Episode 8 - The First Trial

Episode 8 - The First Trial

Meanwhile, the sound of wooden swords clashing echoed through the air.

Despite it being a break, two figures were sparring—Amon and Vel, both bearing the weighty names of noble families.

The instructor flipped through the evaluation sheets.

[Vel Red]

Vel exhaled sharply, a puff of steam escaping her lips.

[Possesses the Red family's unique magic.]

"W-Wait, Vel! We agreed not to use that!" Amon protested, waving his hand.

"It's not stylish unless it's a one-hit kill."

As soon as the words left her lips, a powerful strike sliced through the air.

Amon ducked flat to avoid the wooden blade.

Moments later, Vel slumped to the ground, drained.

"Huff..."

[Excels in one-hit kills but limited to a single use.]

The instructor sighed, flipping to the next page.

[Amon Coster]

"How is collapsing like that stylish...?" Amon muttered, catching Vel as she fell unceremoniously.

[Possesses the Coster family's unique magic (has not used it during training).]

[Flawless swordsman.]

[Leading candidate for top rank.]

"Hey, Margo," Amon called out.

Margo glanced up.

"Vel's out again. Want to take over?"

"Sure."

Margo pushed himself up, planting both hands on his knees.

He caught the wooden sword Amon tossed his way with perfect timing.

Approaching the training ground, the two assumed their stances, brimming with focus.

Amon moved first, aiming a thrust at Margo's wrist.

Margo dodged with ease, sweeping Amon's legs and sending him sprawling to the ground.

Amon landed awkwardly, the wooden blade mere inches from his head.

Margo drove the sword's tip into the sand beside him.

"That's one."

"Damn it..."

Amon sprang to his feet, swinging his sword as he charged.

The exchange grew intense, with both sides trading blows.

Then, as Amon raised his arms to block an overhead slash, realization struck him too late.

"Damn it!"

Margo had feinted.

Instead of striking high, he adjusted mid-swing, aiming for the middle.

The tip of the wooden blade tapped Amon square in the chest.

Frozen with his hands above his head, Amon could only grit his teeth.

"That's two."

"What the hell are you doing?"

"You said it yourself," Mago replied. "If that had been an enemy instead of a training dummy, I'd have been dead."

"What?"

"And now you've died twice."

[Mago]

The instructor paused, pen hovering over the page as he deliberated what to write under the name.

After a long hesitation, with ink drying on the nib, he scrawled hurriedly, letting his thoughts flow without restraint.

Mago?

He recalled the words of a soldier who had once brought an application form.

I've seen Mago fight before. Marcello Arnis of the Special Forces—the genius herself. He reminds me a lot of her.

[Perhaps not a spy.]

***

"The first trial will be a race."

In the lecture hall, the head instructor hung a map on the chalkboard.

"This map is only a sample. Don't bother memorizing it; it won't be used in the trial."

A race.

It reminded me of running laps with Amon around the training grounds.

If I went back further, it brought memories of the first trial I took in my previous life.

"Pay close attention," the instructor commanded.

The large map displayed three colors.

One was black, which dominated the map's background.

Another was red, representing a winding path.

"The red line marks Route A."

Clearing his throat, the instructor began his explanation in earnest.

"You all number 100 trainees, split into two groups of 50. Group A will follow the red line, completing a loop around the mountain and returning to the training grounds. Does everyone understand this much?"

The trainees responded in unison with a loud "Yes, sir!"

Nodding in approval, the instructor pointed to the blue line on the map with his newly acquired wooden pointer.

"And the blue line, naturally, is Route B."

The blue path diverged from the red one at a different starting point.

Thus, Route A was red, and Route B was blue. Simple enough.

"Now, here's where the challenge begins."

Pulling out a small scroll with a red ribbon tied around its middle, the instructor continued.

"This scroll contains the map for Group A. And the ones carrying it will be…"

He jabbed his pointer at the blue line.

"Group B."

The trainees erupted into murmurs.

"Quiet down and listen!" the instructor barked. "Each group will hold the map for the opposite team—Group A's map with Group B, and vice versa. How will you navigate a 21-kilometer mountain trail and return to the training grounds? That's for you to figure out."

He tapped an X mark on the map.

"A single checkpoint exists where the two groups' paths cross. At this point, you can exchange, steal, or snatch the map from the other team. How you obtain it is up to you. Once you have the map, follow the route back to the training grounds. Any questions?"

Vel raised his hand high.

"Vel Red."

"Doesn't that mean we just need to return to the training grounds, map or no map?"

"An excellent question, Vel," the instructor praised, jotting down notes on Vell's evaluation sheet, likely a positive remark.

"Instructors will be stationed along each route. Any trainee who strays from the path will be disqualified. Forget about bypassing the map."

Another hand shot up—mine.

"Mago."

"Will all 50 members of a group move as a single unit?"

"Another good question."

