The Potential of an Obscured Star

The End-of-Term Evaluation had drawn to a close, and for two straight days, the two professors who had issued the instructions and watched over the students meticulously tallied up the scores.

"Grading this mess is taking years off my life. What kind of test are we even supposed to come up with for the Start-of-Semester Evaluation alongside the entrance ceremony?"

"Still, Jake, be glad you at least had the students you personally drilled. The aristocratic brats belonging to the Grand Duchy look far worse than those from the Empire. The future looks positively pitch-black, I must say."

"Tsk... Can't even deny that, can I?"

Though they hadn't received the slightest hint, the students of Class D and Class E had thrown everything into the trial, just as Professor Jake had instructed. To reach the coveted goal of class advancement, they had held their ground against torrential downpours and raging mudslides, enduring until the very end.

"How on earth did this lot end up in the upper tier, while those over there were relegated to the bottom? I genuinely cannot fathom it."

A staggering sixty percent of the submitted examination sheets had earned marks no better than failing grades. Muniherr had been on the verge of burning the entire stack to cinders just so he wouldn't have to look at them, but Professor Jake's frantic intervention had managed to stay his hand.

The remaining forty percent comprised first- and second-year students who had either been forced to withdraw despite pouring out their absolute best, or who had gritted their teeth through sheer bloody-minded stubbornness to finish the test, injuries be damned. Fundamentally, because they had taken the End-of-Term Evaluation with utter seriousness, they had genuinely sought to discern the underlying intent behind the trial.

In Muniherr's eyes, these students fell within an acceptable margin of normalcy—examinees worthy of being folded into the lower-middle tiers at the very least.

They could be divided into three distinct groups.

The first consisted of those who accurately took stock of their own physical state and promptly declared their withdrawal rather than pushing themselves past their breaking point. Though instructors had occasionally needed to step in and halt the trial for those on the verge of collapsing from sheer exhaustion, this sensible bunch had been in the minority. The sheer hunger for promotion and the raw tenacity demonstrated by the students of Classes D and E were nothing short of remarkable.

"If all our troops simply knew their own limits, battlefield casualties would drop dramatically. Even these ones comfortably hit the average benchmark."

"They worked their asses off in their own way. By the way, are you placing them in Class C?"

"Hardly. Since that rabble of failures is being dumped straight into Class F, Class D will become the new baseline average going forward. We need to narrow the performance gap."

"Good grief, Muniherr... You're hatching terrifying ideas again."

"Any student who bands together and actually tries to accomplish something in conditions like that is already above average."

The second group encompassed those who joined forces in grueling adversity to compensate for one another's shortcomings and navigate the crisis together. Just as Professor Jake had stressed time and again, when life and death hung in the balance—not merely during combat against demonic beasts—strength in numbers invariably held the upper hand.

For a solitary student to pit themselves against the raw fury of nature was practically impossible. All the more so for someone incapable of properly channeling magic. Yet when two stood united, each could lighten the other's burden, and when three banded together, breathing room could finally be carved out.

"These ones cleanly claim the upper bracket. The gap seems more or less closed."

"...And what will you do about the Start-of-Semester Evaluation?"

"Rest easy. I have plans."

The third group was made up of those who not only grasped the core essence of the trial, but handled every unfolding, unpredictable crisis with remarkable composure. Michel, Erika, Senia, Goden, Ronelion, Ophelia, Talon, Monia, and their peers. Most of them matched the names Muniherr had jotted down beforehand on his personal watch-list.

"They drafted a topographical map, did they? These two clearly reign supreme among the second-years."

"Oh, bullseye! Sharp eye, aren't you? In my book, they're the only second-year pair capable of keeping pace with the current first-years."

"Just as you say, there is virtually nothing to criticize. Outstanding is the only word that comes to mind. Beside them, there are others demonstrating textbook perfection, though their performances aren't entirely devoid of point deductions."

Yet even these exceptional students fell short in the eyes of the exacting Professor Muniherr—not by a measly two percent, but by a glaring twenty. Because the results were far too predictable, a faint air of boredom hung about him.

Having been Muniherr's close friend for twenty years, Professor Jake picked up on this instantly and offered a playful, knowing drawl.

"Who could've possibly sniffed out your hidden intent anyway? You're yawning your head off because no one managed that, aren't you?"

"Well, yes. Though I doubted anyone ever would."

"See? Even back at Hardia, not a single soul cracked it except for that one freak. Your grading criteria are just absurdly harsh."

"Tsk. A professor should be strict, Jake. Left like this, they aren't students—they are merely pampered brats who happened to learn a bit of magic."

"Sigh. You cold-blooded bastard."

With extra points handed out according to each examinee's individual temperament and tactical decisions, it seemed this semester's evaluation scoring would conclude without any true surprises. Or so they thought, until a single outlier blew past all expectations.

"Wait...? What on earth is with this kid...?"

"...I must be seeing things. Jake, didn't I expressly warn you against grading with blatant favoritism just because he's your personal pupil?"

