[Daily Task Timer: 5 minutes remaining]
Kael sat on a stone bench in the middle of the now-familiar statue garden, staring up at the night sky.
'Guess I'm going to find out what "induced nausea" actually means.'
He had wandered around for a while, hoping to bump into one last stranger, but no luck.
The campus was dead quiet. So he gave up.
Stargazing seemed like a better use of his final moments.
"How did I end up with such a lame system, anyway?" he muttered.
He thought back to all those webnovels he used to read, protagonists getting systems that handed out divine sword skills, unlimited mana, instant-level-up cheats.
His? Made him smile at people.
...
[Daily Task Timer: 1 minute remaining]
[59 seconds...]
[58 seconds...]
...
"Oh, shut up with the counting," Kael grumbled. 'Just hit me with the punishment already so I can go to bed.'
[20 seconds...]
[19 seconds...]
He glanced toward one of the statues the green-haired girl had "upgraded."
It had once been a dignified mage, beard carved in stone, robes flowing, staff raised in glory.
Now?
It had bright pink eyebrows, spirals drawn on its cheeks, and a crude smiley face sketched right on the crotch of its robe.
A banana was duct-taped to the staff, and someone had hung a sign around its neck that said "Banana princess."
Kael snorted.
Then, a genuine chuckle escaped him as he took in the absurd masterpiece.
[Subtask Status: 3/3]
[Daily Task Complete]
"..."
'Wait… what?'
Kael stood up slowly, his eyes locking onto the statue.
It hadn't moved. And yet… it felt different in his eyes now.
Like it had weight.
More Presence.
The shadows around its base looked darker than they had a minute ago, seeming to deepen and writhe.
"…Oh hell no."
He turned and bolted.
Full sprint, no hesitation, no looking back.
He didn't stop until he slammed the door shut behind him at the boys' dormitory and leaned against it, heart pounding.
"I really need some sleep."
◆ ◆ ◆
The sun had barely climbed over the academy's eastern towers when horns sounded.
Deep. Resonant. Impossible to ignore.
They echoed across the entire campus, shaking students from sleep and sending them scrambling.
Every first-year had been ordered to gather at the Combat Grounds—a vast coliseum-style field on the eastern edge of campus.
Kael woke to the sound, his head pounding, his stomach still faintly queasy.
He sighed.
"...I hate mornings."
The Combat Grounds were massive.
Easily the size of several football fields, surrounded by tiered stone seating that could hold thousands of spectators. The field itself was packed with equipment: training dummies, weapon racks, sparring platforms, spell-testing zones marked with glowing runes.
And filling every inch of space were students.
Thousands of them.
A sea of black and blue—Knights in black uniforms, Mages in blue—swarming the grounds with nervous energy.
Some were stretching.
Others whispered anxiously to friends. A few stood alone, eyes closed, breathing slowly.
The noise was overwhelming. Voices overlapping, boots scraping stone, the hum of mana in the air.
Kael stood somewhere in the middle of it all, swaying slightly, eyes half-closed.
He yawned. Loudly.
"Are you seriously still sleepy after sleeping like a dead log yesterday?" Theo asked, standing beside him with a raised eyebrow.
Kael's head tilted just slightly toward him. "Well, I slept late, remember?"
"You mean after sleeping through the entire afternoon?"
Kael's lips twitched. "You know what? I don't think we're going to be best friends after all."
Theo didn't answer.
He just shook his head and adjusted his glasses.
...
[Daily Subtask: Ask a question or make a statement during a public gathering.]
[Penalty: Loss of Voice for 6 hours.]
[Daily Task Timer: 18hrs remaining.]
...
Kael glanced sideways at the glowing screen.
"...Yeah, yeah, I get it. Get out of my face."
'Useless system.'
Without warning, the air above the arena shimmered.
Mana threads twisted into a spiral glyph, golden and intricate, spinning slowly as it solidified.
A familiar holographic projection appeared, hovering above the grounds with quiet, overwhelming authority.