The instructor scribbled something else on his sheet, nodding approvingly.

"To answer you directly: no. Each group will split into teams of two."

I already knew this from my past life, but I asked intentionally for the extra evaluation points.

"With 100 trainees in pairs, there will be 50 teams. On that note, I'll now assign the teams."

The instructor pulled out a prepared list.

"Starting with Group A, step forward when your name is called and collect your armband."

Two baskets sat at the front, one filled with red armbands, the other with blue.

As names were called, my thoughts wandered.

My previous life's partner wouldn't be paired with me this time—Kinjo Shua had been too injured to participate before, but now he was in the race, shuffling the pairings.

Finally, my name was called.

"Group A, Mago."

I walked up and tied a red armband around my arm.

"Kinjo Shua."

Kinjo grinned as he stepped forward.

I hadn't expected him to be my partner, but I couldn't complain.

"Now, Group B," the instructor announced, calling names again.

Even Amon and Vel found themselves paired.

"Amon Coster."

"Vel Red."

The two stood confidently and tied blue armbands around their right arms.

Kinjo whispered, "Those two shouldn't be together. Group B's got it rough from the start."

Once all teams were assigned, I raised my hand again.

"Mago, another question?"

"What happens if only one member of a team reaches the finish line?"

"Sharp as ever," the instructor said with a nod.

"If only one member arrives, the team still earns points—provided it's within the time limit."

He tapped his shoulder with his pointer, emphasizing his next words.

"The first team to finish earns 100 points. Second place gets 99, and so on. The points are divided between both members. But if one of you fails to arrive within the time limit, that team gets zero points."

The instructor scanned the room for more questions. None came.

"For emergencies, you'll carry a dagger. However, using it against other trainees is strictly forbidden."

With that clarification, he concluded.

"Let's begin immediately."

***

Three hours before the start of the first test, the A group of trainees had gathered at the parade ground after preparing their gear.

At that point, the paths of A group and B group diverged.

The head instructor led A group directly, while another instructor took charge of B group, escorting them elsewhere.

"Wait here until B group is ready," the head instructor commanded.

The trainees of A group scanned the ground, looking for a spot to sit.

"Keep your bodies warmed up," the instructor added.

There was no mention of resting under the head instructor's watch.

Instead, we found ourselves suddenly subjected to drills.

Push-ups.

As we went down, we shouted, "We are!"

Coming back up, we answered, "One!"

It was only after we were drenched in sweat that the instructor handed out maps—one per team within A group.

Our group received a map tied with a blue string, denoting the B route.

Kinjo was tasked with holding onto it.

Afterward, he leaned closer to me and whispered.

"Mago, remember during the briefing when the head instructor briefly showed us something?

That was supposed to be the map for A group, right? He didn't unfold it, but it's safe to assume it's the real thing."

"Probably?"

"They wouldn't bother creating a fake one they didn't even show us," he reasoned.

"Fair enough. Why does it matter, though?"

"Because I memorized it."

"You... memorized... what?"

"Shh," he hushed me, raising a finger to his lips before tapping the corner of his eye with the same finger.

"I discreetly used my vision magic to commit it to memory. I figured it couldn't hurt to try. Turns out, we lucked out being assigned to A group."

"You memorized the whole thing?"

"Yeah. No one else knows I can use vision magic, let alone that I'd memorize a map."

"Still, there's always the chance it was a decoy."

"True," Kinjo admitted. "But if we encounter instructors along the route, that'll confirm whether my memory's accurate. We can use that to verify as we go."

He leaned back and added, "Let's just aim to get the map first—it's still the easiest way."

Kinjo Shua.

As soon as the test loomed near, his demeanor had transformed entirely.

Among the 66th class of trainees, Kinjo—fresh out of university last year—was arguably the most prepared for this kind of test.

His sharp instincts made him an ideal teammate, even in a trial like this.

Knowing the future, I couldn't help but feel admiration—if not the urge to applaud.

Kinjo had already memorized A group's route.

As for me, I had prior knowledge from my past life, where I too had been in A group.

With this, another option opened: letting Kinjo advance while I stayed behind to block others.

"Things are looking smooth," I muttered.

In my previous life, my rank had been 43rd.

Back then, my partner had been Vel Red.

When we reached the checkpoint together:

-They said not to attack with the dagger, not that we couldn't use it at all.

Amon had stepped forward, brandishing his dagger inches from my face.

At the time, my weaknesses had been common knowledge among the trainees.

Overpowering me was a trivial task.

-Drop the map, Mago.

I had no choice but to comply.

-Sorry, Vel.

In the end, I had only managed to drag Vel down with me.

"It's fine. We'll do better next time," Vel had reassured me.

But her expression betrayed her frustration and bitterness.

That was the first time I'd ever felt the sting of shame and guilt from hindering someone else's success.

Even now, the memory lingered vividly.