Entrance Exam (3)

I thought about it.

Why the hell are these two fighting?

And then a second thought followed.

We're heading to the exam hall anyway. Even if they try to throw down, someone's going to stop them.

There was no universe in which they'd come all this way just to skip the test and settle things one-on-one.

"I said I'll protect Argal. Who the hell are you to tell me what to do?"

"You don't understand a thing. The person you claim you'll protect is—"

"That's enough."

The instant I stepped in, Raeli and the girl both turned to look at me. Raeli's gaze carried something like respect. The other girl's eyes, more than anything, shone at me with an almost startling brightness.

They'd been winding themselves up toward a real fight, and the second I said one word they just... folded?

The whiplash between boiling and freezing left me briefly stunned, but I did what needed doing.

"What's your name?"

"Franc Lurankis."

"Alright, Franc. Apologize to Raeli."

So that was her name. Franc.

Either way, she'd been the one to start it, so I told her to apologize — and she did it with almost unsettling cleanliness.

"I'm sorry. Raeli. I was out of line."

"...What the hell is she even trying to pull."

The apology was so tidy that Raeli's anger visibly went cold. Strictly speaking, Franc hadn't even said anything that terrible. From the outside, Raeli had overreacted.

And I had a pretty good idea why Franc was acting this way.

She'd mistaken me for a mage who knew the Extreme.

I kept it short. No more, no less.

"Not now. Later. We'll talk."

"Understood."

Franc looked delighted just to have secured a chance at a conversation. That was how precious the Extreme was to a mage — a value no amount of gold could buy.

The argument ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had drawn some eyes, but thanks to me cutting it short, nothing major came of it.

"Hahh. What the hell is that bitch's problem."

Raeli still hadn't cooled off. So I took her hand. She jumped, then squeezed back hard.

...She's going to crush my hand.

Maybe I shouldn't have done that.

Following the examiner's guidance, we filed into the Academy.

"This apparatus is for measuring your abilities."

A massive device stood alone in the hall, built like a stage unto itself — a platform that could measure the raw strength you could produce in a single burst, your mana, and more. At the examiner's instruction, students climbed onto it one by one, and the basic measurements began.

"Strength C, Stamina B, Agility C, Mana D."

The scale ran from F all the way up to S-Grade, and the machine seemed to read a subject's condition and spit out the result. Most people hovered somewhere between D and B.

There were a lot of examinees. The whole process was long, and more than a little tedious.

Which made the sudden gasps stand out all the more.

"Whoa."

"Is that the first S-Grade?"

The face standing on the platform was one I knew well.

The Sword Star.

Blue hair like a waterfall in full flood. A pair of green eyes. A bastard who lived off the taste of his own greatness.

Come to think of it, anyone with "Star" tacked onto their title had a personality that made you lose your appetite. The Spear Star, the Sword Star — they were cut from the same cloth. The Sword Star at least put on a show of manners, so he was more popular than the Spear Star, but the inside of him was filthier by far.

"Hmph."

Look at him nodding, like those numbers were nothing more than his due.

Most people, faced with someone that far above them, would feel jealousy or spite. But the Sword Star was so thoroughly superior — starting with his face and running all the way down — that what people felt instead was awe. And his most terrifying quality wasn't even those stats. It was his swordsmanship. A Star who had already reached Swordmaster had no reason to put any weight on a few good numbers.

The ones who followed with impressive results were, notably, the Spear Star and Franc. The Spear Star scored A across the board. Franc pulled an S-Grade in mana.

Then it was Raeli's turn.

"I'm going, okay?"

"Go ahead."

She looked a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠little tense, but she climbed onto the platform, drew a breath, and checked the numbers on the screen. The examiner read them out after her.

More than good enough. But Raeli's face said she was disappointed.

Had she been hoping for even a single S-Grade? That felt like reaching a little too far. Those were the ranks reserved for the monsters who would one day join the Hero's party and tear through the world.

She came down off the platform.

"Nngh. That's a little disappointing."

"Those are plenty high."

"Well, yeah, but..."

She sat with the letdown for a moment. Then something seemed to occur to her, and she looked at me.

"But Argal, aren't you worried?"

"About what?"

"If they measure your stats, there's nothing that's going to come out looking good."

She wasn't wrong. I could put a lot of different kinds of force to use, but almost none of it showed on the surface. I kept my Magi stored in a dagger, and the Origin of the Star — the relic I'd only just acquired — obviously wasn't going to register on a physical measurement.

If I had to guess, I'd come out F across the board.

"That might happen."

"If you're fine with that, then okay, but what I'm worried about is—"

"Next examinee!"

Raeli tried to say more, but the examiner's voice calling my name cut her off.

I stood, walked up, and took my place on the platform.

The result appeared in short order, as expected. The examiner stared at it like he didn't trust his own eyes, checked it several times, and finally spoke.

A murmur rolled through the hall. The numbers were so low the examiner started fiddling with the machine, as if it had to be a malfunction. The other examinees started talking about me.

"All stats F? Why did he even apply for the practical? Is he trying to die in there?"

"That's the absolute floor. At that point..."

"He's going to be dead weight during the exam, isn't he?"

A body this frail. Maybe that was the downside of a vessel that held neither mana nor Magi — a body with nothing in it at all. I looked laughably weak.

I stepped down off the platform under stares thick with contempt, pity, and mockery.

Raeli turned to me with worry written all over her face.

"Argal, um... are you okay?"

"Is there a reason I wouldn't be?"

Looks like that didn't mean a thing. My real ability wasn't going anywhere. I'd already lived through hatred far heavier than this — loathing, hostility, condemnation. Compared to what I'd received as a commander of the Demon King's army, as Argal the Immortal, this was nothing.

