Admission Exam (2)

"Heh heh heh… Hey, you see that kid?"

"Number 188? Pfft. That little brat?"

"Is he even the same age as us? Even being generous, he looks about thirteen."

In the practical exam waiting room of the Astel Imperial Academy, hundreds of examinees filled the space — and one figure stood out among them all.

Black hair. A small frame. A face that looked far younger than his peers.

No matter how kindly you tried to look at him, he didn't look fifteen. Thirteen, at best. Of course people's eyes were drawn to him.

The Astel Imperial Academy. The finest educational institution in the empire. The examinees gathered here to earn a place within its walls were, for the most part, prodigies who had trained in swordsmanship or magic since childhood. Some were already heirs to knightly houses. Others came from renowned mage lineages.

And into a place like that, this boy had come — with that tiny body — to take the Combat Faculty exam.

"He's gonna fight a golem looking like that?"

"Won't even last the first hit. He'll go flying."

"Isn't that completely unfair? The academy's age limit is fifteen, right?"

"Yeah…? Fifteen-year-old minimum?"

"I give him five seconds."

"What?"

"Five seconds after the golem moves, he's going down."

"Come on, it's an academy exam. Five seconds is way too short."

"Fine. Ten seconds."

"Deal. Three gold on it."

On one side of the room, a sneering wager was already underway. But everyone was thinking the same thing.

That child was in danger.

The Combat Faculty practical exam was not a simple show of strength. The combat golem prepared by the academy was equipment designed to evaluate incoming students — and it was not an opponent any ordinary student could take lightly.

"Still…"

A girl standing off to the side spoke carefully.

"I just hope he doesn't get badly hurt."

At that moment —

The announcement rang through the room. Instantly, every gaze in the waiting room swung toward one place.

"Huh? It's the little brat's turn."

The boy rose from his seat without a word. He didn't react to the stares or the whispers around him. He simply walked, slowly, toward the center of the testing grounds.

Then the iron doors opened, revealing a vast arena beyond.

On the opposite side, a single iron golem — its frame etched with countless magic circuits — slowly rose to its feet.

Thoom.

Thoom.

Every time that massive body shifted, the floor shuddered.

"Whoa…"

Someone let out an involuntary gasp. Knowing that thing was what you had to fight would put most people on edge.

But that boy was different. He simply looked at the golem, calm as anything.

"We bet on how many seconds he lasts, right?"

"Yeah."

"I'm on ten."

"I'm on three."

The students watched, grinning.

And then —

In that instant —

KRAAAAAAANG!!!

An explosion tore through the air. A violent shockwave swept across the testing grounds. Dust blotted out the view. In the spectator stands, no one spoke a word.

"…"

"…"

A moment later, the dust slowly settled.

And everyone saw it.

The fallen golem.

A massive hole had been punched clean through the iron golem's chest. And standing in front of it, as if nothing had happened at all, was one small boy.

"…"

"…"

"…What?"

Someone muttered blankly.

"What… did I just see?"

The people who had been laughing moments ago. The ones who had been worried. None of them could say a word.

A few minutes earlier.

"Record measurement begins the moment combat with the golem starts!"

Before the exam began, the proctor had repeated the same explanation to every examinee.

"The golem does not move first. Combat begins the moment an examinee displays the will to attack!"

Put simply: the moment you prepared to fight, the exam started.

I had been watching the other examinees take their turns from one corner of the waiting room. At first, I'd just been killing time. I had to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wait for my turn anyway, and the practical exam was ultimately just about smashing one golem.

But after watching a few of them, my thoughts shifted a little.

They're having a harder time than I expected.

Right in front of me, a male student dove and rolled across the floor, dodging the massive golem's fist.

CRAAASH!!

A fist of solid steel pulverized the arena floor. A short cry of awe burst from the surrounding stands. That was a genuinely dangerous attack.

"Number 124. Well done."

"I yield! I yield!"

"Number 156. Withdrawal. Fail."

"Hah… hah…"

"Number 172. Record: twelve minutes, ten seconds."

The golem was strong, no question. Powerful. Heavily armored.

But still.

Something's off, though.

I kept watching the other examinees fight. Some swung swords. Some used magic. Some set traps. But most of them followed a similar pattern.

The golem moved first.

They dodged and attacked. Got blocked. Dodged again. And gradually wore themselves out.

Why?

I kept observing the golem's movements, searching for the reason. And before long, I figured it out.

Ah.

It didn't take long to find the answer.

Killing intent.

The golem wasn't simply reacting to being attacked. It was sensing the opponent's will.

The desire to bring it down. Hostility directed at it. The resolve to begin combat.

The moment it detected those things, the golem recognized you as an enemy and moved.

So then — what if you showed no hostility at all?

