Finally, it was the day of the examination.
Rush woke before dawn. The air in the inn room was stale, smelling of old pine. His eyes drifted briefly to the mana-suppression array carved into the wooden ceiling. The faint, blue luminescence of the runes remained steady—intact. A small reassurance.
Excitement stirred in his chest, a tight knot of heat tangled with a cold tension he refused to acknowledge.
Rush clenched his fist slowly, feeling the rough texture of the bedsheets.
I want him to be proud.
"You're unsettled, boy," Beelzebub observed, his voice sliding through Rush's mind like oil on stone.
Rush ignored him and began preparing for the day. Cold water on his face. The scratch of the towel. The weight of his grey coat settling onto his shoulders.
The moment he stepped outside the inn, the sensation returned.
That feeling again, Rush thought, scanning the crowded street. I've felt it since arriving in the capital. Being watched.
It wasn't hostile. Nor intrusive. Just… a phantom pressure on the back of his neck. A silent, unblinking observation from a great distance.
He shook the thought away, the morning chill biting at his cheeks, and continued toward the Academy.
The Royal Academy of Atherland. The most prestigious academy in the empire. It had shaped emperors, knights, archmages, and assassins—figures whose names were etched into history itself.
Students were escorted into a massive lecture hall, a cavern of tiered stone seats that smelled of centuries of dust and dry parchment. The air buzzed with a low, headache-inducing hum—the sound of anti-cheating barriers active in the walls.
An instructor arrived, his voice amplified by wind magic, booming against Rush's eardrums.
"Two stages. First, the Theory Examination covering Basic Magecraft, History, Mathematics, and Alchemy. Second, the Practical Examination."
The examination began.
For hours, the only sound was the frantic scratch-scratch-scratch of a thousand quills on paper, sounding like a plague of insects devouring dry leaves. The scent of nervous sweat and iron ink grew thick in the room.
By the time dusk settled over the city, casting long orange shadows across the hall, the theory exam was over. Rush exhaled quietly, rubbing the ink stain on his thumb. It had gone well.
The next day, the results were announced.
At the center of the plaza stood a towering information board, the mana-crystal surface glowing with a harsh white light. Students crowded around it, a chaotic sea of bodies pushing and shoving. The noise was deafening—shouts of joy, groans of despair.
Rush remained at a distance, the cool breeze offering little relief from the stifling tension of the crowd.
"Look at the top," Beelzebub said.
Rush raised his gaze.
TOP TEN – THEORY EXAMINATION RESULTS
1. Richard Dragonean (A-Block)
2. Jennifer Wolfheart (A-Block)
3. Rush Ryanheart (D-Block)
4. Patricia Aetos (A-Block)
5. Ethan Takahashi (B-Block)
6. Slavic Petrova (B-Block)
7. Kurt Aetos (A-Block)
8. Helena Spereword (A-Block)
9. Kimberly Housart (A-Block)
10. Nia Whispers (D-Block)
Third, Rush noted. Not bad.
But then his eyes narrowed.
House Aetos. Richard Dragonean. And—
"Is that Princess Jennifer?" someone whispered nearby, their voice trembling with awe.
Rush stepped away from the board, the gravel crunching beneath his boots. Only half the candidates had passed.
Moments later, a voice echoed across the plaza, vibrating in the stones.
"Those who passed the theory examination, proceed immediately to Academy Arena Three—Ken's Arena, east district. Follow the second-year guides."
Nearly four hundred students moved as one, a thundering herd heading East.
Arena Three was vast. The smell of sand and dry earth hit Rush immediately. Two figures stood at its center.
"I am Professor Gilbert Ramsey," the taller man announced, pointing to the jagged scarring on his face. "This is Professor Tim Spellworth."
They explained the rules succinctly.
Each candidate would face monsters of increasing rank. These were mana-constructs—copies created by the Academy for practice purposes, but deadly nonetheless. Evaluation would be based on performance, control, and judgment. Pass or fail would be declared immediately.
Names were called. The heavy iron gates rumbled open, the sound of metal grinding on stone echoing through the silence.
"Richard Dragonean. Step into the arena."
A boy with crimson-trimmed robes strode into the arena. His posture was proud—no, entitled. Auburn hair fell loosely over sharp eyes that glowed with an inner, amber light.
Whispers rippled through the stands like a breeze.
"House Dragonean…"
"A fire prodigy, they say."
"He topped A-Block."
Richard didn't acknowledge them. He rolled his shoulders once. The air around him shimmered, distorting with heat haze.
The first gate opened. An F-rankGoblin emerged, the stench of unwashed fur wafting into the arena. It screeched.
Richard raised a single hand. A fire sigil ignited mid-air—crackling and popping like a bonfire.
"Burn."
A torrent of flame erupted forward with a roar like a jet engine. The goblin didn't even have time to scream. The fire slammed into the arena floor, scorch marks cracking outward as a wave of dry heat washed over the front row of the stands.
Professor Spellworth frowned, shielding his eyes from the glare. "Excessive."
The second gate opened immediately. An E-rank Armored Boar charged, hooves thundering against the ground.
Richard grinned. Mana surged—too much. The smell of ozone and sulfur filled the air. Flames wrapped around his body like a mantle as he thrust both palms forward.
"Explode."
BOOM.
