The Class Placement Exam (4)

The meeting room of the Academy was thick with fear and confusion.

It was the Headmaster, Clifford, who broke the silence.

"…Where is Nemesis?"

"Conducting an inspection of the facilities, in case there was any collateral damage."

"And?"

"No students were caught in it, but… the facilities are almost completely destroyed."

Clifford's face stiffened visibly.

"Th-then what do we do now? Thanks to Luid's massive spell, we've run out of monsters to use for the rest of the exam!"

Every now and then, you meet someone with no sense of timing — the kind of person who insists on pointing out that everything is screwed while everyone already knows it's screwed.

The professors' withering stares converged on him. The man who had raised the objection backtracked in a flustered voice.

"D-did I make some kind of mistake…? I-it's just, Luid's magic really is remarkable, isn't it? Honestly, I was in awe."

"Haaah."

At the professor's spectacular lack of tact, Clifford aged ten years on the spot.

If I'd known this would happen, I would have scheduled him for the last slot…

What kind of magic Luid would use to subdue the monsters had been a matter of extraordinary interest.

So the professors had collectively proposed to the Headmaster: 'Let's put Luid first in the order and all watch together.' Clifford, firmly convinced that this was his chance to score a decisive win, had agreed.

And this was the result.

Seventy percent of the Monster Forest in Haemuk Highlands — flattened. Roughly 3,118,000 gold in property damage. And since it was technically monster hunting, the student could not be held liable.

"Oh, heavens."

Clifford swayed with a groan and toppled out of his chair, collapsing to the floor.

"Headmaster!"

"What in the world am I to do next year."

This was, after all, the Headmaster famous throughout the Academy for his stinginess. The professors exchanged wary glances and pretended to shuffle through their documents.

He wouldn't cut our salaries over this… would he?

Please, no. Our research budget was already hanging by a thread this year.

Told you. Never touch a genius.

"That good-for-nothing brat."

In the largest crystal at the head of the room, Luid could be seen looking utterly carefree. Apparently quite pleased with his own spell, he wore a satisfied expression.

Clifford clutched the back of his neck and jabbed a finger toward the image.

"Demand compensation from House Windsor! That was a blatant overreaction! I'd bet my monocle he did it on purpose!"

The tactless professor from before timidly raised a counterpoint.

"Would that be difficult to prove…? After all, unleashing a single overwhelming spell at a troll is the natural approach… Besides, wasn't that one of the body-enhancement modified specimens?"

A troll regenerates the instant its head is severed. The only reliable countermeasure was to obliterate ninety percent of its body in one blow.

"So you'd like to tell me this is my fault, Lord Demonic!"

"A-ah, no! Of course not, sir."

"W-well, rather than that, shouldn't we be drawing up a plan of action quickly?"

At someone's suggestion, the professors' expressions turned grave. This was no time to marvel at Luid's magic and watch the Headmaster clutch his neck.

If things continued like this, the exam would grind to a halt, and there would be no fair placement ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at all.

Headmaster Clifford took a long, deep breath and glared daggers at Luid.

How did such an aberration end up enrolling at my Academy? I don't care that the spell was meant to subdue monsters — that display was nothing but a 'show of force,' plain and simple.

His magical skill, at least, he acknowledged. Wielding magic to that degree required a first-rate mind.

Could Luid possibly have failed to gauge the troll's capabilities? Absolutely not. He had cast that spell deliberately, for spectacle.

It was a grave betrayal of Clifford's magical ethics. Magic must never, ever become an instrument of showing off — it must be wielded justly, rightly, and with purpose.

That was what a true mage was, and the conviction every student at his Academy ought to carry.

"When dawn breaks, pull them out."

Clifford said it calmly. The professors blinked at him in confusion.

"P-pardon?"

"There is no meaning in continuing this exam any further. I won't say it twice. Pull them out."

"…How shall we handle the scores, then?"

Clifford exhaled and dragged a hand down his face, looking thoroughly displeased. But the position of Headmaster did not permit discrimination merely on grounds of 'I don't like it.'

"Hershey Minerva entered as the top-ranked admit. No one will object if she receives the highest marks."

That he singled out Hershey first, unprompted, was the last flicker of Clifford's pride.

