Exam. (1)

Julie and her knights arrived at the scene of the incident.

Not far from the fourth station. Less than an hour from Verhert.

"...During the first attack, Professor Deculein safely stabilized the train and rescued survivors alongside Knight Veron."

An official dispatched from the Security Bureau radiated mana as he explained the situation.

"Then, in the second attack, the entire train car toppled over the cliff, and it appears Knight Veron fell during that process. However, the VIP car carrying Professor Deculein miraculously caught on the cliffside down there."

"I see."

Julie and the knights understood clearly. The official even showed them photos copied from Roen.

"Of course, this remote location leaves us relying solely on witness accounts, but did you happen to see that knight?"

"Yes."

Julie had already read the article. Naturally, she'd seen the photos of the train suspended in midair and Deculein calmly inside it.

"Some might not have been released, but take a look."

The official showed one more. Corpses of the assassins who had attacked the train.

"Probably subdued by the Chief Professor. Man, a mage of that caliber really is a one-man army. Haha."

The official chuckled wryly, but the knights didn't laugh. Sensing the mood, he grew serious again.

"In summary, both did their best to resolve the crisis, but Knight Veron seems to have met his end in the second attack."

"...Thank you."

"Of course."

Julie bowed politely and surveyed the surroundings.

The whole world was blinding white, endless. A landscape that made her mind reel.

Rockfel sat dejectedly on the tracks, muttering like a sigh.

"...What an idiot. A guy who fought so hard to live, dying just escorting a damn train."

Julie didn't hear Rockfel's words.

Her ears rang blankly for a moment.

She thought she'd grown numb to losing comrades, but that poor life kept flashing in her mind.

He'd been a boy with nothing. From the very bottom, chasing a single dream, enduring endless toil to finally glimpse the light... and now.

Julie asked the official.

"Any personal effects, perhaps?"

"None."

"And the culprits behind the attack...?"

"That's tricky. Journeys to Verhert are meant to be free of recriminations, but with another knight as the sole casualty... we're not sure whether to investigate."

It was an understandable dilemma.

But at that exact moment, as Julie nodded—

Startled, Julie pulled her wallet from her pocket. Inside was a crystal orb she didn't recognize.

She quickly stepped aside and spoke into it.

"What is this?!"

"...You know the full story, sister?"

Indeed, Yuseffin inexplicably commanded vast information networks. Nearly every rumor in society flowed to her.

"..."

It seemed suspicious, but Yuseffin had no public scandals. Her reputation was more pristine than anyone's.

"If it's illegal—"

"..."

Julie was dumbfounded. Meaning Veron died to a blind blade.

"...Raon?"

Gallak. Raon. Lot.

A parade of unfamiliar names furrowed Julie's brow.

Before hearing it, Julie glanced at her knights wandering the tracks with troubled faces.

"...!"

Julie's eyes widened.

"What does Gilteon have to do with this attack?"

"..."

"...Yes."

Yuseffin cut the connection.

"Gilteon..."

Julie pondered Gilteon. Zeit had told her plenty about his notoriety.

But that was over a decade ago. In current circumstances, it was likely coincidence.

Still.

"What exactly happened down there...?"

Julie gazed over the cliff. Pebbles trickled from under her heels.

The endless fog-shrouded edge of the world.

Her comrade's remains lay at the bottom.

The fifth week of Understanding Pure Element Magic was naturally canceled due to the Verhert incident, but I assigned homework instead.

Knowing they'd hate it, I added that it was optional—deductions if skipped.

Afterward, I threw myself into creating exam questions at the mansion.

This time, pure originality.

Inspired by past exams, but the solving process and results would differ vastly.

I also advanced my magic, successfully transplanting the Basic Firepower Control ritual into my Beginner Telekinesis. Now, telekinesis enables remote firepower control. Next target: Basic Ground Manipulation.

Spending a week in training, tempering, and research, finally.

Today.

"..."

When I laid eyes on the problems I'd crafted.

I couldn't help but admire them.

"...Perfect."

A ripple of pure gold mana shimmered from the exam papers. The Major Wealth trait reacted to mere test sheets.

Eight questions total.

1-2 focused on theory; the rest emphasized application and utility.

7 and 8 were Debutante-level minimum. If 1-6 were single-variable functions, 7-8 were multivariable.

Diligent effort would yield rich rewards.

For examinees or mages, insights from tough challenges fuel growth.

Feeling pleased, I left the annex. En route to the main house, I met Roy.

"Ah, sir. Auction results."

Roy handed over a paper. Auction outcome and payment for Eastern Artisan Egehan's Flower Vase.

"...Sold for quite a sum."

21 million. After fees and taxes, 13-15 million, but over twice expected.

"Yes. Had the petals analyzed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at the tower—recovery from fatigue, skin benefits. Drew noblewomen and adventurers alike—"

"I get it. Enough for the estate's finances?"

"Yes, sir."

"No word from Yeriel?"

"No."

She'd spent about 9 million elne in Verhert.

No contact in a week—perhaps letting it slide.

"Delivery! Package!"

A shout from the mansion gate.

"Count Yukline! From Verhert!"

The man shouting exuded an unusual aura. On closer look, an adventurer ID around his neck.

"Signature first, please!"

"...Adventurers do deliveries too?"

I signed and asked.

"Haha. Money talks. Here's your package!"

The box was heavy.

My heart thudded inappropriately.

"Roy, take it easy."

"Yes, sir."