The fireball detonated on impact. The boar was thrown sideways, armor melting into slag, flesh charred black. It collapsed in a smoking heap, the smell of burnt meat instantly pungent.
The third gate opened. A D-rank Lizard-Warrior stepped out, scales glistening, claws scraping the stone. It hesitated—then lunged.
Richard's casting stuttered. Too much output. The monster closed the distance.
Richard snarled and forced mana through, veins glowing faintly red beneath his skin. Flames burst outward in a chaotic spiral, engulfing both combatants. When the fire dissipated, the monster lay motionless, smoke rising from its scales.
Richard staggered once, gasping for air… then straightened.
Silence.
Professor Ramsey spoke calmly. "Pass."
Richard smirked and turned, cloak trailing scorched air behind him as he exited.
"Strong. Wasteful," Beelzebub scoffed inside Rush's mind. "He'll kill himself one day if he keeps forcing power like that."
The arena gates reset. The smell of smoke lingered.
"Jennifer Wolfheart." Announcement echoed.
The reaction was immediate.
A girl stepped forward. She wore a white-and-blue combat suit of pristine leather that hugged her frame like a second skin. Segmented armor plates, dyed a deep royal blue, protected her chest and shoulders, layering over each other like the folded wings of a bird of prey. A high collar framed her neck, and silver vambraces glinted on her forearms.
Her long silver-blonde hair was tied neatly, her expression calm and composed. Her body language radiated confidence.
Rush blinked once.
The first gate opened. An F-rank Goblin charged.
Jennifer took one step forward. The air temperature plummeted. Rush could see his own breath misting in the sudden chill.
She snapped her fingers. Tink.
A razor-thin ice shard formed instantly with a sound like breaking glass and pierced the goblin's forehead. It collapsed mid-step. Clean. Silent.
The second gate opened. An E-rank Wild Boar burst out.
Jennifer didn't retreat. She moved. Her footwork was light, almost soundless. As the boar charged, she slid to the side, palm brushing the air.
"Freeze."
Ice bloomed across the ground, glittering under the stadium lights. The boar's legs locked mid-stride, skidding on the frost. Jennifer vaulted gracefully, twisting mid-air, and drove a condensed ice lance down through its skull.
Rush realized he had stopped breathing. The air in the arena felt crisp, sharp.
The third gate opened. A D-rank Frost Ape emerged, roaring as it slammed its fists together.
Jennifer tilted her head. "Oh. You're sturdier."
Mana gathered—but unlike Richard's raging fire, hers was a disciplined, layered hum. The ape lunged.
Jennifer spun, ice forming beneath her feet as she accelerated sideways. Frost chains erupted from the ground with a metallic rattle, slowing the creature. She raised her hand, forming a crystalline spear that caught the light like a diamond.
She released it. It struck the creature's chest and exploded outward—freezing its core instantly. The monster shattered under its own weight with the sound of a falling chandelier.
Professor Spellworth exhaled slowly, watching the ice dust settle. "…Exceptional control."
Professor Ramsey nodded. "Pass."
Jennifer turned, brushing ice dust from her sleeve. She glanced briefly toward the waiting candidates. Her eyes met Rush's. She smiled faintly, but her eyes were sharp as icicles.
Then she turned away.
So he is Ryanheart, she thought, before walking away.
The arena atmosphere had shifted. The heat of fire and the bite of ice still lingered in the air.
Then—
"Rush Ryanheart."
The name echoed. And the arena grew quiet.
Eyes turned.
Rush stepped into the arena. The grit of sand beneath his boots. The smell of the previous kills. The silence.
The first gate opened. An F-rank Goblin emerged.
Rush waited. It charged, feet slapping the dirt.
One step aside. One precise strike to the spine.
CRACK.
It was a dry, sickening sound. The goblin collapsed instantly.
Next came the E-rank Armored Boar.
Rush vanished—Flash Step.
A blur of grey. A gust of wind.
His fist connected with the skull. THUD.
It wasn't a magical explosion. It was the visceral sound of kinetic energy transferring into bone. The boar slid lifeless across the arena floor, kicking up a trail of dust.
The silence was deafening.No one spoke. Not even the instructors moved for a breath.
No magic hum. No incantations. Just impact.
Then—the D-rank Mutated Gorilla.
It roared, a guttural sound that vibrated in Rush's chest.
Rush didn't react.
The creature hesitated. It sniffed the air. It sensed a predator.
Rush moved.
In an instant, he was behind it. The gorilla swung wildly—missed, its fist smashing harmlessly into the ground.
"So this is a Ryanheart," Professor Gilbert murmured.
Rush leapt, locked his arms around the creature's thick, musky neck, and twisted his hips.
SNAP.
He landed lightly before the heavy body even hit the ground.
Rush turned to the examiners. He wasn't sweating. His breathing was even.
They exchanged a glance. They saw the speed. The efficiency. The absolute lack of hesitation.
"Pass."
The arena erupted only after he had already returned to his seat.
"That was unnecessary," Beelzebub said.
No, Rush replied calmly, wiping a speck of dust from his coat. It wasn't.
By the end of the day, the sun sat low and red on the horizon. Only forty students remained.
From Block D, only two names remained on the list:
Rush Ryanheart.
And Nia Whispers, the only commoner from Block D.
The examiners announced the end of the practical examination.
"Congratulations to the students who passed the exam, and better luck next time to those who couldn't make it."