Vice Headmaster Revek.
Silence fell instantly.
Ten thousand voices cut off mid-sentence, swallowed by the sheer presence of the man—or his projection—looming above them.
Revek's eyes swept across the crowd, cold and piercing.
"Cadets and Candidates."
His voice didn't boom. It didn't need to. It simply was, pressing into their minds with undeniable weight.
"This is your final warning. Those who are unprepared may leave now."
No one moved.
Not a single person.
Revek's gaze lingered for a moment longer, as if daring someone to walk away.
"Very well."
He raised one hand, and the glyph above him pulsed once, sending ripples of light across the sky.
"The Entrance Evaluation will now begin."
His voice was sharp. Precise. Every word carried weight.
"There are three tests. You must pass all three. Failure in even one is failure overall. There will be no retakes. No second chances. No exceptions."
A murmur rippled through the crowd—nervous, uncertain—but it died quickly under Revek's gaze.
"Your first test will be held individually. You will demonstrate combat aptitude."
Several floating screens materialized throughout the sky, shimmering with arcane light, each one blank and waiting.
"For Mages, you will be evaluated on: mana flow, channeling stability, spell formation, accuracy, and control under pressure."
He gestured, and one of the screens displayed a glowing diagram—a mage channeling energy into a target.
"For Knights, you will be tested on: physical capability, mana enhancement, weapon proficiency, combat instinct, and adaptability."
Another screen showed a knight in motion—dodging, striking, moving with lethal precision.
"Your name will appear on the screens when it is your turn. Report to your assigned testing platform immediately. Do not make us wait."
Revek's projection leaned forward slightly, and the pressure in the air seemed to increase.
"Scores will be recorded directly by the Archive. Cheating is impossible. Excuses will not be accepted."
He paused.
"Let the tests begin."
The projection vanished.
And instantly, the crowd erupted—a roar of anxious whispers, nervous energy, barely restrained panic.
Names began flashing across the floating screens, glowing in bright golden letters.
Students surged forward, forming lines near the main testing platforms as instructors barked orders and pointed them toward their stations.
Kael sighed, his shoulders slumping.
'...I really hate mornings.'
◆ ◆ ◆
The first names appeared on the floating sky-screens.
Students stepped forward one by one toward the row of raised stone platforms at the front of the combat grounds.
Each platform was identical: A flat circle of reinforced stone, inscribed with glowing runes. At the center stood an Evaluation Dummy—a humanoid construct made of enchanted wood and metal, its surface covered in reactive sigils that glowed faintly blue.
These weren't ordinary training dummies.
They could move. React. Fight back.
An instructor stood beside each platform, clipboard in hand, expression carved from granite.
The first Knight stepped forward—a broad-shouldered boy with a polished sword and a confident smirk.
The instructor's voice was flat. "Begin."
The boy took his stance. Feet planted. Weight centered. Sword raised.
'Good form,' the instructor noted silently.
He channeled mana into his legs—just a flicker of red light tracing through his muscles—and lunged.
The dummy's eyes flared.
It sidestepped.
The boy adjusted mid-swing, corrected his angle, and struck cleanly across the dummy's chest.
The sigils flared bright blue, registering the impact.
The instructor marked something down.
"Solid technique. Mana control acceptable. Pass."
The boy grinned and stepped off the platform.
Another student followed—a smaller, leaner girl with fierce eyes and a bow slung across her back.
She nocked an arrow, drew back smoothly, and fired.
The arrow struck the dummy's forehead dead-center.
The sigils flared.
The instructor nodded once. "Efficient. Controlled. Pass."
Then came the third.
A nervous boy, trembling slightly, gripping his sword too tightly.
"Begin."
He roared—trying to psych himself up—and charged forward.
His swing was wild. Off-balance. Desperate.
The dummy didn't even need to dodge.
The blade bounced off its reinforced surface, barely leaving a mark.
The sigils flickered weakly.
The instructor's face didn't change.
