The Grand Magus Test

Hurried footsteps echoed through a corridor, each one a sharp reminder of how much still needed to be done.

The footsteps belonged to a man who barely registered the sound. His mind was far too preoccupied, and his body showed clear signs of exhaustion.

As he moved, clipboards levitated around him. With a pen in hand, he scribbled quickly on the one before him, handing it to the assistant trailing behind—who was already weighed down with stacks of papers and documents—before grabbing another. Over and over, he repeated the process.

One clipboard reported incomplete formations. Another flagged a lack of security in the northwest.

This man was the event overseer of the Grand Magus Test. Today was shaping up to be one of the busiest days of his life.

The Grand Magus Test was held every two years, and he had already made the usual preparations.

But yesterday, everything changed.