The paperwork left faint smudges of ink on Oswald’s fingertips. He rubbed them together absently, glancing over the final form before handing it in. Just one more step.

  Afterwards, he asked Selene to watch over Vivi, before making his way toward the testing chamber. At the end of the corridor stood a heavy oak door, iron-braced and slightly worn at the edges. He pushed it open and stepped inside.

  The room was lit by lanterns set into alcoves along the stone walls. Their light shimmered across the surface of a crystal orb resting at the center of the chamber. About the size of a watermelon. It sat upon a metal pedestal, etched with unfamiliar runes that pulsed faintly with magic.

  A man stood beside the orb, motionless. His arms were folded neatly across his chest, and the lines of his dark-blue uniform were so crisp they could’ve been cut from paper. Black hair, framed a face carved with sharp edges. White gloves covered his hands, each marked with strange sigils. He's probably the instructor.

  The man’s eyes settled on Oswald, dissecting him in a glance. “You’re Oswald, right? There are a few others taking the aptitude test today, so you’ll have to wait.”

  Oswald gave a brisk nod and stepped back toward the wall. “That’s all fine with me.”

  While waiting, however, he couldn't help but stare at the big crystal orb. Wonder what this thing actually does. Doesn’t look like something you just poke at for fun.

  The ticking of a distant wall clock filled the silence. . Oswald shifted his weight from one foot to the other, eyes flicking toward the heavy door.

  Then, at last, it groaned open with a long creak. The first figure through was a man whose gait was relaxed but heavy, like someone used to trudging through battlefield after battlefield. Scratches and dents marred his armor A broadsword hung at his hip, its worn hilt wrapped in faded cloth. No way that guy’s a fresh recruit. Mercenary for sure. Maybe retired? Or just in between jobs?

  Right behind him, a woman swept into the room with the poise of someone convinced the world revolved around her. Her robes were a deep blue, trimmed with silver thread.. She held her chin high, eyes barely glancing at anyone else as though the very act of acknowledging them would be a waste of breath. Sheesh, hope I don’t get stuck next to her.

  Once everyone was settled, the instructor stepped in front of all of them. “Line up, all of you.”

  Oswald pushed off the wall and fell in place beside the others. Once they were set, the instructor crossed his arms again. "I’m Holt. B-rank adventurer. I’ll be your instructor for today’s aptitude test."

  A bark of laughter broke the moment as the mercenary shook his head. "Didn’t think they let retired adventurers run tests."

  The mage sighed dramatically, inspecting her nails. "Honestly. I had expected at least an A-rank. Do they truly let just anyone handle these tests now?"

  Oswald rolled his eyes. These people suck. Already acting like they own the place.

  Then, came the faint, dry sound of pencil on paper. …Huh?

  He saw Holt writing across a small notepad using a small pencil. In a few seconds, he quickly slipped the pencil into a loop in his sleeve and folded the notepad shut, tucking it neatly back into his coat.

  No expression touched his face when he spoke. “Lucy Goldmere. Varus, son of Jenik. Your behavior has been marked and will be considered toward your aptitude test results.”

  Varus let out a short laugh. "Oh no, what a tragedy. Gonna fail me for having an opinion?"

  "No. But you should know that the Astral Wing Guild is the largest and most recognized guild on the continent. Should anyone be blacklisted from Astral Wing, they will be unable to find adventuring work within our ranks or any of our over 300 partnered guilds."

  "Tch. Big talk for a B-ranker."

  By this point, Oswald had heard enough. “Shut up already. You’re wastin’ everyone’s time.”

  Varus turned, slowly, eyes narrowing as he sized Oswald up. “Oh yeah? You got somethin’ to say to me, kid? We can take this outside.”

  “Yeah, I got somethin’ to say, I’ve seen plenty like you. Usually blackout drunk in the back of some bar, talkin’ about ‘back in the day’ when you actually had work worth braggin’ about."

