The first rays of morning slanted into the training halls.
Reinforcement is multiplicative of the body's base stats, so the greater your original body is, the easier it is to reinforce to insane degrees. For me, though, I had enough cursed energy to reinforce my weaker body to insane degrees.
Punching bags swayed violently as I struck them, each hit far harder than a child of five should manage. The sound echoed through the hall, reverberating off the worn wood and stone. A few students glanced nervously in my direction.
"Did you see that?" someone whispered. "That's… not human."
'These punching bags are way too loud. I'll just head over to the area with the weights. Should be quieter over there, plus it will be the most accurate method of comparing my physical abilities to the others here.'
The weight area was louder; I could hear all these people hyping the person they were exercising with. It honestly reminded me of those gym bros you would see. At the front of the gym, they had a sign displaying the statistics needed to pass the evaluation. Running times, lifting strength, and ability to take damage.
Outside of the ability to take hits and a few other tests, I was able to measure and see whether I could pass the first evaluation. Utilizing an immense amount of cursed energy compared to the others, I was able to reach the physical level to pass.
Still, I am going to need to train more when I get older. Since Tomogui and I share cursed energy reserves, we must limit the cursed energy we waste, and training our bodies will help conserve cursed energy when it comes to reinforcement.
Across the courtyard, in a different hall, Tomogui followed a similar routine—quietly, deliberately, keeping to himself. He avoided the center of the room, the exposed benches, and the curious eyes of his peers.
He chose a barbell near the wall, lifted, and racked it without struggle. The instructor approached, eyebrows raised.
"…You're using a lot of cursed energy to reinforce yourself," the instructor said.
Tomogui sat up and nodded once.
"…How old are you?"
"Five," he replied evenly.
Silence hung for a moment, broken only by the soft clang of metal in the distance.
"You probably will pass the evaluation in a few days, still, when you grow up, you must remember to train more, the strength of your physical body will become much more important the higher you reach," the instructor said finally, before turning away.
Tomogui rose and moved toward the exit, careful to avoid drawing more attention. A boy from yesterday leaned against the wall, waiting.
"Are you done already?" the boy asked.
Tomogui nodded.
The boy grinned. "Figures. I honestly didn't expect you to be that strong."
"You scared?" Tomogui jokingly asked.
"I'll admit, your physical capabilities are already on par with mine despite not training, but I, too have reached the level to finally pass this stage, so don't underestimate me." With no shame, he began flexing his physique. For a 10-year-old, the build was abnormal.
"... By the way, we never exchanged names yesterday. I am Tomogui Kamo."
"I'm Kenta Kamo, the man who will become a special grade 1 sorcerer," He proclaimed while puffing his chest out.
"... If you are trying to flex, why not just say you will become a special grade sorcerer?"
_________________________________________________________________________________
1 week later…
The evaluation took place in the center courtyard.
By the time we arrived, instructors from all five first-stage halls had gathered, standing along the edges of the stone square. A wooden board had been erected near the front, etched with names and sections—each corresponding to one of the Stage One areas.
Roughly thirty students stood in loose rows.
Some were older teenagers, some were younger. All of them, however, had better physiques than we did.
An elder stepped forward, voice calm and practiced.
"Stage One evaluation is simple," he said. "This is not combat. This is a measurement of physical readiness."
He gestured, and instructors began directing students into groups.
"The evaluation consists of four parts. Speed, strength, and durability."
No one spoke.
"Cursed energy reinforcement is permitted," the elder continued.
The first test was speed.
A circular track had been carved into the courtyard stone long ago. When the signal was given, students ran. Instructors ran ahead of us; we were supposed to keep up with their pace or would be considered too slow to pass.
I kept on pace, Tomogui and Kenta kept up as well.
Reinforcement layered cleanly through my legs, controlled and steady. Not explosive. Just enough.
Around me, runners dropped off one by one—some collapsing outright, others slowing to a crawl as their cursed energy thinned too quickly.
By the time the horn sounded, less than half the group was still standing.
Strength came next.
A cube of dense metal was revealed to us.
"This cube of metal will be the strength test. To pass, you must raise the metal cube above your head and keep it above your head for 20 seconds."
Each student stepped forward in turn, lifting under observation. Eventually, it was my turn to go forward
"That's enough," he said after I held it above my head for the required 20 seconds.
A few murmurs followed.
I stepped aside without comment.
Tomogui's turn ended the same way. One lift. One nod. Dismissed.
Kenta strained more, reinforcement flaring visibly—but the bar rose, steady and controlled.
He passed.
Most didn't.
Some failed to lift at all. Others succeeded, only to collapse after 10 seconds of holding the cube.
The final test was durability.
No techniques. No weapons.
Students stood in reinforced stances while instructors struck—measured blows meant to test how much damage we could take without falling over.
Some couldn't remain standing.
When it was my turn, the strike landed squarely against my torso.
The force traveled through me—and stopped.
The instructor's arm stilled.
He withdrew without comment.
Tomogui was struck next. He slid back half a step, then settled.
Kenta took the blow even easier than me, must be because of his body.
When it was over, the courtyard was quiet.
Only four names were written on the board.
Futago Kamo
Tomogui Kamo
Kenta Kamo
Ryuunosuke Kamo
The elder stepped forward once more.
"These four have passed Stage One," he said. "All others will remain and continue training."
There was no applause.
Just silence—and a few stares.
Kenta let out a slow breath, then glanced sideways at Tomogui.
"Told you," he said quietly.
Tomogui nodded once.
I looked at the board, then toward the path leading deeper into the training grounds.
Stage Two waited.