Feigning nonchalance, I headed to my room in the main house.

Authenticated the safe with biometrics and opened the box.

Various thoughts swirled as I did.

Just a week? Did the old man half-ass it, or is Deculein's blood too poor?

Such worries filled my mind as I opened it.

I stared, dumbfounded.

It wasn't a staff or wand—just a noble's cane from medieval times.

Relic-level beauty and performance, plus item traits.

It mirrored my traits perfectly. Fortunately, only the good ones; the rest filtered out.

"All this for a mere 9 million elne..."

An insane discount.

I fiddled with the cane everywhere. Felt like a kid with his first smartphone.

"...Ahem."

Getting excited over a cane was childish. Class in three days—time to prepare lectures.

Format already set. Even drafted the room reservation plan.

The pre-midterm finale: so-called Comprehensive Review Through real combat.

Wednesday, final pre-midterm lecture.

Ifrin arrived at the tower's fifth floor. Today's class wasn't A-Room on the third—it was the fifth's "purpose floor."

"What now...?"

Only three classrooms here. Ifrin gripped one door handle and opened it.

"..."

Her jaw dropped simultaneously.

Vast expanse too grand for the eyes, domed ceiling soaring high, central rectangular stage, surrounding spectator seats... Like an arena.

Mages already gathered, buzzing.

"Hey, Ifrin!"

Julia, Ferit, and clubmates approached. Ifrin naturally joined the commoner cluster; opposite was Sylvia.

Verhert conference survivor Sylvia was swarmed by nobles.

Ifrin glanced; Sylvia ignored her.

At precisely 3 p.m.—

Deculein entered from the entrance. The chatter died instantly.

His usual neat, aristocratic gait, but a cane in hand. Exuded luxury.

Bought it in Verhert, huh.

"Greetings."

Deculein mounted the central stage, overlooking the mages.

"Today's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lesson: magitech combat practice."

Magitech combat. Unavoidable, indispensable for mages.

Debutantes tensed.

"Furthermore."

Snap—

Deculein snapped his fingers. The arena's veil lifted.

"Huh."

"W-what?"

Ifrin and mages gawked. Hundreds already seated.

"Public practice."

Mages glanced around in shock. Brief uproar, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but Deculein hammered in the "lecture process and goals" with firm voice.

"Implement any magic in combat, but deploy at least three pure element magics. Focus solely on process, win or lose. I'll observe strengths and weaknesses. Use it to grow. Professor Rellin?"

"Yes. That's me."

Rellin appeared, waving to mages and crowd, reveling in attention.

"Professor Rellin will prevent casualties, so no need to hold back."

"Hahaha. Just trust me—"

"Class begins. First: Eurojan."

"...Y-yes!"

Dazed Eurojan shot up his hand and ascended.

"Choose an opponent. Anyone here."

"Uh..."

Eurojan hesitated, picked friend Loton.

They faced off.

"Begin. Time limit: three minutes."

At Deculein's word, awkward magic exchanged at first.

Eurojan's fire spread thin like a curtain around Loton. Loton interfered with mana.

Sizzle—!

Flames evaporated into steam. Loton froze it. Icy metal vapor surged at Eurojan.

Clang—!

Eurojan blocked with barrier.

"..."

After that first clash.

Awkwardness vanished; seriousness filled the space.

They cast, countered, defended repeatedly... but the bout lasted under a minute.

"Urk!"

A groan ended it. Loton depleted first.

"Eurojan wins, but score depends on process."

Deculein observed, notetaking. No—a quill in midair scribbled itself.

"Next, Beck."

Beck, nasty noble from Ifrin's view, smirked and picked Ferit. Ferit ascended fearfully.

"Begin."

Pure element exchanges, but gap clear. Ferit's support barely held Beck's destruction for 30 seconds.

"Beck wins. Next, Rondo."

...Duels progressed relentlessly.

Yet Ifrin, watching Debutante fights, fixated on one phrase.

'Anyone here.'

Amid ongoing battles—

Sparks flew, earth quaked. Tiles erupted; metal pierced flames. Even Ifrin marveled at Electromagnetic Gale.

These magical clashes awakened a deep desire in her.

"Next... Ifrin."

Ifrin realized her name called. Yet she ascended alone, without naming anyone.

All mages eyed her curiously. Ignoring them, she asked Deculein.

"Anyone at all?"

"Yes. Anyone."

Ifrin lowered her eyes briefly.

Confirmation secured.

Anyone.

Anyone.

Anybody.

Fine to choose.

"Ifrin. Don't dawdle."

Deculein urged.

...Ears numb, gut boiling. Mana surged through veins.

Ifrin slowly raised her head.

"I..."

Slowly extended a finger.

Scarred finger, callused from toil.

That rough index pointed to...

Him.

"Chief Professor Deculein."

One day, I will crush you with my own skill.

I know the road is long now.

But that's why I want to gauge our gap. Spar in earnest, once.

Too soon? Fine.

Loss? Irrelevant.

I just can't miss this chance.

The arena stared, as if at a madwoman light-years away.

Ifrin briefly thought herself insane.

"W-what! You crazy bitch! Get down!"

Professor Rellin charged in outrage, but Ifrin held her finger steady. Gazed only at Deculein. He met her steadfast eyes without flinching.

"I..."

Ifrin returned to that winter moment four months prior,

retaining the emotions of first seeing Deculein.

"...challenge the professor."

And she clearly saw it.

A faint, twisted smile curling Deculein's lips.