  "Oh yea? I'll show ya what for you piece of—"

  Varus swung his fist before he finished speaking. But before he could land a hit, a bolt of lightning slammed into the stone floor between them.

  The impact sent a sharp, electrified gust whipping past Oswald’s face, the energy tingling against his skin. The mercenary staggered back, his furious glare snapping to the source.

  Smoke curled from Holt's fingertips as he lowered his hand, the last wisps of lightning flickering out. “Fighting between examinees is strictly prohibited. If you want to keep causing problems, you can leave.”

  Varus let out a sharp tch, his jaw tight as his fists clenched at his sides. His eyes flicked to Oswald. “You got lucky.”

  “Calm down, you ain't all that." Oswald said.

  Varus’s nostrils flared. His fingers twitched again, but this time, he held himself back. Though it was clear to anyone that the mercenary still had plenty of resentment to spare.

  Holt let the silence settle for a few moments before speaking again. "Now. Are we finally ready for the aptitude test?"

  Silence stretched across the chamber. No one spoke.

  "Good." Holt said.

  He gestured toward the crystalline orb. "The first part of this test will determine your mana core’s strength. This orb will measure your mana output and display a number between one and forty. The brighter the glow, the higher the number that will be displayed on the orb."

  Oswald eyed the orb. So this thing measures mana cores? That's kinda neat.

  Holt stepped forward, placing both gloved hands atop the orb. “To activate it, simply channel mana as you normally would while maintaining physical contact.”

  Soon, a faint hum resonated through the chamber. Light swelled from within the orb, growing in intensity until it reached a steady brilliance.

  A golden number 24 shimmered at the center of the orb’s surface. Afterwards, Holt withdrew his hands, the glow receding as the energy settled back into dormancy. “Twenty four is the baseline for a B-rank adventurer. And for reference, to qualify as an A-rank, you'd need a score of thirty or higher."

  Holt’s gaze slid to the next participant. “Varus, you’re up first.”

  The mercenary smirked as he approached the arb. "Watch and learn," he said, placing his hands on the orb with exaggerated confidence.

  The silence that followed dragged on longer than expected. Then, a number formed… 4.

  The room remained still for half a breath. Varus let out a sharp scoff. "This thing’s busted."

  “Bullshit, no chance my score’s just a four.” Varus snarled.

  “The orb was audited by the Loria Central Guild Authority last month. It also underwent routine maintenance just last week. Error is not a possibility,” Holt stated flatly.

  The mercenary's boots scraped harshly against the stone floor as he stepped forward. He seized Holt’s collar in a clenched fist, knuckles whitening. “You messin’ with me, old man?”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Oswald tensed, instinctively leaning back a half-step. Bad move, buddy.

  Holt’s expression didn’t shift. Not a single crease of his uniform wrinkled under the mercenary’s grip. He raised a single hand and pressed two fingers against Varus’s forearm.

  A sharp crack tore through the silence. Sparks erupted from the point of contact, thin veins of white-blue lightning that danced along Varus’s arm like snapping serpents. The mercenary’s eyes went wide, a strangled gasp forcing its way out as his body convulsed.

  He dropped to one knee, trembling. Oswald wasn't sure what Varus was thinking, but he was glad that he got to see what he did. Damn, that was cool. Wish I could use lightning magic like that.

  Holt calmly brushed down the front of his coat, smoothing out the slightest crease. Then his gaze dropped to the kneeling figure before him. “Attempt that again, and this test will be the least of your concerns.”

  Varus stared up at him, the fire drained from his eyes. He swallowed hard, breath ragged, then spat a quiet curse under his breath and staggered to his feet. He didn’t speak again—just backed away, his posture smaller now, his presence subdued.

  Holt didn’t spare him a second glance. “Lucy, you’re next.”

  The prideful mage nodded, then stepped forward. She appeared quite confident as she placed both of her hands on the orb.

