The Admission Exam - Physical Test (4)

The crowd in the stands murmured louder and louder, waiting for the clash to resume, while the fighters had stopped at opposite sides of the arena for no apparent reason.

On one side stood Jun, motionless at one end of the battlefield, his spear firmly gripped in his left hand and a cigar dangling from his lips.

On the opposite side of the arena, Mirac and Carmen were whispering quietly to each other, their faces tense but their eyes constantly fixed on their opponent.

Faced with that scene, Jun immediately understood that they were probably plotting something, but he didn't take a single step to interrupt them.

He was in no hurry to act.

In fact, he was curious to see what strategy they would come up with.

'They're agile, intelligent, and perfectly coordinated with each other…' thought Jun, letting a faint smile slip across his lips. 'Heh, I'm really having fun! I made a great choice by deciding to face them…'

As he formed that thought, the smoke from his cigar twisted in the air, creating gray spirals that dissolved into the warm light of the arena.

Almost a minute later, Mirac and Carmen—after that quick exchange of words that Jun couldn't hear because of the distance separating them—took their stance again, their swords gripped with determination.

Jun tilted his head, a sly smile rippling across his face.

"Well… Shall we continue where we left off?" he asked, his voice low and charged with challenge, as the cigar slowly burned between his lips.

Mirac and Carmen didn't waste time answering.

Without words, they both lunged forward: Carmen from the left, Mirac from the right, like two claws ready to close in on Jun from both sides.

Their boots bit into the arena's dust, each step quick and decisive, swords already raised for a frontal attack.

Jun, seeing the converging assault, immediately understood the danger and prepared to counterattack.

He took a deep breath, the cigar between his lips glowing orange as the tobacco burned.

Then, with a slow, deliberate gesture, he removed the cigar from his lips, gripping his weapon firmly with the other hand.

Next, with a powerful breath, he unleashed a fiery roar: a vast wave of flames burst from his mouth, overwhelming like the breath of an enraged dragon.

The fire spread in all directions, a scorching wall that devoured the very air, making the atmosphere tremble with its heat.

In the stands, the spectators held their breath, while the arena's dust swirled in fiery whirlwinds.

Carmen, with reflexes honed by years of training, reacted immediately.

She bent her knees and leapt backward, her body arching gracefully through the air to avoid the wave of fire.

Mirac too, recognizing the danger, leapt backward, dodging the flames with an equally swift move.

Both landed at a safe distance, swords still tightly gripped, ready for the next move.

Although he had already pushed back the two approaching swordsmen, Jun let his fiery roar continue for a few more seconds, just to make sure he had driven away the threat.

Then, when he deemed it sufficient, he suddenly stopped blowing, interrupting the fiery flow.

The tongues of flame, left unsupported, began to fade, retreating quickly like a wave pulling back from the shore.

But then, in that brief moment when it seemed the danger had been averted, Mirac emerged from the still-fading flames, sliding like a living shadow just a breath away from Jun, closing the vast distance between them in an instant.

'What the-?!' The President of the Association was caught off guard. 'He powered up his legs to launch an explosive dash and reach me in a flash?' Jun wondered, surprised by the young man's speed.

And indeed, he had sensed it correctly: while his flames were still blazing, the boy had enhanced his legs with Mana, his muscles tense and pulsing with energy. He had charged them up until the very last moment, like a compressed spring.

Moreover, from the President's previous fire attack, Mirac had noticed a crucial detail: the moment Jun had stopped the fiery roar, the temperature of the flames had dropped drastically.

He had realized it only thanks to his skill, "Instant Knowledge of Temperature," and from that simple observation he deduced that, by shielding his body with a thin layer of Mana, he would be able to cross the wall of fire precisely during that moment of transition.

After all, Grand Knight Leonard had explained in one of the first lessons that magical fire is not constant like natural fire: since it is fueled by Mana, its intensity fluctuates depending on the concentration and control of the user.

When a pyromancer interrupts the flow of Mana, or it becomes unstable for any other reason—even if only for the blink of an eye—the temperature of the magical fire drops sharply before completely dissipating, creating a moment of vulnerability.

Thus, as the blazing barrier receded, Mirac lunged forward with explosive speed, his body wrapped in a thin layer of Mana that protected him from the remnants of the dying flames, cutting through the final flickers of flame and closing in on Jun with his sword already poised for a direct thrust to the chest.

Jun hadn't expected such an immediate attack, launched while the flames were still visible, before they had fully dissipated.

