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The vast, open area prepared for the practical exams resembled a festival ground. The enormous grassy field was enclosed by towering stone walls, and the enchanted light poles stretching toward the sky reflected the daylight, casting a mystical aura over the place. Students exchanged nervous, excited glances as they waited for the exam to begin. Some were flipping through their spellbooks one last time, while others gripped their wands tightly, their fingers trembling slightly.
At the back of the examination area, massive banners fluttered in the gentle breeze, bearing the pride of the academy. The emblem, woven with golden threads, shimmered under the sunlight, a reminder of the prestige of the world's most elite magic-training school. The stands were filled with important figures: senior professors of the academy, respected names from the magical world, and even some of the country's most powerful heroes had gathered to witness this special day.
Among them were figures who scrutinized the students as if they were lab experiments. Some frowned, assessing the potential of the young mage candidates, while others hastily scribbled notes in their journals.
A middle-aged man emerged from the crowd and approached the students. His eyes were sharp and analytical, like a hawk's. The wrinkles on his forehead betrayed years of experience. He glanced at the students lined up before him, but the indifference in his gaze made it seem as though he saw them as mere insects.
Just then, his attention was diverted by a white-haired woman approaching him with graceful steps.
"It's been a long time, Alfia."
The man eyed the young woman sitting beside him from the corner of his eye. Her white hair danced in the breeze, cascading over her shoulders like a silver waterfall. She bowed her head slightly in greeting, and her yellow eyes gleamed with an otherworldly radiance.
"Headmaster Herald. I didn't expect to see you here."
"Attending such mundane affairs isn't really my style," the old mage replied, his voice deep and serious. "But this year's participants... intrigued me personally."
Alfia smiled faintly. "Ah, yes. There are some exceptionally strong children this year. I've had the chance to meet a few—Sofia Lyons and Arnold Turner... you already know which clans they come from."
She subtly pointed at two students in the crowd, though Headmaster Herald didn't need her indication to recognize them. His sensitivity to mana was far beyond that of an ordinary mage.
"Yes. I know Sofia, Hector's daughter," Herald said, a faint smirk on his lips. "Hector must still be in the Mana Seed, which is why he couldn't come. And the other one... Minerva Turner's son?"
"Yes, sir."
"I see. These children are indeed interesting... but I didn't come here just for them."
Alfia raised an eyebrow in curiosity and followed the Headmaster's gaze.
A little farther from the stands, a girl sitting alone stood out. Her bright red hair blazed like fire under the sun, and her green eyes scanned the surroundings with a deep, inscrutable expression. Unlike the other students mingling, she seemed lost in her own world. It was as if mana itself danced around her, weaving a protective shield just for her.
Alfia thought to herself, *"Truly mesmerizing..."* But she didn't recall seeing this girl on the participant list.
"Hey. How's it going?"
A cheerful laugh instantly shattered Alfia's deep contemplation. The voice cut through the heavy atmosphere like sunlight tearing through clouds.
A black-haired woman in a dark blue robe appeared, descending from a nearby tower. With every step, the fabric of her robe swayed in the wind, leaving behind a trailing shadow. Her sharp gaze swept over the surroundings, almost creating a physical weight. Her violet eyes—deep and enchanting, like two amethysts glowing at night—locked onto Herald.
"Oh my, Herald! Long time no see!" she called out, a mischievous smile on her lips. "How's life at the academy? Still intimidating students with that terrifying glare of yours?"
Herald raised an eyebrow slightly as he looked at her. "Ah, Pheniyet. Didn't expect to see you here. After all this time... especially."
Pheniyet approached him with a bright grin. She playfully tugged at the hem of his robe—as if deliberately trying to break his stern demeanor. Her confident posture exuded a powerful, magnetic charm.
"What's wrong, not happy to see your old friend?" she teased. "You've always been like this. It's nice to see some things never change."
Herald narrowed his eyes at her. "Likewise, Pheniyet. So, why did the Council send you? I expected someone else."
Pheniyet shrugged lightly. "Ah, yes, that was the plan. But at the last minute... we decided to change the exam format because of a certain someone."
Herald's eyes rolled sharply. His expression seemed to say, *"Again?"* He leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath, trying to shift the topic.
"Let's just... focus on completing the exam at hand."
"Oh come on, it's not my fault this time!"
Pheniyet giggled at Herald's discomfort, her voice echoing faintly as her bright violet eyes fixed on the arena. With a graceful wave of her hand, she added, "Don't worry, the usual fun will still be with us."
As she settled into the seat beside him, she adjusted the luxurious fur draped over her shoulders. The silky fabric slid under her fingers as she shot Herald a sidelong glance. "So, what did the Council finally decide? How will the test go?" Herald asked, frowning.
Pheniyet tilted her head slightly, raising her eyebrows in mock surprise. "You really don't know?"
Herald's eyes flicked to her in disbelief. "Why would I know what this ridiculous test is about? They never tell me anything useful!" he grumbled, gripping the arms of his chair. "I'm just here to observe, like everyone else. Damn it, what's the point of being a headmaster? I should've just taken a job at one of the major clans!"
Pheniyet clapped her hands in amusement. "This year, we're using the usual method—a battle royale system! We'll place the students in a magically created environment, and those who make it into the rankings will be considered winners."
Alfia suddenly interjected, her eyes wide. "So only 100 out of 500 students will pass?"
"Yes, you could say that, Miss Alfia," Pheniyet replied with a slight nod. "Additionally, the ranking among the final 100 will also be influenced by our personal evaluations."
Herald muttered in a tired voice, "So favoritism is still a thing."
Of course it was. If the representatives of the major clans weren't given high scores, the Council would be in trouble. And if the Council faltered, the academy would shake. The academy was already balancing on a fragile equilibrium under the watchful eyes of the great clan leaders. One wrong move could bring everything crashing down.
"Whatever, it's none of my concern," Herald muttered, rolling his eyes. "I'm only here because of my expertise. As a master mage, I'm needed to open the field."
Alfia looked at him in surprise. Opening a field required the skill of a master mage—something even Alfia hadn't fully mastered, as it demanded extremely complex mana manipulation. Though she tried to hide it, curiosity stirred within her: *How would he do it?*
Then her gaze fell on the black-haired boy standing alone at the edge of the arena. Her expression shifted with concern. Her lips moved slightly:
"I hope you succeed, Kaelen..."
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