"Fail. Next."
The boy stumbled off the platform, face pale, hands shaking.
It went on like that.
Some passed. Some didn't.
A few showed promise. Most were adequate.
A name lit up on one of the floating screens, glowing in bold letters.
KAEL DARVEN
Kael blinked.
"Oh. Guess that's me."
Strangely enough, they already had his full name—even though he was pretty sure he hadn't told anyone yet.
Theo raised an eyebrow. "Try not to fall asleep mid-swing."
"No promises," Kael mumbled, already shuffling toward the platform, dragging his boots like someone who'd just rolled out of bed.
Which, technically, he had.
He didn't even look at the dummy until he was already standing in front of it.
The instructor—a burly man with a permanent scowl and arms like tree trunks—gave him a long, skeptical look.
"...Weapon?"
Kael blinked. "Uhm. I don't own one."
The instructor's scowl deepened.
He gestured to an assistant, who handed Kael a basic training sword—no enchantments, dull-edged, just heavy enough to qualify as a weapon.
Kael held it like someone holding a broom for the first time.
His grip was awkward. Loose. Wrong.
The instructor exhaled slowly, a hint of impatience creeping into his posture.
"Take your stance."
Kael looked down at his feet.
Then at the sword.
Then back at his feet.
"...Like this?"
He shifted his weight vaguely, one foot sort of in front of the other, knees barely bent.
It was, objectively, one of the worst stances the instructor had ever seen.
The man pinched the bridge of his nose.
"...Close enough. You may begin when ready."
Kael shrugged. "Alright. Let's just get this over with."
He had zero expectations of doing anything remotely impressive.
No stance. No warm-up. No technique.
He just stepped forward—casually, lazily—and swung.
His angle was wrong. His grip was terrible. His form was nonexistent.
The instructor almost shook his head mid-swing, certain this would be a spectacular failure.
It looked like Kael was swatting a particularly annoying fly.
And then—
The dummy which had also seen no need to move exploded on impact.
Not flared.
Not cracked.
Exploded.
"..."
A shockwave of blue light and splintered wood burst outward from the impact point, sending fragments scattering across the platform. The dummy's torso disintegrated, its legs collapsing in a heap of smoking wreckage.
The sigils—designed to measure and absorb impact—shattered, their light flickering out like dying stars.
The sound echoed across the entire combat grounds.
Every head in the area turned.
Conversations died mid-sentence.
Even nearby instructors flinched, their expressions shifting from boredom to intrest in an instant.
Kael stumbled back a step, eyes wide with genuine surprise.
'What the—'
The instructor stared at the ruined platform.
At the debris where the dummy had stood.
At the sword in Kael's hand, which somehow hadn't broken.
Then slowly—very slowly—he lowered his clipboard.
"...Candidate."
Kael blinked. "Uh. Yeah?"
"Did you use mana enhancement?"
Kael scratched the back of his neck, genuinely confused. "Uhm... no?"
'I don't even know how to.'
Silence.
The instructor's jaw tightened.
He glanced at another instructor nearby, who looked equally baffled.
Then back at Kael.
"...Step off the platform."
Kael hesitated. "So… am I done?"
"Yes, you passed."
Kael nodded slowly and walked off, still holding the sword.
An assistant had to chase after him to get it back.
As he rejoined the crowd, students parted slightly, staring at him with wide eyes and hushed whispers.
Theo was waiting, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
"...That was impressive."
Kael shrugged. "I have no idea what just happened."
Theo adjusted his glasses, studying him with quiet intensity.
"Neither do they."
From the platform, the instructor was still staring at the wreckage, muttering something under his breath.
Another instructor approached, clipboard in hand.
"What do we mark him as?"
The first instructor was silent for a long moment.
Then, finally:
"...Pass. But flag him for observation."
"Observation?"
"That boy," the instructor said slowly, his eyes still on the ruined dummy, "either has no idea how strong he is..."
He paused.
"...or he's hiding something."