  Oswald watched, curiosity flickering in the back of his mind. If she’s as good as she acts, she’s gotta have a high number… right?

  A steady glow pulsed from the crystal, swirling with an almost silver hue. The air around her thickened with energy. A moment later, the number 9 shimmered across the orb’s surface.

  Oswald watched as Holt calmly noted it down in his ledger. "A decent score for a mage starting out."

  Lucy looked like she was in pure disbelief. She stared at the glowing number nine as if it had personally insulted her. “That can’t be right, this thing must be broken!”

  “The orb is functioning properly. Your result is final.” Holt said.

  “And I am telling you there must be some mistake. A score of seven is entirely inaccurate. I studied at Loria Royal Mage Academy. Therefore, I have studied arcane theory, elemental manipulation, and combat application under some of the most—"

  Holt coughed loudly, interrupting her.. “With all due respect, a one-week public course that accepts anyone with coin isn’t exactly elite training.”

  Color flushed across Lucy’s cheeks, rising quickly to her ears. Her mouth opened, then shut again. Her fingers twitched where they rested on her arms, as if her pride itself had been struck.

  She looked ready to retort, but no words surfaced. Instead, she released a sharp exhale through her nose and stepped aside, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

  Yet, before Lucy could stew too long in her humiliation, Holt turned his head. "Oswald, you are next."

  Okay, here it goes. Oswald thought to himself as he stepped up to the orb. As he approached, the faint residual glow of Lucy’s energy had already faded, leaving it blank once more.

  He pressed his palms against the orb. Wonder what score I’ll get?

  Oswald closed his eyes as he let his mana flow. He didn’t force it, just let it move naturally, coursing through his veins, spreading through his arms before seeping into the orb beneath his palms.

  The orb trembled beneath his touch, its glow swelling fast. Unlike the flickering, hesitant light of the others, this wasn’t a spark catching flame. This was an explosion.

  A brilliant roar of golden light erupted from the orb, illuminating the room with a searing intensity. The number 18 burned across its surface.

  Oswald blinked at it. That's… way higher than everyone else's.

  Holt’s gaze lingered on the number before shifting to Oswald. Something flickered in his expression, measured interest, maybe even satisfaction. “Impressive, I expected nothing less from a disciple of Selene Whiteheart. A score of eighteen is closer in line with what the guild would expect from C-rank adventurers."

  Oswald let out a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well… thanks.”

  He stepped away from the orb, walking towards the others. Lucy was staring at him, utterly dumbfounded. Her mouth hung slightly open, like she was trying to process something that refused to make sense. Guess she wasn’t expectin’ that one.

  Varus, on the other hand, was a different story. His fists clenched at his sides with barely restrained irritation. His whole stance screamed frustration, but Oswald could see it for what it was. He was pissed. Heh. Didn’t like that, huh?

  ***

  For the next part of the aptitude test, Holt led the examinees into a massive underground arena. At the center stood a golem, and it was unlike anything Oswald had ever seen.

  Its hulking body was carved entirely from translucent crystal, which was somehow shaped like a fully armored knight, from the curve of its pauldrons to the gauntlets that wrapped around its massive fists.

  What did the guild use to make that thing? And how’d they even shape it like that? Must’ve cost a fortune.

  Holt turned to face the examinees, arms crossing over his chest. "This is the second and final part of the aptitude test, the combat exam. Your objective is to inflict as much damage as possible on the golem."

  He walked toward the towering construct. With a flick of his wrist, a burst of force exploded from his palm, slamming into the golem’s core. The impact rippled through the crystalline surface, sending a faint tremor through the ground.

  A section of the golem’s torso flared crimson. Over time, the glow shifted from red to yellow, then yellow to green, before fading entirely, leaving the crystal unchanged once more.

  "When the golem is struck, the affected area will light up. The deeper the red, the more damage inflicted. Your starting positions are up to you. Ranged fighters can keep their distance if they prefer. However, the golem is more resistant to both physical and magical projectiles. This is in order to make the test more balanced between melee fighters and those who fight at a range."

