Mordecai stepped into Circle 7, his boots scraping against the chalked runes on the stone floor. The wooden dummy stood five paces away, its enchanted surface shimmering with a faint, judgmental glow.
'I can't use shadow. I can't use death. If I even think about a skeleton right now, a Holy Knight will put a spear through my throat,' Mordecai thought, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs.
He stared at the dummy. He had spent his entire life learning how to rot flesh and bind spirits. He had never cast a "clean" spell in his life. But mana was mana, right? It was just a different frequency.
'Water. I'll try water. It's basic, it's boring, and nobody suspects a Necromancer of being a hydro-mage. It should be just like dark magic—shape the intent, push the flow, and let it out.'
He closed his eyes, visualizing a cool, clear stream. He reached deep, bypassing the pulsing, hungry Abyss of the Primordial Hollow and grabbing a tiny, microscopic thread of his natural mana. He twisted it, forcing the "cold" energy of his training to feel "fluid" instead.
"Hah!"
He thrust his hand forward.
A jet of water slammed into the dummy's chest. It wasn't a masterpiece; it was a bit murky and lacked the spiraling grace of a trained elementalist, but it hit with the force of a heavy sledgehammer. The dummy rocked back on its heels, the impact echoing across the square.
The crystal atop the dummy's head flickered, settling on a steady, bright green light.
"Mordecai Thorne. Element: Water. Power Output: B+," the proctor announced, sounding genuinely surprised. "Acceptable. Move along."
A ripple of snickering broke out from the group of nobles standing near the fountain.
"B+? With a form that ugly?" one boy laughed, adjusting his silk cape. "He looked like he was trying to push a boulder. Typical commoner trash—no elegance, just raw shoving."
"Look at the color of that water," another girl sneered. "It looks like sewer runoff. I suppose that's the best a 'scholar' from the mud-flats can manage."
Mordecai let his shoulders slump and put on a humiliated, red-faced expression. He ducked his head, looking like a kicked dog as he shuffled out of the circle.
'Yes. Laugh, you golden-spooned idiots. Call me trash. Call me a sewer-mage. I don't give a shit,' he thought, a wave of intense relief washing over him. 'B+ is perfect. It's high enough to pass, but low enough that I'm just another face in the crowd. I'm invisible. I'm safe.'
Elara Solari stepped forward, her eyes flashing with a cold light as she looked at the laughing nobles. "That's enough. He passed the exam with a respectable score despite having no formal training. Can all of you say the same for your first time?"
The laughter died down instantly. No one wanted to argue with a Solari. She turned back to Mordecai, her expression unreadable. "You did well, Mordecai. A B+ is a strong start."
"Thank you, Lady Solari," Mordecai mumbled, pretending to be shaken by the insults. "I... I think I'll go find my dormitory now. I need to lie down."
He hurried away before she could ask any more questions. As he turned the corner of the marble building, the blue screen flickered back to life.
[Status: Evaluation Complete]
[Result: Admitted to Aetherius Academy]
[Current Threat Level: High (Dark Magic Tower active search)]
Mordecai leaned his back against a cold stone wall and finally let out a breath he felt like he'd been holding since he fled the Tower.
'I'm in. I'm officially a student at the Royal Academy. Now I just have to survive four years without anyone finding out I have a literal god of death sleeping in my shadow.'
He looked up at the towering white spires of the Academy. Somewhere out there, the High Elders were probably torturing people to find him. Somewhere in this school, Elara Solari was plotting to figure out his secrets.
"Why the fuck is this so hard?" he whispered to the empty hallway.