Soda Promotion (1)

The airship en route to the Training Island.

Betan muttered curtly.

"But that guy never took the bait right up to the end. That soup."

"Enough with the obsession. It wasn't even a surefire method."

"...Yes. I suppose you're right. I should've just eaten it myself instead. What a waste, spilling it like that."

Altiegue blood reacted sharply to even a single petal of Rotaili (40g)—labored breathing, flushed face. Of course, for half-breeds with diluted Altiegue lineage, the effects were milder, so it wasn't a foolproof test.

And one couldn't just squander Rotaili—a delicacy far pricier than its weight in gold, with demand crushing supply—just to screen for Altiegue.

Of course, if Premien had eaten it, the reaction would've been vivid. As a key named figure with thick Altiegue blood, she would've lit up like a beacon.

"Betan, didn't you say you confirmed it by opening the heart?"

"Ah~ But that's inefficient—you can't check until after you kill them. You need to know if they're Altiegue before killing to properly interrogate them. Can't waste precious Rotaili on bug-like scum either, so lately I've been deep into blood magic development."

Betan grinned broadly. I averted my eyes from that smile.

It was grotesque.

If Betan's prodding had continued, who knows what Premien might've done—but thanks to it, I earned shop currency anyway.

The reward for neutralizing the death variable she'd harbored for that brief moment.

In truth, I'd agonized over it.

Whether to tell Premien, "I already know you're Altiegue," or let it play out a bit longer.

Her cooperation would be essential someday, but the timing wasn't right yet, so I shifted course.

"That said, Rotaili was delicious. A treasure of the mountains indeed."

Betan smacked his lips, lost in memories of the soup. His eyes were glazed with satisfaction.

"The Yukline territory is truly fertile. Turning Rotaili into soup."

A type of mushroom, yet no ordinary one—more like an elixir. A delicacy that grew only in pristine natural havens with exacting conditions.

With Marik now open, prices were surging. Nothing beat Rotaili for purging demonic energy.

"Special menu for a reason... Slurp. The flavor still lingers in my mouth."

"Mention my name anytime in summer. Winter's scarce, but summer has plenty."

Betan looked touched.

* * *

By the time the airship reached the Training Island, morning had broken—and a single "day" on the schedule was no longer just a day.

Palace, Hadekan, Floating Island, now Training Island by airship.

Even with Iron Man, the mental fatigue was no joke.

"Whoa! You made it!"

The moment I stepped off, the chairwoman greeted me.

"Our seventh strongest!"

"..."

Those words made my head spin a little.

She'd been strolling the seaside with her dog, but her eyes widened at Betan beside me.

"With Betan too!"

"Haha. It's always an honor traveling with the professor."

Betan was starting to wear on me.

"More importantly, Professor Deculein! Did you hear?!"

"Hear what?"

"A proctor got killed on the way here!"

"..."

Delivering such grave news so brightly sent a chill down my spine.

I shook my head and walked alongside the chairwoman. Betan trailed three steps behind.

"Not surprised?"

"Cause of death and culprit."

"No clue! Investigation hasn't started! I'll let you know when results come in!"

True to her gossip-loving nature, she was into everything and loved to chatter. Wait, and she'd spill it all.

"I see. Where's my lodging?"

Overworked, I'd neglected the most crucial magic training.

Intermediate Telekinesis felt within reach, so I needed a private spot to train.

"Ah! Follow me!"

The Training Island spanned 3 km²—about Yeouido's size, or 300 soccer fields stitched together.

Vast enough for five buildings: exam dorms, proctor quarters, control tower, supply depot, Yukline Grand Hall.

I was led to the control tower, a lighthouse-like spire at the northeast edge.

"Use this!"

The chairwoman opened the door.

The interior was ordinary. High-end mansion vibes, spotless—no irritants for my nerves.

"And this!"

She handed me a crystal orb.

"Security team's monitoring the exam nonstop! Special issues get reported here!"

She dashed to the right-side floor-to-ceiling window.

"Magic mirror for the chief proctor—know how to use it?!"

