Chapter 12: The Entrance Exam Begins

The sun hung low over the academy grounds as the entrance exam day dawned. A light mist curled over the vast training fields, a reminder that autumn was beginning to settle in. Mira stood among the many aspiring students gathered in the open courtyard, her sharp crimson eyes scanning the competition. The tension in the air was palpable—every candidate here had something to prove, and many had spent their entire lives preparing for this moment.

She had only two days to prepare, but that was enough.

Nia, standing at her side, fidgeted beneath her cloak. "This place feels… heavy."

Mira glanced at her. "It should. The Solara Grand Academy is the empire's finest. Only the most talented make it through."

Nia's golden eyes darted around. Many applicants bore noble crests, their uniforms tailored from the finest materials. Others carried weapons that shimmered with enchantments. Yet, despite their pedigree, many of them looked uncertain, nervous even.

Fear of failure.

Mira felt none of it.

A sudden flare of mana rippled through the air. The conversations around them halted as a figure strode onto the raised platform at the front of the courtyard. A man clad in a pristine white and gold military uniform stood tall, his very presence exuding authority. His gaze swept across the gathered students, his icy blue eyes sharp with scrutiny.

"I am High Instructor Cedric Varian," he announced, his voice carrying easily over the crowd. "For those of you who have the gall to set foot in this academy, understand this—weakness will not be tolerated. This is not a place for mediocrity. The entrance exam will be simple: prove your worth."

A few murmurs ran through the crowd, but Cedric continued without pause. "You will be tested in three stages: combat ability, magical aptitude, and strategic thinking. If you fail even one, you are out. If you survive, welcome to the academy."

Mira smirked. Survive? That's the word you chose? Interesting.

Cedric raised his hand, and the ground beneath them trembled. Several glowing blue circles formed across the courtyard, sigils humming with energy. One by one, students were called forward, stepping into the circles before being whisked away by teleportation magic.

When her name was called, Mira stepped forward without hesitation. Nia gave her a brief, nervous glance but remained where she was. Mira had made sure Nia's name wouldn't be called for combat trials—she would find another way into the academy, through support roles or alternative paths.

A rush of mana surged through Mira's body as the teleportation activated, and in an instant, she found herself standing in a vast, enclosed arena. Tall stone walls stretched around her, inscribed with ancient runes to suppress magic that might damage the academy grounds. Spectators—high-ranking instructors and evaluators—sat in viewing boxes above, studying each candidate with calculating eyes.

Across from her, a burly young man in heavy plate armor stepped forward, a massive war hammer resting on his shoulder. His expression was one of mild disinterest as he cracked his neck.

"Name's Garrick," he grunted. "Don't take it personally when I break a few of your bones."

Mira rolled her shoulders, letting her cloak slip off to reveal her sleek, form-fitting combat attire. "I won't. But you might."

A deep, resonating gong echoed through the arena. The match had begun.

Garrick moved first, charging forward with a speed that belied his size. His hammer swung in a wide arc, aiming to crush her in a single blow. The sheer force of it sent a gust of wind rippling through the arena.

Mira sidestepped effortlessly, the hammer smashing into the stone where she had stood. Too slow.

Before he could recover, she darted forward, her hand crackling with raw mana. She drove her palm against his exposed side, sending a controlled shockwave of energy through his armor. It wasn't enough to knock him out, but it sent him staggering, his stance faltering.

Garrick roared, regaining his footing. "You—!"

She didn't let him finish.

With fluid precision, she weaved through his defenses, striking at the joints of his armor. Each hit sent another jolt of magic into his system, wearing him down with calculated efficiency.

The spectators above murmured among themselves. Who was this girl? She fought with the grace of a seasoned duelist, yet no noble houses had claimed her as their own.

Garrick swung wildly, desperation leaking into his movements. Mira stepped into his guard, twisted her body, and brought her elbow slamming into his exposed neck. The impact was immediate—his eyes rolled back, and his massive body crumpled to the ground.

Silence.

Then, a slow clap.

Mira turned her gaze upward. One of the spectators, a woman dressed in deep crimson robes, was watching her with an amused expression. "Not bad," she mused. "Not bad at all."

Cedric stood nearby, his arms crossed. His gaze lingered on Mira for a moment longer before he turned away. "Next."

Mira smirked, stepping out of the arena as medics rushed to tend to Garrick. One test down. Two more to go.