He was caught unprepared at the very moment he thought the enemy's offensive was over.

And so, when Mirac thrust forward—accompanied by a twisting motion of the wrist, almost as if to suggest that the attack had in fact a second purpose—Jun dodged it by a hair's breadth with a sideways leap, then deflected the blade with the shaft of his spear.

It was a purely instinctive move, made possible only by the experience forged through years of battles.

'Damn!' Mirac thought in that split second. 'I was so close…'

Meanwhile, Jun planted his feet firmly and prepared a counterattack with the speed of a veteran.

Without wasting time, he turned toward Mirac, the muscles in his arms tightening as he extended the spear in a precise thrust, the tip aiming for the young man's abdomen.

The movement was so fast the spear seemed to vanish for a moment.

With a flick of his sword, however, Mirac managed to parry the blow, the blade intercepting the enemy's spear at a perfect angle, deflecting its trajectory.

Jun's spear tip, instead of hitting the boy, rose toward the sky in an elegant curve.

The young swordsman seized the moment, bending his knees to prepare a counterattack, breathing short but controlled.

Meanwhile, Carmen was running closer, her steps light and silent, like those of a ninja.

Jun, sensing her from the corner of his eye, channeled Mana into his body, an energy that seemed to pulse beneath his skin.

With a swift movement, he rotated the spear and struck Mirac again in the abdomen with the blunt side—a sharp, destabilizing blow that made the young man stagger.

Immediately after, Jun channeled Mana into his legs, his muscles swelling with power, and delivered a backward kick, again aiming for Mirac's abdomen.

The strike was like thunder, the force hurling Mirac several meters away.

The young man landed with a thud, rolling in the dust, breath knocked out but eyes still full of determination.

"D-Damn!" exclaimed Mirac.

Luckily, he had managed to defend himself from both blows by focusing his Mana in his abdomen.

However, a dull ache continued to throb beneath his skin, a sign that Mana alone had not been enough to cushion the impact of those heavy strikes.

After hurling Mirac away, Jun immediately turned to face Carmen, who was now just a few steps away from reaching him.

He took a deep breath, savoring the acrid smell of the cigar, the smoke wrapping around his face like a veil.

He channeled Mana into the spear's blade, and suddenly the tip of the weapon ignited, flames dancing along the metal like blazing serpents.

Without hesitation, Carmen struck with her sword—a quick, precise slash aimed at Jun's side.

He parried with the spear, the fiery blade tracing an arc of fire through the air.

But Carmen was undeterred.

She dodged the fiery arc with a fluid movement, her body bending sideways, and counterattacked with a thrust toward Jun's chest.

The deadly dance continued: sword against spear, steel against fire. Each strike sparked an explosion of sparks, each parry sang a metallic tune.

Despite the age difference and the advantage of the spear, neither seemed to gain the upper hand; their movements were so fast they appeared like a perfect choreography.

But at one point, Carmen changed strategy.

With a series of agile, precise backward somersaults, she distanced herself from Jun, landing beside Mirac, who had just gotten up with a grunt.

Jun, confused by the sudden retreat, exhaled a cloud of smoke from his cigar, his eyes scrutinizing the two challengers with a mix of curiosity and caution.

Carmen, her red hair falling over her face, slightly turned toward Mirac and nodded. Mirac, understanding the signal, nodded back—a silent understanding that didn't escape Jun's notice.

Then, the masked boy suddenly lunged at Jun, with Carmen closely following right behind him.

They ran without powering up with Mana, seemingly vulnerable—a choice that made Jun raise an eyebrow.

Exhaling one last puff of smoke, he readied his spear, the fiery tip poised to strike.

But just when he least expected it, Mirac tilted his head to the side with a quick motion, and from behind him, Carmen threw her dagger with impressive speed.

The blade streaked through the air, a silver flash aimed straight at Jun's face.

'Wh-?!' Jun thought, shocked.

Yet his reflexes saved him once again: instinctively, Jun tilted his head aside, mirroring Mirac's movement, and the dagger grazed his cheek, cutting a lock of hair.

'Did she position herself behind him to get the boy's dagger and then throw it at me?' he wondered, recalling how Carmen had already thrown her own knife moments before, while suspended in the air, embedding it in the ground.

But Jun had no time to think further.

Mirac, powering his legs again with Mana, made an explosive dash similar to before: muscles coiled like springs propelled him face-to-face with Jun in a fraction of a second.

