Chapter 9: The Unfortunate Side Effect of Standing Out

The instant I went onto the testing grounds, I felt it. 

 The weight of hundreds of gazes measuring up the competitors. 

 Noble heirs, battle-hardened knights' children, and the occasional commoner with raw talent—all of them stood at attention, waiting for their turn. 

 I had meant to blend in. To be simply another "talented but not too talented" applicant. But then I discovered something alarming. 

 A number of these people were truly talented. 

 Like, outrageously so. 

 I spotted the protagonist, sitting in the far corner, stretching nonchalantly like this was some morning fitness routine. His characteristic sword stood beside him, its hilt glittering under the sun. 

 Then there was her—Elara Vaelmont, the frosty aristocratic genius who, in the tale, was recognized for her unrivaled precision in magic. She sat comfortably, eyes closed, as small flickers of magic danced about her fingers. 

 And then there was me. 

 A guy who had cheated time itself only to make sure I wasn't a total weakling. 

 "Alright," I muttered to myself, "just pass normally. No showing off." 

 Easier said than done. 

 The first examination was a simple mana aptitude exam. 

 Each pupil had to place their hand on a crystal ball, which would measure their mana stores and control. 

 A normal aristocratic heir would score between 50 to 200 on the Academy's rating scale. Prodigies, like Elara, usually scored above 300. 

 I, of course, knew my boundaries. I had spent endless hours fine-tuning my mana circulation so that I wouldn't seem suspicious. 

 My objective was a comfortable 180. Impressive, but not outrageous. 

 I laid my hand on the gem. 

 It glowed. 

 Then it kept blazing. 

 … And then it flared bright enough to momentarily blind people. 

 Oh. 

 I immediately jerked my hand away. "Aha! Haha! Must have been a surge—happens sometimes!" 

 The examiner blinked, consulting his records. "Your mana score is… 510." 

 Silence. 

 Several pupils, who had earlier been comfortable, whipped their heads in my way. 

 The protagonist looked up. Elara's eyes narrowed. 

 I wanted to die. 

 After my unintentional "Look at me, I'm an anomaly!" moment, I decided to tone it down. 

 The following test was combat sparring. 

 Each student was matched against an opponent depending on their projected ability level. Since I had just shattered the mana ranking predictions, I got paired against a top-ranked noble heir. 

 Great. 

 My opponent? Gareth Velmore, heir of House Velmore, noted for their swordsmanship. 

 The guy had actual military experience. I had largely trained by swinging a sword in frozen time. 

 Still, I wasn't worried. As long as I just barely won, I'd be fine. 

 The match commenced. 

 Gareth charged, sword swinging in a crisp arc. Fast. Precise. 

 I ducked. Easily. 

 Then I panicked. 

 Crap—too quickly. 

 So I fumbled, making it look like I had narrowly averted the onslaught. (Perfect acting, 10/10.) 

 Gareth smirked, believing he had me on the ropes. "Not bad. But can you manage this?" 

 He stepped in, delivering a combo assault. 

 I halted time. 

 Took a sip of water. Stretched my arms. Thought about lunch. 

 Then I adjusted my sword slightly so that when time resumed, it would look like I had barely parried his assault. 

 Time resumed. 

 CLANG! 

 His sword rebounded. The audience gasped. 

 Gareth stumbled back, eyes wide. "That was—!" 

 I instantly stumbled over my own feet to make it look unintentional. "Haha! Whoops! Lucky move!" 

 The crowd still cheered. 

 I wanted to shout. 

 The Academy's last entry exam was a stamina-based trial. 

 Candidates had to last in a magically increased gravity field for as long as feasible. 

 Most average applicants lasted between 5-15 minutes. Prodigies could hold out for 25 minutes at best. 

 I figured 20 minutes would be a safe spot to land. 

 So, naturally, I lost track of time and mistakenly lasted an hour. 

 By the time the instructor forced me out of the trial, I was the last one left. 

 "...You lasted an hour," the examiner replied in surprise. 

 The protagonist barely lasted 32 minutes. 

 I immediately started coughing and feigned to collapse from tiredness. 

 "Ahaha… got carried away," I wheezed. 

 The instructor still stared at me like I was a freak. 

 I definitely stood out now. 

 After the entrance examinations, I tried to disappear into the background. 

 Didn't work. 

 People were conversing. 

 "Who is that guy?" 

 "House Roy? Never heard of them." 

 "That mana test score… ridiculous." 

 "That combat reaction speed—insane." 

 Even the protagonist appeared moderately concerned. 

 I sighed. 

 So much for fitting in.