Exam 5

Ceylan stood at the sidelines, arms crossed, eyes never leaving the course. She had no idea who her teammates would be—Draco had made it clear that he would be selecting them randomly when the next group neared the finish line.

So she waited. And she watched.

The trench was tricky, but predictable. She took note of how the wind users adjusted the platforms based on movement. A slight delay before they tilt…

The wall came next. Several teams underestimated it. The handholds moved, disappearing the moment they were grabbed. Those who tried to climb recklessly failed. The smart ones relied on teamwork—forming human ladders, boosting one another, using their strongest members as anchors.

Ceylan's lips curled slightly. This isn't just about speed or strength. It's about coordination.

More teams fell. Some failed at the trench, others at the shifting wall. One particularly unfortunate team was trapped in the Web of Woe, tangled in the illusion-covered ropes, unable to discern what was real and what wasn't.

The next team in line started getting restless. Draco turned to them, his gaze sharp.

"You're up."

Ceylan's pulse quickened as Draco's hand lifted.

He pointed.

One. Two. Three. Seven names called—hers among them.

She exhaled, stepping forward, the rope coiled around her waist.

Now it was her turn.

Ceylan stepped forward, feeling the weight of the rope tighten around her waist as her team gathered at the starting line. Beside her, Talis adjusted the knot at his side, testing the tension. The other five members—three men and two women—shifted uneasily, each eyeing the looming obstacles ahead.

Draco stood before them, expression blank. "Move."

The horn blared.

They bolted forward, reaching the trench where floating platforms swayed seemingly without pattern. Ceylan's sharp eyes darted over the pattern of movement. She calculated. Three-second intervals, shifting left—then right.

"Follow my lead," she ordered, voice calm but firm.

She took the first leap. The moment her feet landed, the platform tipped to the right. Talis followed her, his weight balancing hers perfectly. The others hesitated.

"Go now!" Ceylan snapped.

Two moved at the same time—one making it, the other landing too hard. The platform dipped violently. The rope yanked them all sideways.

The recruits below gasped.

"Too slow!" one elf already done with his test muttered, shaking his head.

Ceylan gritted her teeth, adjusting her stance. "Redistribute your weight! Lower your center of gravity!"

The team fought to stabilize, their legs straining, muscles burning. One more mistake, and they'd be tossed into the trench below.

A wind manipulator smirked, sending a sudden gust. The platform lurched.

Talis reacted instantly, throwing his weight the opposite direction, counterbalancing the force. Ceylan caught the rhythm, leading the team in a precise, controlled series of jumps. One after another, they cleared the platforms.

The moment they landed on solid ground, a wave of whispered cheers and scattered erupted from the spectators.

They faced their next challenge—a long stretch of thick mud, with a low-hanging net lined with electrified spikes. The only way forward was to crawl, and failure meant an immediate jolt of pain.

Talis whistled. "This is just cruel."

Ceylan ignored him. "Elbows in, keep low, move together."

They dropped to their stomachs.

The mud clung to their bodies like heavy chains. Each movement was a struggle, the sticky filth resisting their progress.

A team ahead of them screamed as one of their members lifted their back too high. A sharp zap filled the air, followed by a yelp of pain. The recruit slumped, body twitching slightly before his teammates dragged him forward.

Ceylan's team tensed.

Maris—one of the minor recruits—was struggling to keep up. Her breathing was ragged, her limbs shaking.

Talis caught it immediately. "Maris, shift your weight forward—don't use your knees, use your elbows."

Maris gritted her teeth, adjusting. But the delay cost them—the rope connecting them tightened, pulling the others back.

A faint blue spark crackled above Ceylan's head.

"Faster," Talis muttered.

A bead of sweat trickled down Ceylan's temple. The audience leaned forward, watching as the net trembled—just centimeters from their backs.

A sudden gust of wind blew a section of the net downward. Too fast.

Talis grabbed Maris's collar, shoving her forward.

