Chapter 5 : Let’s do this

Dawn broke over Luminthrone, painting the crystal spires in hues of pink and gold. Nicholai stood outside the guest manor, the stray cat now dubbed "Sparks" for its faint electric purr was perched atop his head, tail flicked lazily. 

He'd barely slept, too wired with anticipation, but he felt sharp, alive. Today was the mana evaluation, his first real chance to flex the system in this world. The air buzzed with mana and chatter as noble kids and their entourages streamed toward the Crested Arena, a stone-ringed coliseum near the Crystal Spire. Nicholai tugged his tunic straight dark green, simple but crisp and set off, Sparks nestled in his hair like a crown.

The streets were a riot of color nobles in silks, servants in drab tunics, vendors hawking charms "guaranteed" to boost mana. Nicholai wove through, dodging a cart of mana crystals and a kid juggling sparks. 

The arena loomed ahead, its arches carved with runes that pulsed faintly. A crowd gathered at the gates dozens of teens, mostly nobles, fidgeting under the weight of expectation. Nicholai scanned them, eyes narrowing as a familiar voice cut through the din.

"Well, well, if it isn't the family disgrace." Sylia Verenth stepped forward, flanked by two friends, a tall girl with braided red hair and a stocky boy with a smug grin. 

Her dark hair was pinned up, her cloak a rich burgundy that screamed House Verenth's wealth. Her eyes, sharp as knives, locked on Nicholai. "Why'd you waste your time coming here? Haven't you embarrassed us enough just by existing?"

Nicholai didn't flinch. Her words slid off him like rain on glass. He'd felt the old Nicholai's pain, but he wasn't that boy anymore. He tilted his head, fingers scratching Sparks's chin. The cat purred louder, a tiny buzz against his scalp. Sylia's sneer faltered, replaced by a scowl.

"Honestly," she pressed, stepping closer, "you're a stain on our name. No mana, no talent just a pitiful little worm. Go home, Nicholai. Spare us the shame." Her friends snickered, the redhead whispering something that made the boy snort.

Nicholai kept his gaze on Sparks, rolling a finger under its jaw. Sylia might as well have been a ghost; he refused to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. Her voice rose. "What, too cowardly to face me? You think ignoring me makes you clever? You're nothing, less than nothing. Father should've sent you to the stables with the muck."

Sparks batted at Nicholai's hand, and he chuckled softly, a sound that grated on Sylia's nerves. Her face flushed, hands clenched into fists. She raised one, mana sparking at her fingertips earth magic, ready to lash out. Her friends grabbed her arms, hissing warnings.

"Sylia, stop!" the redhead snapped. "No fighting here—it's forbidden on evaluation grounds. The Order Will disqualify you!"

Sylia froze, glaring, then lowered her hand with a huff. "Fine," she spat, turning back to Nicholai. "Ignore me all you want, little brother. You can't ignore the truth you wasted your time coming here. You'll fail, like always."

Nicholai finally looked at her, a slow, lopsided grin spreading. "Funny thing about worms," he said, voice light but edged, "they thrive in dirt you wouldn't touch. Enjoy your high horse, Sylia, it's a long fall." He winked, patting Sparks, and turned away.

Sylia's jaw dropped, rage flaring in her eyes. Her friends tugged her back, but she shook them off, storming away in a swirl of burgundy. "Insolent brat!" she shouted over her shoulder, voice lost in the crowd's hum. Nicholai smirked, stroking Sparks. *One point to me.*

The arena gates opened, and the crowd surged in. Nicholai followed, stepping into a vast oval of tiered stone seats ringing a dirt field. At the center stood a raised platform, flanked by mages in white robes trimmed with gold : the Order of the Crest, Eryndor's arbiters of magic. 

A crystal orb the size of a boulder hovered above, pulsing with soft light. Banners of noble houses : Verenth, Kael, Sylthar fluttered overhead. Nicholai found a spot near the edge, Sparks still atop his head, drawing curious glances.

A robed figure stepped forward—Master Erynn, a stern woman with silver hair and a mana aura that prickled the air. "Welcome, initiates," she boomed, voice amplified by magic. "Today, we measure your mana capacity, affinity, potential. Step to the orb when called. It will judge you true."