I approached. A puff ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of mana, and the view shifted to a satellite-like overhead of the island.

I tapped a spot: the exam dorms.

The glass zoomed in.

Palm flat, I swiped—the view panned like Street View.

"Oho! You got it! Cutting-edge magitech!"

"..."

Basic as breathing for me.

A touch nostalgic.

The world in your hand—a smartphone.

"No explanation needed! Off for a walk with Adrienne II!"

"Very well."

Woof! Woof!

Adrienne set off adventuring with Adrienne II.

I scanned the island via the magic glass.

Adventurer-mages played soccer on the dorm field; Ifrin ate with some named figure in the cafeteria.

I spotted the persons of interest.

"...As expected."

The first Soda exam drew loaches aplenty. No—from now on, every continental event would face heavy Altar or underworld meddling.

"Amazing. The Floating Island really gathers all magitech. Spotting that mystery at a glance—impressive, Professor."

Betan's drawn-out praise out of nowhere.

"...Betan."

The guy was still hanging around.

"Yes?"

"Rest now."

"Ah~ Yes. Understood. I'll head out. Rest well, Professor."

Good—he had some tact.

Betan left promptly. I toyed with the glass, then headed to the rooftop.

Whiiiiiish—

Gale winds whipped.

Right: sheer cliffs and clouds. Left: island vista. Ambient mana here was 2-3 times purer and denser than mainland.

With panoramic views, I sat cross-legged.

Then deployed the magic Memorize.

Engraving Telekinesis runes across my body.

The moment I began the grueling discipline, nearby grass, pebbles, twigs, leaves, and dirt shuddered violently.

Dooooooong—!

Resonance and vibration rippled from the hot springs. Pavement quaked faintly; whirlwinds rose. Magnetic fields flickered; air warped like heat haze.

My flesh's Telekinesis edging toward intermediate— the magic, now vast and intricate, venting excess...

......

Far from the control tower, Kariksel spied through binoculars, sighing softly.

"Strong enough."

"Really?"

Someone replied to his grumble.

"Yeah. No idea what he's after, but looks like ripping up the ground with Telekinesis?"

"Lemme see."

"Go ahead."

Kariksel handed over the binoculars and shrugged.

His mana talent tied to gear—his binoculars pierced dozens of km clearly.

"That's Telekinesis? Not Earthquake?"

"Yep. Anyway, assassinating that professor? Impossible. Obvious failure, and it'd backfire. Even success brings no good. Admit it?"

"...Admit. Thought he was hype, but nah—not that hyped."

Long hair fluttered as someone nodded; Kariksel reclaimed the binoculars.

......

Mid-discipline.

A popup gave me pause.

"...Hm?"

Someone here had me targeted, it seemed.

Startling, but evaded regardless—good news.

I accepted gratefully and dove back in.

* * *

Next day.

By morning, family consultant mages, professors, adventurer captains, guild/corp mages arrived in droves.

Aiming to scout and network.

All gathered at the Yukline Grand Hall on the east side. Built via Yukline donation, as the name implied.

Divided into ground floor and upper viewing seats.

Ground: 1,000+ examinees soon arriving. Seats: for scouts.

"Please take your assigned seats."

I sat at Deculein's spot—prime view through the floor-to-ceiling glass.

"Professor. Good morning. Haha."

Betan for Beorad; Mielle, top mage of Crummacto guild; Ruina for Macqueen; Essensil for Bran, etc.

"Acrylic slates, please."

Staff handed slates listing mages' names. Ranked by grades—top of first page: Sylvia.

Seeing her name didn't sit entirely well.

Then.

"...Aigoo, Deculein. Our seventh strongest, eh?"

Gilteon, for Ilayde.

He sat beside me. I received his greeting impassively.

"It's been ages, Gilteon."

Air chilled instantly.

The chairwoman, watching us, perked her gossip antennae and butted in.

"Gilteon! Tenth strongest, passed by Deculein! By three spots!"

"Haha. True. Bit disappointing, but expected. I'm aging; he's rising."