She barely cleared it—the spikes grazing the top of her boot.

With one last, agonizing push, the team dragged themselves out of the mud pit, panting, covered in filth.

They barely had a moment to breathe,they moved onwards to the next obstacle, massive maze of ropes and illusions, designed to disorient and entangle. The ropes shimmered, some real, some fake.

The moment they stepped in, the world warped.

Varen, one of the male recruits, reached for a rope—only for his hand to pass straight through it. His eyes widened. "What—?"

Ceylan slapped Varen's hand down. "Don't trust what you see. Touch only."

They moved carefully, feeling for real ropes. The illusions pulsed, shifting the maze as they moved.

At one point, Maris hesitated, unsure. A false opening appeared ahead. She nearly stepped through—straight into a trap.

Ceylan yanked her back. A blast of magical energy erupted from where her foot would have landed.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

"That was close," Talis murmured.

Bit by bit, testing, feeling, leading, they made their way through.

When they finally emerged, the illusion shattered behind them.

Some recruits had tears in their eyes, still lost inside.

___

The moment Ceylan's team reached the base of the towering stone wall, their breaths hitched. It was tall—too tall. At least fifty feet high, covered in glowing grips that shifted randomly—some launching climbers up, others jerking them down without warning.

To make matters worse, the rope binding them together limited their movement. They couldn't climb separately or spread out to find stable grips. One mistake would drag them all down.

Draco's voice boomed across the training grounds.

"Twelve minutes left!"

The urgency slammed into them.

Talis groaned. "I hate this already."

Ceylan didn't respond. She was already scanning the wall, mapping out the least risky path.

"Up. Now." She jumped, grabbing the first grip. It held.

Talis and the others followed.

For the first few meters, everything seemed fine. The grips were stable, and they climbed slowly but steadily.

Then—

Click.

Maris let out a sharp cry as the grip she held onto yanked her down.

The entire team was jerked downward, nearly ripping them from the wall. Their feet scrambled for support, nails scraping against the stone.

Ceylan gritted her teeth. "Hold steady! Adjust your weight!"

Maris fought against the pull. Talis reached down, gripping her wrist tightly, helping her latch onto another hold.

Just as she secured herself—

Click.

This time, a grip launched Ceylan forward—too fast.

The sudden movement yanked the entire team upward. Talis almost lost his hold, his feet dangling for a second before he managed to grab onto a grip.

The recruits roared in excitement.

Ceylan adjusted her breathing. They couldn't afford another mistake.

They climbed.

Step by step, grip by grip, carefully testing each one before shifting their weight.

A few of the grips were gentle, moving them up smoothly. Others were ruthless, snatching them downward without warning.

At twenty feet, Talis's grip snapped back.

"Shit!" He barely caught another one in time, but the impact yanked the entire team sideways.

The rope twisted, throwing off their balance.

Ceylan acted fast.

"Shift left! Use the blue grips!"

Maris found a stable grip and braced herself. Talis swung himself forward, stabilizing the team again.

They kept climbing.

The wall seemed endless.

The higher they went, the more erratic the grips became. One nearly slammed Maris straight into the stone, another sent Talis swinging wildly.

They adjusted, adapted, moved as one.

Then—Ceylan saw it.

The final ledge.

Draco's voice echoed: "Eight minutes left."

A grin flashed across her face.

She reached for the last grip—

Click.

It snapped backward, taking her with it.

The crowd gasped.

Ceylan's body whipped downward, but she refused to fall.

With sheer instinct, she twisted in midair, kicking off a stable grip below her, and launched herself back up.

Her fingers caught the ledge.

The rope pulled tight, forcing the others to hurry before the tension yanked her down again.

Talis lunged. Maris clawed her way up.

One by one, they hauled themselves over the top.

Ceylan rolled onto her back, chest rising and falling, sweat dripping from her brow.

Talis laughed breathlessly. "I am never climbing again."

Ceylan smirked, staring up at the sky.

"Say that after the firewalk."