He finally stood before the gates of the world he had been hunting since awakening in this emaciated body.
At the bridge's entrance, guards locked down access. Their heavy golden plate armor, though carefully polished, bore the scars of routine violence: deep gouges and circular dents dulled the metal, proving their regalia was far from decorative. Davin slipped into the line. When his turn came, he stepped up to the nearest sentry.
"Hello. I'm here for enrollment."
The soldier scrutinized him, his leather-gloved hand resting on the heavy pommel of his sword. He narrowed his eyes, silently gauging the density of mana radiating from the young man. His posture, previously rigid and steeped in mechanical contempt, relaxed a fraction.
"You're an Initial Stage Adept?" "Yes." "Good. Enrollment is free for Adepts. Normally, the fee is three gold coins for the unranked. Step to the side with the other candidates. In three hours, an instructor will arrive to conduct the admission tests."
Davin nodded and headed toward the designated waiting area.
A dozen people were already lingering on the plaza, separated from one another by a palpable mistrust. He let his gaze sweep over their clothes: rough, raw wool tunics for the commoners, a few threadbare dark velvet doublets for fallen nobles. All were marked by the grime and dust of the roads. More importantly, not a single one of them was an Adept. Just ordinary humans or semi-adepts whose auras were barely an imperceptible shiver.
Davin leaned against a cold stone wall, arms crossed. Three hours. A luxury to get his thoughts in order.
If the old veteran finds out his grandkids were ripped to shreds and I'm the only survivor, he'll track me down. Sooner or later. And I absolutely don't have the shoulders to face a Peak Adept today. The Academy is the best possible hideout. The bandits likely left no witnesses, and the news won't reach Mehian anytime soon. I've bought myself time.
He felt no knot in his stomach, no trace of regret. The calculation was sound.
Priorities. Get inside this fortress. Learn to read. Master this damn mana and score a blade that isn't just a glorified letter opener. In that order. As long as I'm illiterate, I remain prey.
Three hours later, a man appeared. He hadn't arrived via the bridge or the road; he was simply there, in the middle of the plaza, as if he had just pulled himself out of the surrounding air.
His aura sliced through the atmosphere. It was less crushing than that of the Countess's grand mage in blue, but it relegated Kys to the rank of an amateur. The stranger wore a grey cap from which long strands of deep emerald green escaped. His attire, an impeccably tailored dark silk ensemble, was covered by a wide green kimono, supple yet heavy, its flared sleeves completely concealing his hands.
A smile hovered on his lips. The kind of relaxed expression that belongs only to those who stopped fearing for their lives a long time ago.
"Good day to you all. My name is Steve. Section Chief of the elemental magic division. I will be your executioner for today's admission tests. Follow me."
The group set off in nervous silence. Eighteen candidates. They stepped onto the monumental skybridge connecting the city to the Academy. Beneath the arch of pale rock, the void dropped away for hundreds of meters. Davin felt a powerful updraft rising from the abyss, heavy with the raw scent of minerals and ozone.
Barely off the bridge, Steve stopped dead in his tracks.
"Here we are." "Here? But we haven't even crossed the gates!" exclaimed a candidate, stiff in a silk doublet stretched tight by fear.
Steve smiled wider, his teeth gleaming like pearls in the daylight.
"The test is simple. Walk to the gate. That's it. The mana is dense on this path. The atmospheric pressure increases with every step. If you reach the threshold, you might have a place among us. If not... go home, or come back when your body can handle it."
He took a few fluid steps, almost gliding over the cobblestones, and stopped halfway to the great gate.
"If you reach me, you pass. Even ten centimeters short is a failure."
The first ones set off. A man and a woman, civilians without a trace of magic. At first, their stride was normal. Then, after a few meters, their faces turned purple. Their shoulders slumped brutally, as if sacks of anvils had just been strapped to their backs. They reached Steve practically crawling, muscles seizing up, sweat flooding the collars of their travel clothes.
Steve motioned to the next group. Davin stepped forward with seven other candidates.
He clenched his jaw, expecting to hit an invisible wall. But his expression remained stony for an entirely different reason: he felt absolutely nothing. Around him, the air was just a mist barely thicker than usual. A ridiculously trivial atmospheric resistance.
The contrast around him was brutal. To his left, a man in scraped leather ground his teeth hard enough to crack enamel, the veins in his neck bulging. To his right, a young woman in a grey linen tunic trudged forward with a hunched back, crushed as if carrying a slaughtered ox on her shoulders. Her soles clacked heavily against the stone with every step torn away from gravity.
Davin, however, walked with his hands in his pockets, his gait as relaxed as if he were walking home from a day at the office back on Earth.
He passed Steve with an even pace. The instructor didn't flinch, but gave him a slight nod, a brief flash of curiosity piercing his frozen smile. Davin reached the great gates of the Academy without slowing down for a single second.
He stopped and turned around.
The other candidates, still bogged down halfway, looked up at him. Their eyes widened in stupor, laced with a hint of visceral resentment.
"He's an Adept..." gasped one of them, his face flushed, practically spitting the words.
That's right. Keep coughing up your lungs while I watch.
Among the seven others who had started with him, only three managed to drag themselves to Steve's boots. The rest had collapsed, their cheeks pressed against the rock, or had given up before their hearts gave out.
Then came the final group. Five candidates in threadbare travel clothes. Only one passed.
Out of the starting eighteen, only eight were still standing.
Steve turned to the survivors gathered near the great gate. He mechanically smoothed the green silk of his sleeve, his gaze sweeping with indifference over the bodies splayed on the cobblestones.
"Eight people out of eighteen. That's a good ratio."
He shooed the failures away with a vague wave of his hand, paying absolutely no mind to their tears or their impotent rage.
"Unfortunately, you ten who didn't cross the line are no longer permitted to remain on these grounds. Leave. The gates of Aethelgard will not open for you today."
He shifted his attention back to Davin's group, his smile reasserting itself.
"Welcome to the Aethelgard Academy. Follow me for the paperwork."