And even these stares wouldn't last.

A brighter light had already arrived to swallow the dark.

Brilliant blonde hair. A pair of bored blue eyes. I had no idea what she was thinking, but she stood motionless on the platform and took a perfect score as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The examinees erupted.

"That's our Hero!"

"Now that's a savior."

"You'd need to be at least that strong to take down the Demon King!"

She stepped down from the platform without a flicker of emotion, as if none of it had anything to do with her. Like a brief storm blowing through, the crowd's attention swung entirely to the Hero.

I stayed where I was. Raeli watched my face, looking like she had no idea what she was supposed to do.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't just... sit ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠here. This is too much."

To her, it must have looked cruel. I'd been mocked for scoring F across the board, and then the Hero had walked up right after me and taken S in everything. Could two images have been more perfectly opposed? She was worried I'd been hurt.

I set a hand on top of her head.

"You don't need to worry."

There was no reason for me to be wounded here, and no reason for her to fret over it.

Raeli opened her mouth a few times, closed it again, and finally just pressed her lips shut.

With my hand on her head like this, the comparison came unbidden. If Besia's hair was a little soft and curly, then Raeli's was stiff, straight hair, wasn't it?

"We'll be moving on to the next portion."

The testing wasn't over. Confirming stats alone wasn't enough — they needed to see how we'd hold up in a real fight. The examiner led us to a new location and explained as we walked.

"This time, you will face a monster in one-on-one combat."

Inside a transparent barrier, a single enormous magic circle had been laid into the floor. I knew what it was on instinct. A summoning circle for monsters — something close kin to a teleportation array.

"Monsters? I've killed plenty."

"I took first place at every hunting tournament I ever entered."

The examiner's voice cut across the swaggering nobles like a warning.

"Let me be clear. The monsters summoned here are not on the level of goblins or orcs. The purpose of this test is not to slay the creature. It is to survive."

A statement that grim was enough to put a dent even in the confident ones. People started eyeing each other, silently volunteering someone else to go first, until the examinee sitting at the front of the line — the one right ahead of me, as it happened — stepped forward.

"I'll take the test."

"Yes. Go on in."

The moment he pushed through the barrier, the great magic circle flared to life and began to summon.

A hulking monster. Hideous slabs of muscle. A massive horn jutting from its skull.

Anyone with eyes could see it was a demon.

"Uh...?"

Even the student who'd gone in first hadn't expected something like that to come crawling out. That single startled syllable was all he managed.

— GUOOOOOOOOOHHH!!

The hall filled with confusion and horror. I'd heard the Academy's practical exam was brutal, but never that it was this.

Eyes turned to the examiner, demanding an explanation. He gave them one.

"In the Northern Region, monsters and demons are pouring through without end. The Swordmaster is holding the line, but he cannot do it alone. All of you, too, are fated to be deployed north — to fight those enemies yourselves."

To win, you had to fight monsters and demons. Which meant our opponents here could only be demons.

"Before the all-out war that is coming, you will spend your entire time at the Academy learning every method there is to fight demons and win."

In other words: a crisis was coming for the kingdom, and they intended to forge us into thoroughly trained soldiers before it arrived.

Most of the examinees looked like they were hearing this for the first time. The high nobles only nodded, heavy and unsurprised, as if they'd known all along. They must have kept the situation in the north quiet for the sake of the kingdom's stability.

— GUUOOOOOOHHH!

Not that the demon inside the barrier was sitting still waiting for the speech to finish. The student who'd already gone in didn't try to match it blow for blow. He put everything into staying alive, darting and circling, until he finally couldn't hold anymore and threw himself back out through the barrier.

Not a result that looked good by any measure. How long you lasted. Whether you managed to land anything on the demon while you lasted. What the demon did to you in return. Those three criteria, combined, produced the grade.

"This isn't fair! Just one more time—"

"You were the first to attempt it, so I will grant you one more opportunity."

At least they weren't cutting people down cold. The student went back in as if the first round had only been nerves, and this time he came out with a better score. He strode out through the barrier with his shoulders squared — a little banged up, but full of the pride of having stood his ground against a demon.

Beating a demon that was well beyond an ordinary student's level was never going to be easy. In an arena with no terrain and nowhere to hide, lasting at all meant crossing blades with the thing — and that meant being ready to die. This test, I suspected, was designed to find out how much of your life you were willing to put on the line in front of a demon. Raw stats and raw power meant nothing if you were a coward. A coward would never beat a demon.

The mood inside the hall sank into something dark. Courage in the face of a demon was rare even on a good day — and this one wasn't merely strong. It was overwhelmingly so.

I was next in line anyway, so I started to stand.

Someone cut in front of me.

"If I kill that demon, what score do I receive?"

The Sword Star rose to his feet. The man with the second-best stats after the Hero, announcing that he intended to put the demon down.

"Without quibbling over the finer numbers — a comprehensive grade of S."

"Is that so? Then."

Shiiing.

He drew his sword and started walking, unhurried, toward the magic circle.

Then he stopped dead. A strange little smile pulled at his mouth, and he turned it on me.

"No. I suppose yielding the order would be the proper thing."

The test was supposed to go in seating order. That was the standard. I'd been about to go first anyway.

His intent was obvious. The Hero had looked all the more dazzling for appearing right after someone who'd scored F across the board. The Sword Star wanted ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the same contrast for himself.

"How about you go first?"

...Every last one of these bastards with a Star in their name is trash.

But you've got it all wrong, Sword Star.

Tearing that demon apart wouldn't take me more than ten seconds.