"The hell are you on about, man?! Sure, I graded Stage One myself, but after that, the evaluators rotated out for every single subsequent stage!"

There wasn't a trace of mischief on Jake's face. After twenty years of comradeship, Muniherr knew full well that Jake wasn't the type to rig an evaluation. Even if given every justification in the world, the man held firmly to his moral convictions and drew ironclad boundaries.

Yet no matter how many times Muniherr reread the document, it simply defied all reason.

A single student's evaluation dossier—crammed to the margins with unique observations and heaps of bonus annotations across every single rubric—was turning both professors' minds completely upside down. The examinee hadn't just swept every possible high score in each category; he had raked in additional commendations at every turn.

Unless someone had fully deciphered the fundamental premise and hidden objectives of the trial, an abnormal score of this caliber was an outright impossibility.

Because Muniherr had designed the test entirely on his own, none of the students could have gleaned the grading criteria, let alone caught wind of a leak. It was only natural to wonder if someone had rendered biased judgment midway through the assessment, since human beings were always susceptible to bribery. Yet neither Professor Jake nor the proctors and evaluators dispatched from Hardia could ever be bought. They were elite personnel hand-selected and rigorously vetted by the Imperial Court before being sent, and several even owed personal debts of gratitude to Muniherr himself. Suspecting foul play was entirely baseless.

"First, let us summon every single proctor and stage evaluator for questioning. Nothing like this has ever occurred, even in the Empire."

"Ugh, this is infuriating! If only we had a mana recording sphere left running... Hey, Muniherr, I swear on my life it wasn't me! Say what you want about me, but I'm dead serious about exam fairness!"

"...I understand, so shut your mouth."

An unprecedented anomaly was unfolding: a student from Class E might make an astronomical leap straight into Class A, jumping from the very bottom of the hierarchy directly to the pinnacle. While the Start-of-Semester Evaluation still loomed ahead, if this student repeated such a performance then... the entire landscape would shift completely.

There is no need to jump to hasty conclusions.

Naturally, Lebrant Academy had its own share ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of students hailed as rising stars. Yet a thrilling thought relentlessly gnawed at the back of Muniherr's mind: what if a long-hidden supernova was finally piercing through the shadows to reveal its brilliance?

He had no definitive proof just yet. However, once the Start-of-Semester Evaluation concluded, he would know beyond a shadow of a doubt. The single individual who had remained concealed in obscurity might very well be an incomparably magnificent supernova.

And the instructor who had once recognized that blinding brilliance and personally trained him was, even without the memories of a bygone past, gazing toward that very same star.

There was once a boy who frequented only the Mana Training Room. With distinctive jet-black hair that made him impossible to overlook, he was a lad who threw himself headlong against the unyielding tide of unfairness. A boy who had tasted bitter humiliation time after time at the hands of a girl with grey-white hair, who cast her spells with an utterly impassive face. It was Junon.

And recently, word had reached Senia that this very same Junon was now making regular visits to the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Physical Training Room.

She had long abandoned the notion of questioning him directly. Her past attempts to provoke a reaction when he ignored her inquiries had overstepped the line, and she knew she had been in the wrong. Since he had openly expressed his displeasure, Senia had promised to back off and apologized. But that didn't mean she was forbidden from digging into the matter on her own.

"Why on earth is he visiting the Physical Training Room so often?"

Senia was a vanguard—specifically, an offensive melee frontline fighter who engaged directly with her physical body, meaning she naturally had far more business in the Physical Training Room than the Mana Training Room. Junon, however, was an attack-intercepting vanguard. Theoretically speaking, unlike Senia, his operational role demanded far more time honing mana reinforcement in the Mana Training Room.

"Could conditioning the physical body actually offer more practical benefit?"

When facing ranged mages like Sylvia, was raw physical stamina truly the decisive factor? It was certainly plausible. As an offensive vanguard who relied on blade mastery, a rigorously trained physique was an indispensable asset. The recent End-of-Term Evaluation had driven that reality home. In the midst of freezing rain and tearing landslides, what good was a weapon? It had served as nothing more than a glorified walking cane.

Senia arrived at the firm conclusion that building physical endurance had been the secret catalyst behind Junon's sudden growth.

"Right. The Start-of-Semester Evaluation is still on the horizon."

She harbored no illusions of receiving an exceptional score on her End-of-Term Evaluation. After all, she had been trapped in circumstances where her combat prowess was useless, reduced to receiving aid from others. Yet the Start-of-Semester Evaluation remained. If the upcoming trial turned out to be just as bizarre and shrouded in mystery, building whatever physical endurance she could in this short window of time was the wisest move.

Having rented a private chamber within the Physical Training Room, she was just about to follow the routine manual when—

Knock, knock.

Someone tapped politely on the chamber door.

Who could possibly come looking for her here?

"You're Senia from Class 2-D, correct? There ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠is something I would like to ask. Do you have a moment to spare?"

The feminine voice outside was completely unfamiliar. Standing right outside the private room Senia had booked for her workout was a peer whom no second-year student could ever fail to recognize: the academy's supreme honor student.

"Michel...?"