaders. One misstep could topple everything.
"Whatever. Not my problem," Herald grumbled, rolling his eyes. "I'm only here because my expertise is *required*. As a Master Sorcerer, I have to stabilize the dimensional field."
Alfia stared at him, stunned. Creating a stable pocket dimension demanded mastery even *she* hadn't achieved—it required impossibly intricate mana manipulation. Try as she might to hide it, curiosity flared: *How would he manage it?*
Then her gaze snagged on a black-haired boy standing alone at the arena's edge. Her expression shifted to concern. Her lips moved silently:
"I hope you succeed, Kaelen..."