Jun reacted with a thrust of his spear, the blade tracing a trail of fire through the air.

Mirac, however, dodged it with a somersault over his opponent, his body twisting in the air with acrobatic grace.

In the brief instant when he was suspended above Jun's head, he performed a move of pure mastery: gripping the sword with his only hand—the right one—he momentarily locked it under his left armpit, where the amputated arm was nothing but a stump.

With that quick and precise motion, he freed his right hand and grabbed a dagger hidden behind his back.

Then, he infused his right arm with Mana, his muscles contracting in an explosive surge, and hurled the dagger with such brutal speed that Jun didn't even have time to react.

"Another dagger?!" was the only thought that crossed his mind, but his body remained petrified.

There was no step back, no attempt to dodge the strike: the movement was too fast and unpredictable!

The dagger's blade cleanly severed the cigar hanging from his lips, grazing his nose and chin before finally plunging into the ground, quivering from the impact.

The severed piece fell to the ground, while Jun, stunned, let the remaining part drop from his mouth as well, his jaw slightly agape in disbelief.

At the same instant Mirac had leapt, Carmen had moved.

She had already compressed her legs like coiled springs, enhancing them with Mana, and at the right moment she lunged forward with a sudden leap.

During her advance, she channeled the energy from her legs into the blade of her sword, which shone with a vibrant aura.

With a sharp, precise strike, she severed the metal tip of Jun's spear, cutting it cleanly in two.

Right then, Mirac landed behind him, swiftly reclaiming the sword from under his armpit and gripping it once again with his right hand.

Carmen, her body still leaning forward from the strike, positioned herself at his side, ready to react.

Matching the rhythm of the red-haired woman's attack, Mirac rose and turned swiftly, his sword darting toward the right side of Jun's neck.

And while the man was still stunned by the perfect synchrony of their movements, Carmen brought her blade to the left side of Jun's neck, completing the maneuver with lethal precision.

Jun thus found himself immobilized, the blades of his two challengers just inches from either side of his throat, the metal glinting menacingly.

The spear's blade had detached and fallen to the ground, where the magical fire that had enveloped it had instantly extinguished.

Jun stood there, still in shock, the shaft of the spear clutched tightly in his hands, while the severed cigar lay on the ground beside the blade of his weapon.

His breathing was steady, despite the situation.

Even the stands had fallen into complete silence.

The spectators were holding their breath, eyes wide open, unable to fully process what they had just witnessed.

The same was true for Jun.

Events had unfolded too quickly, leaving him dazed for a few seconds.

Still staring straight ahead, his mind returned to that first dagger that had grazed his face.

'Where did that other dagger come from?' Jun gritted his teeth, trying to figure out how Mirac had gotten hold of the knife that had cut his cigar.

It was impossible that they had started the fight with three daggers—especially considering that each contestant was allowed to carry only two weapons, or one weapon and one piece of armor.

Yet, at first, breaking this rule seemed the only plausible explanation.

But then, noticing in the distance a small crack in the ground behind Carmen, Jun understood the trick.

That woman had never retrieved Mirac's dagger: when she had retreated with those agile somersaults, she must have picked up her own knife—the same one she had thrown earlier to force Jun to stop his first roar of fire and fall back—keeping it hidden behind her until that moment.

Thus, by throwing it from behind Mirac while running after him, she had led him to believe it was the boy's dagger, and that there would be no others.

'Good job…' Jun murmured to himself, almost amused by that subtle cunning.

Suddenly, a smile crossed his face, a mix of surprise and respect, turning his initially shocked expression into one more amused.

"Heh…" The man was about to laugh, but then, remembering the formalities, he cleared his throat and declared firmly: "Test concluded."

His voice, though calm, was laden with admiration.

At those words, the arena erupted in a roar of cheers, the stands coming alive like a stormy sea.

Blake shot to his feet, his chest swelling with emotion, his face radiating disbelief and joy.

"Amazing! Great job, guys!" he shouted with glee, his voice echoing over the thunderous applause and cries of enthusiasm.

Mirac, exhausted, lowered his sword and collapsed to the ground, sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him, his chest heaving rapidly.

"D-Did we do it?" he panted, his eyes searching for Carmen, who was slowly lowering her weapon from the Association President's neck—her red hair framing her face like an aura of triumph.

But in truth, there was no need to answer that question.

The roar of the crowd, echoing through the arena like thunder, said it all: Mirac and Carmen had won!