Ep.45 Combat Test

A/N: hello everyone abtho here, I just wanted to let you all know I will be testing out a new upload schedule and will be posting three chapters today and 3 more on Friday. This is subject to change in the future but for now expect 5 to 6 new chapters a week with these chapters being posted every Wednesday and Friday. Thank you for understanding and thank you all for reading. I hope you continue to enjoy the novel!

The stone corridor stretched before us, its cold, gray walls sweating with moisture that caught the flickering light of the lanterns that hung overhead. Each step we took echoed with a rhythm that seemed to pulse with anticipation—our collective heartbeats creating a silent symphony of nervous energy.

I studied my companions as we walked. Maya, with her fiery temperament that matched her apparent magical affinity, walked with a confident swagger. Rowan, more reserved, moved with a calculated precision that spoke of careful training. And me? I was trying my best to look like I belonged.

At the corridor's end, a weathered wooden door stood like an ancient sentinel, its surface scarred with countless marks—each groove and splinter telling silent stories of examinations past. The Clerk, her movements as precise as a well-oiled mechanism, opened the door and ushered us through with a gesture that brook no argument.

The room beyond was a stark contrast to the corridor—a massive square chamber that seemed to breathe with an ancient, musty power. Stone blocks lined the walls, each one cut so precisely that not even a whisper of a gap existed between them. Magical runes, so faint they were almost invisible, traced intricate patterns along the mortar lines—a subtle reminder that nothing here was ordinary.

An elevated platform dominated the center of the room, raised like a judge's bench, casting long shadows across the stone floor. And atop this stage stood a man who demanded attention without uttering a single word.

Short dark brown hair framed a face that spoke of many battles and hardships—sharp cheekbones, a jawline that could have been carved from granite, partially obscured by a beard that seemed more a badge of survival than a fashion statement. His clothing was casual, almost deliberately nonchalant—minimal leather padding that provided little protection, a choice that whispered of supreme confidence or absolute recklessness.

The door clicked shut behind us, the sound as final as a prison gate, sealing us into this chamber of judgment.

"Hello everyone," the man announced, his voice a deep resonance that seemed to vibrate through the very stones around us. "I'm Kane Arnston, and I'll be your combat test examiner today." A pause, deliberate and weighted. "The test is straightforward—each of you will engage in a one-on-one duel with me. I'll use my personal grading system to determine your combat class."

A ripple of murmurs swept through our group. One-on-one against this mountain of a man? The tension was so thick you could have carved it with a knife.

Kane continued, his eyes scanning each of us with a predatory intensity, "Before the duels we'll have you all consume mana crystals to replenish your energy from the previous test."

The Clerk began distributing quarter-sized mana crystals, each one glimmering with an inner light of concentrated magical potential. I watched as my fellow examinees eagerly consumed theirs, their faces lighting up with renewed vigor, color returning to cheeks that had been pale with exhaustion.

As expected, when I placed the crystal on my tongue, nothing happened.

The familiar sense of being different washed over me—a sensation as comfortable and uncomfortable as an old wound. Always present, always a reminder of how I didn't quite fit. Where others felt magical energy surge through them, I felt... nothing. Just another mystery in a life full of them.

"I'll now call the first participant," Kane announced, his voice cutting through my thoughts. His eyes locked onto me. "Kai Foster."

My name. Spoken like a challenge.

For a heartbeat, the world seemed to stop.

"You better get at least a D-class," Maya hissed from beside me, her threat a perfect blend of kind affection and pure, unadulterated menace, "or I'm waking you up with fire every morning for the rest of your life."

A nervous laugh bubbled up—memories of past "motivational" wake-up calls flooding my mind.

"I-I'll try my best," I stammered, the words a prayer and a promise.

A weapon rack stood to my right like an arsenal of potential salvation. Dozens of practice weapons hung meticulously organized—each one a potential lifeline in the upcoming test. Wooden practice swords of various lengths, practice staffs with worn grips, balanced daggers, and even a few training spears created a deadly museum of combat potential.

But for me, there was no hesitation.

My hand found a wooden practice sword as if guided by muscle memory. The weight was familiar—comfortable in a way. I haven't gone this many days in a row without holding a sword so the feeling was refreshing.

I gave the sword a couple of practice swings, feeling the balance, listening to the whisper of wood cutting through air. Each movement was deliberate, each adjustment a silent conversation between weapon and wielder.

As I climbed the platform steps, each wooden board creaking beneath my weight, Kane remained a statue of calm at the opposite end. A sword hung down from his right hand which flooded my mind with nervous questioning.

Why would a powerful mage need a physical weapon?

Ms. Vera's lessons echoed in my memory. Some mages specialized in combat enhancement, using their magical power to assist them in the close range combat, this style was generally looked down because people believe the users of this style never use the full potential of their magic. But that's not to say this style did not carry its own set of advantages if used right.

Nervousness crawled up my spine like cold fingers.

The platform felt smaller now. Kane's presence seemed to fill every inch of space, his casual stance more threatening than any aggressive posture could be. I could feel the eyes of my fellow examinees boring into my back—Maya's fierce determination, Rowan's calculated assessment.

"W-what element do you use?" The question escaped my lips before I could stop it, a desperate attempt to break the suffocating silence.

Kane's response was nothing more than a smirk—knowing, slightly cruel, completely unreadable. "You'll just have to find out."

Those five words contained more challenge than most people could pack into an entire speech.

I settled into an attack stance, legs shoulder-width apart, sword held at a slight angle. Everything Ms. Vera had taught me about presenting a strong front ran through my mind. Don't show fear. Look confident, even if you're terrified. In the world of magic and combat, perception could be as powerful as actual skill.

My heart thundered in my ears. Sweat began to form at my hairline. The room's temperature seemed to drop several degrees.

Kane's eyes—steel-gray and utterly emotionless—locked onto me.

"Begin," he said.