The professor opened the door and motioned for me to enter.
Inside, weapons lined the walls.
Swords.
Spears.
Axes.
Shields.
At the center of the room stood a table.
And atop it rested a stone nearly identical to the one used for magical aptitude testing.
As I approached, the professor glanced at me.
"Do you know how swordsman aptitude testing works, Stufon Trey?"
"No," I answered honestly, stepping closer to study the stone. "Please explain."
Visually, it looked almost identical to the mana stone.
But somehow it felt different.
Less pleasant.
The professor nodded, walked over to the wall, and retrieved a small knife.
Returning to my side, he handed it to me before beginning his explanation.
"The swordsman aptitude test functions similarly to magical testing, with one difference."
He pointed toward the stone.
"You must offer blood."
His voice remained calm.
"The stone uses your blood to determine your aptitude."
He continued.
"If your talent is suited for long-range support, the stone will turn purple."
"If your talent favors speed, stealth, and close combat, it will turn green."
"If your aptitude is suited for front-line defense—holding enemies while allies deal decisive damage—the stone will turn metallic."
Once finished, he looked directly into my eyes.
For a moment, I felt a strange chill.
As if I were standing not before a professor—
but a dragon disguised as a man.
"Does it matter where the blood comes from?" I asked, staring at the knife in my hand. "And how deep does the cut need to be?"
The blade felt cold.
Too cold.
The unease in my chest only deepened.
"Blood is blood, Stufon Trey," the professor replied lazily.
He stepped back, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes.
"It can come from any part of your body. A few drops are enough."
I nodded.
Then extended one hand over the stone.
Holding the knife in my other hand, I pressed the tip hard into my palm.
Pain shot through me instantly.
My body instinctively wanted to pull away.
I clenched my teeth.
And kept going.
The blade sank deeper.
A sharp sting pulsed through my hand as blood welled up, thick and red.
Removing the knife, I squeezed my injured hand over the stone.
Pain throbbed with every heartbeat.
I wanted this over quickly.
Blood dripped down onto the stone.
One drop.
Then another.
I lowered my gaze.
The stone began to change.
White—
then red.
Then black spread through the red like ink bleeding through water.
A few seconds later, the entire stone had become a swirling red-black color speckled with tiny white dots.
I frowned.
Trying to remember the professor's explanation.
Purple.
Green.
Metallic.
Nothing about this.
Nothing even remotely close.
I turned toward him.
He was still leaning against the wall with his eyes closed.
"Professor," I said slowly, "I don't understand what talent this indicates. This color doesn't match anything you described."
At the sound of my voice, he clicked his tongue and muttered something under his breath before opening his eyes and walking toward the stone.
"Move aside. Let me see."
He shoved a small transparent white tablet into my hand.
"And take this. Heal your hand before you bleed all over my floor."
His tone was thoroughly irritated.
I stepped back, tossed the tablet into my mouth, and closed my eyes.