If I play this right, I can one-shot it.

And then —

My turn had come. I stood up and threw on the issued equipment without much care, then headed for the testing grounds.

A colosseum-like space rising in grand scale. Beyond the rectangular arena spread across its center, a massive iron golem was slowly rising to its feet with a dull, grinding sound.

I focused mana into my eyes. And there, deep inside the golem's chest — a mana stone about the size of a fist came into view.

Just as I thought.

The core. Destroy that, and it was over.

I'd fought golems to death and back in the Tower.

All right. Now all I had to do was completely suppress my killing intent. I slowly exhaled.

And then —

Every sensation in my body. Every emotion. Every shred of will. I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pressed them all down perfectly.

I walked as if nothing were wrong — like someone out for a stroll.

One step. Another step.

The golem didn't move. Maybe it thought I was exam staff. Or maybe it simply felt no threat from me at all. It just stood there, watching me.

Before I knew it, I was a meter away. I slowly raised the edge of my hand.

And then —

In that instant, the golem's eyes flared.

But it was already too late.

KRAAAANG!!!

My hand drove straight through the golem's chest. Accompanied by the sound of the mana core inside shattering to pieces, the massive iron golem froze in place.

And then —

That day, the highest record of the Astel Imperial Academy practical exam was set — a legendary mark that would never be broken.

In one corner of the spectator stands, the seats occupied by the Combat Faculty professors of the Astel Imperial Academy carried an atmosphere entirely different from moments before.

Until just now, the professors had been watching the examinees' combats as usual, evaluating each by their own standards. Some excelled in the fundamentals of swordsmanship. Some displayed stable mana control. Others stood out for their judgment under pressure.

What the academy wanted was not simply strong people. In the extreme ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠conditions of combat — how efficiently could you use your power, and how calmly could you make decisions? That was the most important criterion the Combat Faculty demanded of its incoming students.

But just now, something had happened that shook that very standard to its core.

"Did you see that?"

One professor spoke in a low voice. His gaze was still fixed on the center of the arena. The massive iron golem lay collapsed with a hole through its chest, and in front of it stood a small-framed boy with a completely unbothered expression.

"…Yes."

The professor beside him answered briefly. But his voice lacked its usual ease.

"That child."

The professor paused for a moment, then slowly continued.

"Completely erased his killing intent."

The surrounding professors quietly exchanged glances. They all knew what those words meant.

Killing intent was not a simple emotion. Anyone who had experienced real combat knew that domain. The will to bring an opponent down. The pressure that leaked out unconsciously in a life-or-death moment. No matter how hard you tried to hide it, completely eliminating it was impossible.

Even knights who had swung a sword their entire lives leaked a faint trace of killing intent right before combat. That was normal.

But that boy had been different. The golem hadn't moved — from the very beginning to the final instant. As if it had judged that the being in front of it had no intention of attacking, it showed no reaction whatsoever.

"No."

One professor slowly shook his head.

"He didn't erase it."

Another professor looked ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at him with a question in his eyes.

"Then what exactly did he do?"

The professor was silent for a moment, then answered while looking at the boy in the center of the arena.

"He made it as if it had never existed in the first place."

In that instant, the air around them grew heavy.

"…Is that even possible?"

Someone muttered, as if struggling to believe it. Hiding killing intent and making your very presence impossible to sense were entirely different domains.

Suppressing killing intent was a matter of willpower — controlling your own emotions and not revealing your intentions to the opponent. But what that child had shown was not on that level.

"That wasn't simple suppression."

One professor said quietly.

"He controlled the combat will itself."

The professors said nothing. Combat always began in the mind. The will to bring an opponent down. The instinct to survive. Those things moved the body, stirred the mana, and created technique.

But that boy had regulated the starting point itself. He had completely pressed down even the desire to fight — until the moment he needed it.

And in the necessary moment — just once — he had detonated all of it.

"…Is that level possible at his age?"

One professor murmured low.

"No matter how gifted a child is, that is the domain of experience."

Countless battles. Countless moments of life and death. A realm you could only reach by repeatedly enduring situations where the slightest wavering would cost you your life.

And yet that boy, outwardly, looked like a child who had only just begun learning the sword.

"Where on earth did he learn that?"

No one could answer the question. Then one professor chuckled softly.

"Fascinating."

"Fascinating?"

"Think about it."

The professor looked at the number stamped on the record board. 0.1 seconds.

"That child isn't simply fast."

A moment later —

"He finished it before the opponent even started the fight."

The professors looked once more toward the center of the arena. The massive golem. And the small boy standing before it. On the surface, a completely mismatched combination.

But just now, everyone had seen it — what was hidden inside that small body.

"If that child really is fifteen…"

One professor continued quietly.

"This year's academy is going to get quite noisy."