"Then what about Luid…?"

Tension rippled through the gathered professors. Clifford scowled with deep distaste and barked.

"Then what! You think I should flunk the lazy brat just because he's made me angry?"

"Eeep! N-no, Headmaster!"

The professors let out a collective breath of relief. Thankfully, Clifford seemed determined to deliver a fair result.

"…That aside, be sure to lodge a formal protest with House Windsor. They're swimming in money — surely they'll top up a donation for their beloved little boy. Use it to cover this quarter's losses."

"A-and the exam itself, sir?"

That was, in truth, the most important question of all.

The Class Placement Exam was not a test held for Luid's benefit alone.

Clifford snapped.

"Can't you figure out even that much on your own!"

Phoenicia flashed a refreshingly sweet smile. She was, after all, the Headmaster's daughter.

"Headmaster, with our dim little minds we simply cannot locate a solution — so would you kindly tell us?"

His daughter's words settled his temper, and Clifford averted his eyes from the professors' stares.

"Ahem. Th-then… put on masks or something and make it work."

Professor or not, an employee was an employee.

Having no choice but to bow to the order, the professors wore mournful expressions.

When something beyond her capacity to process happened, Hershey tended to go a little glassy-eyed.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

This was one of those times. Never in her life had she witnessed magic greater than this.

A spell that summoned a dragon? She had never even heard of such a thing. And he hadn't just summoned that legendary being — he'd wielded it like a bell to ring.

…Yep. Well, he is Luid.

Hershey decided to simply accept it!

Luid was not a person one could measure by ordinary standards.

"My aim was a bit off. I only cleared out innocent trees."

Luid scratched his head. It had manifested far larger than he'd expected.

"But thanks to that, the precious materials are safe. Look at this! It's a 'troll's tendon.' The ankle section, no less!"

Hershey crouched where the troll had stood. Everything else had vanished without a trace, but a portion of the tendon remained intact. It was tough as leather to begin with, and being tucked away in the ankle, it had survived unscathed.

'Nothing from a troll goes to waste' is a saying famous among mages. With their tremendous regenerative power, trolls were prized as magical materials — from their blood on down, every part had its use.

"You can have it."

"E-excuse me?"

"I don't need it."

Luid watched her with a pained squint as she carefully tucked it away like a treasure.

What on earth would anyone do with a monster's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ankle tendon? It looked disgusting, too. He wanted nothing to do with it.

"But—"

"Look, I told you I don't need it. Bother me about it one more time and I'm setting the thing on fire."

Hershey yelped and hid the tendon behind her back.

"From now on, whenever I give you something, you just say 'thank you' and take it. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!"

Having answered like a fresh recruit to the Magic Knights, Hershey stared down at the tendon she'd so cautiously salvaged.

Her hand was smeared black from sifting through the ashes. She didn't spare it a single thought.

Wait… a moment?

The supply of troll tendons was woefully inadequate to the demand. Trolls were formidable in their own right, but more than that, the things were simply hard to find in the first place.

So whenever a 'troll's tendon' came up at auction, the auction hall filled to capacity that day, and fierce bidding wars inevitably broke out.

And by pure chance, Hershey needed one desperately. The crafting of the staff handed down through House Minerva required the 'ankle tendon of a troll slain no more than three days prior' — an absolute necessity.

She had planned to hunt one down only after reclaiming the Phoenix Feather…

So… doesn't that mean I can make the staff now?

Hershey ran her fingers over the tendon in a daze. Right now, at this very moment, every material sat in her own two hands.

"Um…!"

"Yeah?"

"I-it's, um, it's truly shameless of me to bring this up in the middle of an exam, but."

"Go on."

"…I've gathered all the staff materials. W-would it be alright if I made it here?"

Luid nodded without a moment's hesitation.

"Sure, go ahead."

Hershey had lost the staff once before. She was anxious, and since the materials were finally gathered, she wanted to try while she could.

She hurriedly searched out a patch of flat ground — choosing a spot where the warmth of Luid's spell still lingered. Pure mana had pooled there in abundance. If anywhere would take her magic circle well, it was here.

She raised her staff. From this point, she would fuse the 'Phoenix Feather' and the 'troll's ankle tendon' into it.