"Still, gotta spar sometime, right?!"

"Hm. Not bad. Folks underestimate me since I stay off ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the front lines."

"Yes! Totally!"

Chairwoman hyped for a fight. Gilteon smiled.

"Ha! Think a geezer like you can take on the professor?"

Not me—Betan, now my lackey.

Gilteon eyed him blankly.

"Heh... When'd you two get chummy."

"Right! Show the kids a mage duel between you two! Pump 'em up!"

"What nonsense is that?"

Familiar voice reined her in.

Ruina von Shulot Macqueen.

Chairwoman glared.

"Who're you?!"

"Scare the examinees for what? And since when rank mages by combat? Then ditch all non-destruction specialists, huh? Gilteon head, Professor Deculein—both lower rank than Roserio here."

"Hm? Heh heh. Was enjoyin' the show. Why interrupt? Heh heh."

Roserio scratched her pink hair, smiling wryly.

As noted, genius in synthesis/support. Reached Ether Rank mid-20s via myth: building a full castle in a day.

"Shame. Wanted to measure against seventh strongest. Know what they say—stinky mackerel by head. Old me might win. Nah, will win."

Gilteon's words grated.

Real fight? I'd lag.

But my ego wouldn't just chuckle this provocation off.

"Gilteon."

I glared. Unconscious fury slipped out.

"You'll die."

"Hm~ Not bad."

Gilteon smiled; chairwoman and Betan went "Ooh!" excitedly; Ruina sighed.

"..."

But Gilteon's face irked me.

Genuine—yearning for death.

"Enough, Deculein. Gilteon too. Exam's starting."

Eldest, Longdalp, sternly intervened. I silently watched mages filling the hall beyond the glass.

Soda promotion was big. Mages, adventurers joined; Floating Island ignored criminal pasts for ex-tower mages—anything could happen.

"Check the acrylic slates. Examinee profiles and specs listed? Mark ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠notables. Part of the exam—please..."

The mage pleaded earnestly.

"Again: profiles and specs on slates? Mark notables. For the exam—please..."

I checked Ifrin, Sylvia, familiar names.

*

Ifrin sat, scanning the packed hall.

Makes sense—Soda meant full-fledged adult mage. Adventurers chased the badge; some Sodas retook for better promo path.

"Welcome, all!"

Clear voice echoed from the podium.

Imperial University Tower chairwoman Adrienne. Famous for vast mana capacity and devastating power—like a child, beaming.

"Soda promotion starts now! See the viewing seats?!"

All looked up. Fancy attire beyond ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the glass.

Most striking: Deculein, of course.

"Lots came to see your faces. Some in guilds already, but visibility matters!"

Chairwoman thrust arms up—victory pose.

"They'll watch all exam! No stalking, but shine bright—huge career boost! Big shots in magic world!"

Bam bam bam—

She rapped the podium thrice.

"Now, proper Soda exam! Too many—over a thousand! Gotta trim!"

Eyes closed.

Mana billowed from her. Body became mana mass.

"—."

Tiny murmur.

Fwaaaaa—!

Mana wave engulfed the hall; blinding light surged.

"Ugh."

"First test starts—now!"

All opened eyes at her words.

"...Insane."

Ifrin cursed involuntarily.

Hall gone—forest. Adrienne's feat: Grand Magic: Mass Teleport.

Archmage Demakan soloed colossal spells; she'd neared that realm.

"Where's this...?"

Thick white mist in grass.

Ifrin squinted around. 100-200 examinees, equally baffled.

Trimmed by 20% batches?

"Greetings."

Boyish voice boomed. Ifrin startled.

Short man amid mist.

"I'm proctor 'Mimic' for Soda exam."

Mimic. Odd name. Plain robe, crossbag—tiny stature.

140cm?

"Soda tests mage ability, quality, character. Beyond academy—real-world skills."

Waaah~!

Admiration from somewhere. Ifrin glanced: beret-masked woman, eyes sparkling.

"First test: simple."

Mimic pulled a map from his bag.