  Oswald’s eyes flicked back to the golem, watching how the torchlight fractured against its crystalline surface. The way it shimmered, almost alive, only made it clearer. Gotta hit hard enough to matter, or hit the thing in the right places.

  “Lucy, you’re up first.” Holt announced.

  The mage smirked, flipping her hair over one shoulder as she stepped forward. “Gladly.”

  She strode across the arena with purpose, coming to a stop far from the golem, well out of its immediate range. She’s keepin’ her distance… makes sense. Prob’ly how mages fight best, stayin' far away from the enemy.

  Holt gave a curt nod. “We’ll begin… now."

  A pulse of energy surged through the chamber as the golem flared to life. With a deep, grinding shift, the crystalline construct groaned as it took its first step, and then another.

  In response, Lucy lifted both hands and inhaled deeply. A faint shimmer of heat radiated from her fingertips, distorting the space around them.

  "Ancient flames, heed my call! By the will of fire, I command thee: blazing sphere!"

  Heat rippled through the air, swirling around her as sparks crackled at her fingertips. A fiery glow erupted from her palms, coalescing into a blazing orb that pulsed like a miniature sun. With a dramatic sweep of her arm, she hurled the fireball toward the golem.

  The burning projectile streaked across the arena, slamming into the golem’s torso with a bright explosion of embers. A wave of heat rolled outward, forcing some of the examinees to instinctively shield their faces.

  Oswald squinted through the fading firelight. Alright, decent impact.

  But as the glow dispersed, the golem remained unfazed. A faint shimmer of red pulsed across its crystalline surface, but it quickly faded into green, like a shallow scratch healing over in seconds.

  Lucy’s smile stiffened. Oswald resisted the urge to snort. Guess that ain’t as impressive as she thought.

  But the mage wasn't done yet. She planted her feet, straightened her back, and extended her arms again.

  "O great spirits of unyielding embers, let your scorching wrath lay waste to my enemies! By the smoldering breath of dragon's past, unleash, Infernal Pillar!"

  Oswald blinked. Damn. That’s a lotta words just to throw fire.

  A roaring column of flame erupted from her hands, spiraling toward the golem like a wildfire unleashed. Heat rushed forward in waves, licking at the floor as the inferno surged toward its target.

  Fire swallowed the golem whole, burning bright as if it had been encased in molten gold. But the moment the flames died down, the construct remained unharmed.

  A flicker of orange pulsed across its torso before fading into yellow. Seeing this, Lucy’s confidence wavered.

  Oswald rubbed his chin. Ain’t lookin’ good for her.

  Still, she wasn’t willing to admit defeat. She sucked in a breath, lifting her hands once more, her voice taking on an even grander cadence.

  "O celestial flames of eternal judgment—"

  The golem took a step forward. Lucy's voice wavered. "B—by the decree of the—"

  The golem was right in front of her now, its massive form casting an imposing shadow. Lucy stopped chanting, she was afraid.

  The construct raised its arm. Lucy froze completely.

  Just as the golem’s massive fist swung downward, a sudden pulse shot through the chamber, and the construct locked in place. Its entire body glowed for a moment before dimming completely.

  Holt lowered his hand as he turned toward Lucy. "That’s enough."

  Lucy staggered back, her breath coming in short gasps. "Wait! I can still—"

  "Your mana core is potent, but you lack practical application. Chanting excessively leaves you vulnerable, and your spells, while flashy, lack the force necessary to make a real impact. I will be assigning you an EE rank."

  Lucy’s face burned red, her fists clenching at her sides. She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut, exhaling through her nose before stomping back to the rest of the examinees.

  Oswald watched the whole thing unfold, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from chuckling. Really thought she’d do better than that.

  Holt barely spared Lucy another glance before shifting his attention back to the group. "Oswald. You're going next."