Nicholai leaned forward, piecing it together from borrowed memories and the scene

The evaluation process was simple but brutal:

Step One: Each noble teen (aged 15-17) approached the orb, placing a hand on it. The crystal read their mana pool raw capacity in Mana Points and glowed brighter with higher numbers.

Step Two: They cast a spell of their choice, showing affinity (fire, earth, water, etc.) and control. The Order scored it—power, precision, flair.

Step Three: Results were announced publicly, mana level, affinity, and a rank (Initiate, Adept, or rarely Master for prodigies). Nobles gloated; failures slunk away.

"Based on some recent events, a general meeting with the king and the order, a new step of evaluation has been deemed necessary to be added. This step is meant to test man quality and your ability to utilize mana in any situation…especially battle related scenarios. 

We will have a last step. Nothing too serious, just friendly spar between you all"

The crowd was filled with murmurs at the sudden addition of a new stage, many were excited to show their skills, many speculated and some others protested saying it was just a rule added to make the nobles look good .

But Nicholai had a greater insight, even if Master Erynn had said it was just to test mana quality and adaptability, he felt there was something else at play. 

"Why would they need to test combat skills when it's just supposed to be an evaluation of mana?" He pondered aloud, his eyes lit up in realization "They are scouting for potential combat mages, but why? The continent is relatively peaceful"

"You have great insight young man," an old man chipped in, short and hunched over a walking cane. Nicholai couldn't help but wonder where he came from

"Thank you," Nicholai replied and immediately went back to watching the evaluation process

"You know, things aren't always as they seem, young man. It's necessary to look deeper and find out for yourself. Don't always believe what you are told." 

"Thank you for the wise words, I'll be sure to keep it at heart"

"What is your name, young man?" The man asked, 

"Nicholai. Nicholai Verenth"

The man's eyes widened, and he recognized the name. "I see. You're a well mannered boy, too bad that the world is not fair," He pulled out a crystal ring and handed it Nicholai, 

"If you're ever in a life or death situation, just pour some mana, however little, into this ring." He said before walking away.

Nicholai looked at the ring and looked up again to thank the man but he was nowhere to be seen.

Nicholai sighed, "Am I so pitiful that even the elderly look down and pity me. Regardless, I am grateful for the gift. Thank you old man, hopefully I don't have to use it,"

After the evaluation ranks shaped futures. Initiates (50-200 MP) got basic training soldiers or clerks. Adepts (200-500 MP) joined noble academies or house guards.

Masters (500-1,000 MP) were rare snapped up by the Order, the king, or elite houses. Failures below 50 MP faced shame, exile to rural posts, or worse. 

Sylia, already an Adept at 400 MP, was here to gloat; Eldric, a Master at 900, hadn't bothered showing up. Nicholai's old 50 MP would've branded him a reject. Now? He had 500 Mental Energy, a cheat maybe?

The first name rang out "Dorian Kael!" and a broad-shouldered boy strode up, Sylia's friend smirking nearby. He slapped the orb; it flared orange fire affinity reading 350 MP. His spell, a flaming whip, cracked the air, earning nods from the Order. "Adept," Erynn declared, and Dorian swaggered off to cheers.

More followed water jets, stone spikes, wind gusts. Sylia's turn came, and she glided up, smirking at Nicholai. Her hand touched the orb; it glowed a deep brown earth affinity clocking 420 MP. She summoned a jagged pillar, precise and towering, then flicked her hair as Erynn called, "Adept, high tier." The crowd clapped; Sylia shot Nicholai a triumphant glare. He yawned, tickling Sparks's ears.

Names ticked by some shone, some faltered. A girl with 80 MP barely sparked a light, slinking off to jeers. Nicholai watched, plotting. His mana was still 50 pathetic but the system was his ace. He'd conjure something, pass it off as magic. Simple, brilliant.

"Nicholai Verenth!" Erynn's voice jolted him. The crowd hushed, eyes turning some curious, some mocking. Sylia's laugh rang out, sharp and deliberate. Nicholai stood, Sparks hopping to his shoulder, and walked to the platform. The orb loomed, its light steady, waiting. He felt the weight of stares Sylia's, the Order's, the nobles'. His hand hovered an inch from the crystal, pulse hammering.

*Here we go,* he thought, a grin creeping up. Whatever happened next, he'd make it unforgettable.