Fabrication Contest (1)
The Fabrication Department's contest was divided by grade levels for the sake of fairness. It was only natural that second-years outperformed the brand-new first-years, and the graduating third-years were in a league of their own compared to the second-years. And so, Monday had been for the first-years, Tuesday for the second-years. Now, on Wednesday, it was the third-years' turn.
"Heave-ho."
I hoisted up the box. It was filled with all the materials we'd need for the contest, preserved with magic to prevent any damage.
"Senior, I've got everything packed."
"Nothing missing?"
"Nope, all accounted for. What about you, Senior?"
"All set."
"Then let's head out."
The contest started at 10 a.m. It was only 8 now, but it was better to arrive early and get everything prepared. We left the workshop and made our way to the venue.
That's when I noticed Ruina Lindel's backpack. It was stuffed to bursting with alchemy tools, haphazardly crammed in and looking like it might split open at any moment.
"Senior, don't you think you've packed a bit too much?"
"No. Need it all."
Ruina shook her head. Well, if she said so, who was I to argue? My alchemy skills still couldn't hold a candle to hers.
"Still, it must be heavy. Want some help?"
"I'm good. Did it myself last year too."
She turned down the offer. Fine by me if you're okay with it...
But something about it tugged at me. It was hard to just leave it be. Ruina was tiny—her limbs slender, her height barely reaching my chest. Hard to believe she was turning of age next year. Seeing that petite frame burdened with a bag twice her size... it was pitiful? No, more like I felt like I was the one tormenting her.
Of course, I was lugging a box that blocked my view too, so we probably looked equally ridiculous. But no matter how I tried to shake it off, the thought lingered. By the time we reached the venue, I was feeling a little uneasy.
We arrived at the venue and were shown to our assigned room by a staff member. Nothing much to do here—just sit tight until they called us to the main hall. It was all for smooth operations and participant safety.
The wait was boring, so I glanced at Ruina, who was sitting quietly. She was munching on cake—probably just because she wanted to, not for any pre-contest energy boost. That was my take, anyway.
I asked her as she chewed. "Senior, anything I need to watch out for during the contest?"
She swallowed her dessert and answered. "No. Just do your usual."
"That's really all?"
I double-checked. This was my first time entering a contest after learning alchemy. I wasn't that nervous for other events, but this felt different.
"Don't worry. Mistakes are fine."
"Then I'll trust you, Senior."
She nodded. Then she stared at me for a moment before saying, "Want some cake?"
"If you're offering, absolutely."
I snatched the cake she handed over. Was it the nerves? It went down surprisingly easy. Unexpected. I'd lived a life far removed from tension, but this was a novel sensation. I let out a small sigh of admiration.
As we nibbled on cake together, a staff member entered. "Get ready."
"Got it, Senior."
I called to her. "Yeah, let's go."
We picked up our box and backpack and left the waiting room, following the staff down the hall. Unlike other events, the fabrication contest was held indoors. Fabrication was sensitive to even tiny things like dust, so it took place in a massive building layered with purification magic.
The venue lived up to Tianis Academy's reputation. The first floor, where the contest unfolded, had workbenches tailored to each student's specialty—state-of-the-art workshops at a glance. In the back, behind the judges' seats, the prizes were on display. The tallest one in the center was a faded bracelet. I knew instantly it was the grand prize.
The second floor was packed with thousands of spectators gazing down. Mostly nobles and merchants, with the occasional robed figure or casual onlooker. Familiar faces caught my eye too—like Brand, manager of the Imperial Capital branch of Orange Forge. He'd come to watch.
Then, at the edge of my vision, two more familiars: Rana and Elraim. They'd shown up after I mentioned entering the contest. Our eyes met, and Rana waved wildly, shouting something I couldn't make out amid the crowd and distance. I waved back casually, as if to say I saw them.
As we moved on, a strange pressure settled over me. The fierce determination to win, the burning drive to prove themselves—it was palpable. Three hundred students' passion and ambition converged, crashing down like a wave.
Thud. I set the box on our workbench and muttered, "Everyone's got insane focus."
My senior eyed me steadily before speaking. "Nervous?"
"Do I look it?"
