The academy gates were exactly how I remembered them.
Massive stone pillars carved with ancient runes towered above the crowd, radiating a pressure that made weaker candidates instinctively slow their steps. Even after five years, nothing about this place had changed.
Except me.
Hundreds of teenagers gathered in the wide plaza before the gates—some excited, some nervous, some already dressed like nobles who believed they belonged inside.
And then there were people like me.
Plain clothes. No family emblem. No escort.
Cannon fodder, in their eyes.
"Did you hear?" someone whispered nearby. "They say only one out of ten passes."
"That's if you're lucky."
I walked forward without reacting.
"Despair detected."
"Fear detected."
The blade stirred slightly beneath my clothes, responding to the emotional storm around us. I could feel it—waves of anxiety, ambition, jealousy.
So much fuel.
A loud boom echoed across the plaza.
The conversations died instantly.
An old man stood atop the stone platform before the gates, his presence alone enough to silence hundreds. His robes were simple, but the pressure he emitted made even experienced guards straighten.
"Welcome," he said, his voice calm yet carrying effortlessly. "To the Blackstone Combat Academy."
My eyes narrowed.
So he was the examiner this year.
That explained the death rate.
"Today's exam has three stages," the old man continued. "Strength. Survival. Judgment."
Murmurs spread through the crowd.
He raised one finger.
"Fail any one of them, and you are disqualified. There are no second chances."
I smiled faintly.
Just like before.
"First stage," he said, snapping his fingers.
The ground trembled.
Stone pillars rose from beneath the plaza, each crowned with a glowing crystal orb.
"Strike the crystal," the examiner said. "It will measure your raw power. You may use weapons, mana, or skills."
One by one, candidates stepped forward.
Some barely made the crystal flicker.
Others drew cheers as the orb glowed bright blue.
A noble boy unleashed a spell that made the crystal shine violently.
The crowd gasped.
"Rank B potential!"
Impressive.
Five years ago, that would've shaken me.
Now?
I waited.
When my turn came, the examiner glanced at me briefly—then away.
No expectations.
Good.
I stepped up to the pillar.
The crystal hovered before me, pulsing softly.
Raw power alone… wasn't my strength.
I placed my hand on the sword's hilt.
Not to draw it.
Just to connect.
"Minimal output," I whispered.
The blade answered.
"Shadow Reinforcement activated (Low)."
I struck.
No explosion.
No flash.
Just a dull thud.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then—
The crystal darkened.
Cracks spread across its surface like spiderwebs, and the glow turned pitch black before stabilizing.
The plaza fell silent.
The examiner's eyes snapped open.
"…Interesting," he murmured.
The crystal reformed, displaying its result.
Potential: Unclassified
Whispers erupted.
"What does that mean?"
"Did it break?"
"Is that a failure?"
I stepped back calmly.
I knew the truth.
The crystal couldn't measure something that didn't belong to its system.
The examiner smiled—just slightly.
"Pass," he said.
My gaze lifted.
Stage one was over.
And somewhere deep inside the academy, something ancient had noticed me.