One sheet multiplied hundreds-fold, flying to examinees.

"Reach second test site. Means irrelevant."

Ifrin checked: plain map, circled spots.

Issue: unknown current position.

"Not one goal. Nine total. Go."

Mimic vanished into mist post-announcement.

"Ifrin!"

"Gah! Geez, you scared me."

Ifrin glared at Kariksel behind her.

"Haha, sorry. Team up?"

"...Team?"

Ifrin scanned. No Sylvia—different batch.

"Sure, whatever."

"Um~ excuse me~ Mind if I join too~?"

Clear, drowsy voice late. Ifrin eyed her suspiciously.

"Who're you? Pitch yourself."

"Ah, um, I'm... Mayho! New to magic, but lucky enough for promo exam!"

"From where?"

"Yu—Yuren, no, Leok Kingdom~"

"...Yuren or Leok?"

"Leok Kingdom~"

Grinning.

Ifrin crossed arms, pondered, nodded.

"Fine. I'm Ifrin. This is Kariksel."

"Nice to meet you."

"Yay~ Thanks~ Won't be dead weight, promise!"

Ifrin teamed with Kariksel and Mayho.

......I watched it all via magic glass.

"All good?"

Ruina asked, coffee in hand—chased me from hall.

"Staying long?"

"Nah, leaving today. Monitor via slate."

Macqueen rep Ruina waved her acrylic.

"Why, boss? Sticking around?"

Sly question, foxlike eye-crinkles.

"No."

"Right, you're proctor too?"

"No duties yet."

Written instructions received—follow them.

"Security fine? ~Though who'd touch seventh strongest."

I clicked my tongue.

Seventh strongest. Cringe every time.

Clink!

Ruina finished coffee, checked pocketwatch, set cup down.

"Ah, airship time. Bye, boss~"

"No."

I stopped her. Ruina turned mid-stride.

"Changed my mind."

"Huh?"

"Stay."

"...Huh?"

Ruina tilted head.

I repeated.

"I said stay."

"...?"

Ruina's face twisted oddly.

* * *

Meanwhile, Sylvia rode through mist—horse of her Tri-Color.

Clop clop—

Paused to check map.

"...Moving."

Circles shifted from initial spots.

Glitch? Defect? Or goals relocating?

Thought lasted 15 seconds.

"Goals aren't buildings. People."

Sylvia's conclusion.

People move; hence multiples.

Likely second-test proctors.

"Hya."

Gentle tug on reins.

Human targets—no rush. Track slowly.

"..."

Spotted odd box amid vines.

Blinked at it.

Test element?

Dismounted, reached—

"Stop!"

Voice boomed. Sylvia startled, turned.

"Who."

Woman and man through mist.

"Hi, Miss Sylvia? I'm Rayleigh. This is Dozmu."

"..."

"Told you to stop 'cause it's a Mimic. Box-shaped beast. See?"

Rayleigh fired fireball.

Kieeeek—! Box screamed, sprouted legs, fled.

"...Clever bugger. Don't feel bad—even geniuses miss it without experience."

Sylvia nodded. Close call.

"I know you, Rayleigh."

"Me? How?"

"Red Garnet adventurers."

Rayleigh beamed, touched.

"Thanks~ We are kinda hot now. Whew!"

"Why Soda exam."

"~Still Soda. Botched first try bad—can't climb. Retaking. Same for this guy, Dozmu."

Rayleigh smiled, approached.

"Wow~ Tri-Color horse? Amazing. But... Miss Sylvia."

"Yes."

"We spotted map oddities comparing ours? Need two+ for cross-check... Mind showing? Already matched with Dozmu's."

Rayleigh twirled hair. Dozmu yawned, disinterested.

"Sure."

Sylvia offered her map.

—That instant.

Yawning Dozmu snatched it first; they bolted at light speed.

Dududududu—

Sylvia stared blankly as they vanished.

"..."

Too sudden—unimaginable. No clue how to react.

"Come back."

Squeezed-out words.

Only rustling mist.