024. Mana Evaluation 2

As the line gradually moved forward, with each student taking their turn to assess their mana level, the atmosphere in the chamber grew heavier with tension and anticipation.

Whispers rippled through the crowd as the crystal orb pulsed with light after each test, marking one result after another.

Soon, it was Kael's turn.

He exhaled quietly, then stepped forward and ascended the few stone steps that led up to the altar. The platform wasn't particularly high, but the moment he stood atop it, it felt like every eye in the room turned to him.

Out of instinct, he glanced back toward the crowd—and there was Joe, right at the front, waving both arms and shouting his name like it was a championship final.

"Go on, Kael! Show 'em what you got! You can do it!"

'This guy's got to be kidding me right now.'

Kael grunted and turned forward, stretching out his hand slowly and placing it on the crystal orb.

He hesitated for a moment and almost pulled back his hand, but the older man standing behind him gently placed a hand on his shoulder, as if offering silent support.

'I seriously don't want to do this, but since everyone has already gone through with it, I guess I have no choice but to do the same.'

He finally placed his hand on the orb, and it began to glow—brightly and unpredictably. The colors shifted rapidly, mixing between gold, purple, orange, and yellow, each one pulsing in sharp bursts of light.

The swirling radiance danced across the chamber walls, casting flickering shadows and bathing the room in a dazzling display that drew startled gasps from the crowd.

Normally, a display like that shouldn't have been possible. The system's affinity—being hidden and not his primary source of power—wasn't supposed to show at all.

Only a person's main mana type was ever revealed during the evaluation. Secondary affinities, if they existed, remained dormant, unnoticed by the crystal.

The crystal finally began to dim, its brilliant swirl of colors gradually fading. The once-blinding glow softened, flickered, then vanished altogether—until all that remained was a clear, transparent orb.

A hush fell over the chamber, thick and uneasy.

"What?! This is not possible! There has to be some mistake!" one of the teachers blurted out, his voice sharp with disbelief. He stepped forward, peering at the orb as if it had betrayed logic itself.

But before the tension could spiral further, the older man behind Kael calmly reached out and tapped the agitated teacher on the shoulder.

"Let him try the process all over again," he said evenly, his tone composed—yet there was a weight behind his words that quieted the room.

Kael glanced back, already expecting this commotion to occur and wasn't in the slightest surprised by everyone's reaction to his mana level.

'I was expecting this, but I didn't expect they would overreact,' he thought as he watched their reactions with the corner of his eyes.

"Try again, boy, and place your full palm on the orb this time," the man instructed.

Kael nodded, then faced forward and placed his palm on the orb—his full palm this time, as instructed.

The orb began to glow—brightly and unpredictably. The colors shifted rapidly, mixing between gold, purple, orange, and yellow, each one pulsing in sharp bursts of light.

The crystal finally began to dim, its brilliant swirl of colors gradually fading. The once-blinding glow softened, flickered, then vanished altogether—until all that remained was a clear, transparent orb again.

The teachers began whispering among themselves in hushed tones, their calm veneer slipping as they exchanged puzzled glances.

The older man stood still, eyes fixed on the now-transparent orb. For the first time, his composed expression wavered—just slightly—as disbelief crept into his gaze.

Behind Kael, the other students shifted uneasily. Those who didn't fully understand what had happened began murmuring to one another in low voices, the quiet hum of speculation and mocking spreading through the chamber like a rising tide.

"What? He doesn't have any mana to show off? What a shame," one of the students near the back chuckled, loud enough for others to hear.

"So he's the weakest in the class. We finally caught on," another added with a smug grin, earning a few scattered laughs from those nearby.

The murmurs grew bolder now, laced with mockery and amusement. It didn't matter that none of them understood what had really happened—the absence of color spoke louder than fact.

'As expected of them,' he sighed, awaiting the teacher's judgment on his performance.

The teachers stood frozen, caught in a moment of collective uncertainty. None of them knew quite what to say or how to react, because what they had just witnessed was not only rare—it was something whispered about in the margins of old records, spoken of more like a myth than a documented phenomenon.

It was the kind of occurrence so uncommon, so elusive, that most believed it had simply never happened in their lifetime—if it ever had at all.

Their knowledge of it was vague at best, drawn from fragmented stories and secondhand accounts passed down over the years—accounts they had almost dismissed as exaggeration or folklore.

And then came the anomaly itself: a mana so rare, so fundamentally different, that even the crystal—designed to categorize and define the full spectrum of magical energy—failed to classify it.

Instead of displaying a distinct color like the others, it shimmered with a translucent brilliance, flickering like a prism caught in shifting light—unstable, unknowable, and unlike anything they had seen before. It wasn't a sign of weakness. It was far from it. It was a sign of something beyond their understanding.

"What should we do? We haven't dealt with this kind of mana level before," one of the teachers murmured to the others.

"Yes, that's true. But we still have to evaluate it. We'll lay it off for now until we have more grounded knowledge about it—enough for us to decide where to place it," the older man spoke.

The others nodded slowly, recognizing the truth in his words. There was no use debating something they didn't fully understand—no foundation on which to build an argument.

Speculation would only lead to confusion. For now, the only sensible course of action was to set the matter aside, to treat it with caution and patience.

They needed time—to gather information, to consult old texts and forgotten records, to piece together whatever knowledge existed about such anomalies.

Only then, when they had a clearer picture, could they begin to make any real decision about where it belonged… or what it truly meant.