Hershey began drawing lines without hesitation. An intricate magic circle took shape in moments — swift, yet precise.

Luid stroked his chin as he watched the back of her small head.

So this is a mage?

Watching a magic circle rendered in real time was genuinely fascinating.

About thirty minutes passed.

The circle was complete.

Hershey gasped for breath, drained by the intense concentration.

She placed the Phoenix Feather and the tendon at the apex of the pentagram, rose to her feet, and swept the staff through the air.

"Rune, Archatela."

The moment ancient runes spilled from Hershey's lips, the magic circle flared to life, blazing with emerald light.

The staff lifted from her hand and drifted into the circle's heart. A searing light burst forth, so intense that nothing could be seen within it — then stopped, all at once.

Every material was gone.

And Hershey's magic staff lay charcoal-black, scorched like a dried stick of kindling.

…That wasn't a failure, was it?

Luid eyed her with open suspicion —

but Hershey was beaming.

"It's a complete success. This is just the foundation work."

She held the tightly twisted branch with the utmost care.

"Now I simply imbue it with magic, and it's finished."

"Really? Then you'll have to do it after the exam."

Luid stretched, arching his back. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠That big a spell had apparently made him drowsy.

"Let's go back to sleep."

He had just turned to head back to his spot when—

"…I'd like it if you did it, Luid."

Hershey's face had gone red, as if embarrassed. She pressed the staff to her chest and mumbled.

"I-it's fate, after all. Besides, every single material came to me thanks to you."

"Hmm, I've never actually made a staff before. Wouldn't it be better to leave it to an alchemist?"

A strong swordsman does not necessarily know how to forge a fine sword. Luid pointed that out, and it was perfectly conventional wisdom. Staff-crafting belonged to the alchemist's domain.

But Hershey shook her head. She clutched his sleeve and begged earnestly.

"I'm not asking for performance."

"And if I botch it?"

"The form is already complete, so I can retry as many times as I like. And you're a genius, Luid — it won't come to that."

"I'm telling you, I've never done it. Well… fine, alright. I just pour my mana in, right?"

Hershey cleared her throat.

"It would be even better if you thought of traits that would suit me."

Not a difficult request.

Luid took the staff from her hands.

What should I put in?

His deliberation did not last long.

This was only temporary anyway. Someday he'd hand it over to a proper professional.

So — something befitting a young lady, then.

Pretty over practical.

But then a thought nagged at him.

Aw, come on. This is the work of the genius mage Luid, isn't it?

He'd slip in one small trait as well.

That part, however, would remain a secret from Hershey.

—Shaaaah.

Luid's highly refined mana was drawn into Hershey's staff.

It surged like crashing waves — an overwhelming volume of mana.

Hershey's pale face was washed in blue light. She stared at the staff as though entranced.

—Pop.

The staff drank deep of Luid's mana. He had poured it in imagining two things, and one of those traits manifested immediately.

Unlike an ordinary staff, it glowed with a soft, ambient light. Even its appearance was beautiful. Hershey had never in her life seen a staff of such dignity.

"W-wowww."

Hershey rejoiced over it like a child. A staff that glowed. Any mage who laid eyes on it would burn with envy.

"It's soaked up so much of your mana that it sparkles! Is this your mana, Luid? It's so beautiful…!"

"Close enough."

Hershey hugged the staff tight and asked, curiosity plainly getting the better of her.

"But… what were you thinking of when you imbued it?"

"That's a secret."

"What?"

Hershey's eyes went round.

"Find out for yourself."

Hershey puffed her cheeks in a sulk — but she couldn't hide her joy.

"Thank you. I'll treasure it forever. I love it so, so much."

"You can change it anytime. It's nothing all that impressive."

"I refuse. I'm never changing it."

Unable to contain her fluttering heart, Hershey bustled back and forth around the clearing. It was rather cute. After a long while of that, she stole a glance at Luid and asked,

"Could I… give it a test run?"

"Of course. It's your staff, Hershey."

Just as Hershey smiled brightly and readied a spell—

Luid rubbed his eyes as he accepted his exam report.

Hershey's sheet was crammed full of writing, while his own was conspicuously generous with empty space.

He couldn't have cared less, but since it was in his hands, he gave it a read.