The Speed Trial was a twisting maze of shifting platforms and magical acceleration fields.
He cleared it in under half the average time.
One of the watching staff nearly tripped trying to activate the stop-clock in time.
Argolaith didn't even look winded.
The Combat Arena was waiting—an open circle of reinforced rune-stone.
His opponent stood waiting: a large man in dragon-hide armor, arms crossed, his own pendant glowing Gold. He wielded a warhammer as tall as Argolaith himself.
"Don't hold back," the man warned. "I won't."
Argolaith didn't.
In less than a minute, the man lay flat on his back, the warhammer lodged twenty feet away in a wall, and three evaluators blinking in disbelief.
Marene was now gripping the desk so hard her knuckles had gone white.
The Written Exam was a breeze.
Argolaith, despite his wandering life, had absorbed far more than most adventurers twice his age. His answers were concise, accurate, and showed both tactical and practical insight.