"Yeah."
She nodded slightly. I'd tried to hide it, but apparently it showed.
"Anyone who isn't nervous in this atmosphere is the weird one."
Maybe because I wasn't staked my career on this craft. Up close, their ambition burned fiercer than I'd imagined—and knowing I was part of it added fuel.
"Why nervous?"
Ruina's voice cut in. I met her gaze.
"You're better than them. Don't get swept up. You're my proud junior."
"......"
Her words made me scan the hall. Truth be told, there was no reason to feel intimidated. I wasn't competing solo; I was just assisting Ruina. My heart steadied. I thanked her. "Thanks."
"Yeah."
She started unpacking her tools. I sorted the box too—opening the lid carefully to preserve the magic, arranging materials by usage order.
The contest announced the theme in advance, so she'd briefed me on the sequence and steps. "You'll use this, I'll handle that one..."
We split materials since I'd be using alchemy to assist mid-process. By the time we finished, she'd laid out all her tools—and even separated mine.
Moments later, the contest began.
"Good luck."
"You too."
We got to work.
"Who do you think will win this time?"
"Hard to say... First- and second-years are still growing, so unpredictable, but third-years are mostly polished."
"You never know. It's been a year since last contest. Someone might've grown a lot."
A year had passed since the previous one—plenty of time for breakthroughs. The spectators watched the first floor with excited eyes.
Clang! Clang! Bubble bubble, tap tap tap!
Hammer strikes, bubbling liquids, pounding sounds— a symphony of creation that stirred the soul. Some were here purely for investment, but most were industry folks.
"Who do you favor, Mr. Brand?"
A noble asked the dwarf. But Brand scowled. "What do I know about rookies? All the same."
Offensive words, but no one minded. Brand spat curses at mediocrity or critiqued until he stormed out in frustration. He'd bailed early on first-years, lasted through second-years—but with endless profanity. Him sticking around now meant something worth watching.
"More importantly... why's that guy here?"
"Who do you mean?"
"That punk over there. The scoundrel."
Brand jabbed a stubby finger at a student.
"Ah, Kyle Arden, I presume."
"Yeah. Isn't he a knight?"
"Correct."
The noble beckoned a servant, who handed over participant lists. Flipping to page ten, he said, "Ruina Lindel's assistant."
Indeed, Kyle was diligently aiding her.
"But as you say, Mr. Brand, it's odd. Knight Department, no double major."
"He seems awfully skilled in alchemy for a knight."
"If my eyes don't deceive, that's no assistant level."
Onlookers chimed in, stunned.
"Stabilizer here."
"Thanks."
He passed tools at precise timings synced to her moves.
"Adding in three seconds."
"Okay."
Anticipating steps, adding materials spot-on.
"Senior, a slight impurity from the slip-up..."
"Fine."
Even processed materials himself with alchemy. Quick, fluid movements—better than average alchemists. Handling five people's worth solo. And using the same alchemy as Ruina.
"Knight reflexes make sense, but..."
"No word on alchemy training."
"Heard he's been at her workshop a few months, but that skill in so short a time...?"
"Who knows."
Brand interjected. "Arden bloodline ordinary? Could have alchemy talent."
They pondered. Arden lineage wasn't sword-exclusive; sometimes other gifts emerged. Not impossible.
"If that's real skill, a monster's born."
"Yeah. That duo might take it."
"Judging'll be fun."
Spectators nodded. Every student poured heart into premium materials, but none shone like them. Even judges watched closely.
After over three grueling hours of battle(?), the bell rang, ending the contest. Now, judging.
Twenty judges rose and approached the students.
"Why this method?"
"Heat too low—core crumbled."
"Looks good outside. Inside's rotten."
Harsh critiques. It was practice, after all.
But not all criticism. "Well made. Keep at it."
"Close. A bit more polish here, perfect."
Praise for high quality. Even to me, their works impressed—likely nerves holding them back.
About thirty minutes later, our turn. Three hundred entrants—half the third-years—but still a crowd. Finally, judges arrived.
Seeing Ruina's finished product on our bench...
"Hmm..."
"This is..."
"Ho ho..."
They fell silent, only gasps of admiration escaping.