The Entrance Exam (Part 1)

Beep— My wristwatch let out a small chime.

"Time's up already? Alright."

I climbed down from the tree branch, gathered my clothes, and headed back to the dormitory. It was right next door, so no long trek needed. On the way, I spotted Elraim standing at the entrance, diligently swinging her sword. She was just as dedicated to her morning training as I was. I watched her idly for a bit until the alarm chimed again, then returned to my room. After quickly getting ready, I stepped out and started running. As I focused straight ahead, someone fell in beside me before I knew it. Elraim.

On the first day, she'd had that face like, What crazy stunt is this spoiled young master pulling now? But now she kept up effortlessly. And lately, her expression had brightened. Her ruined training routine—thanks to me—had been filled in, leaving her refreshed. We ran and ran some more. The route was familiar now, no hitches. We passed the magic department building and the student council hall, arriving at the knight department building. The whole trip took just one hour.

"Whew, made it quick today too."

In a mere two days, I'd halved my travel time. Thanks to mana-enhanced physical reinforcement. This exceptional body helped a ton too—especially the lung capacity that let me run ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠nonstop. I sat on a bench, wiping sweat as I sank into thought.

At this growth rate, I could push it harder…

I'd budgeted two months to reach a state where I could hold my own for at least an hour in a fight. But after being neglected for so long, my talent was exploding. At this pace, I'd hit the goal in one or two weeks tops. Then it'd be time to really grind.

Was Elraim at Sword Expert Upper around this time? Upper meant solid basics and mature swordsmanship—perfect sparring partner. Lower than mid was too lacking, and all the Masters were professors, hard to ask.

"…Elraim."

"……."

No response when I called her. She didn't even glance my way, staring straight ahead. To her blatant ignoring, I said straight up,

"Starting next week, spar with me on swordsmanship."

"……Pardon?"

A beat-late reaction. She finally realized what I'd said and looked at me.

"…With who?"

"Me."

"The young master with a sword…? Did you take some bad medicine?"

Wow, she sure knows how to talk. Even with my track record, saying it so bluntly took guts.

"Cut the crap. You in or not?"

"I'll… think about it."

With that, I headed into the building.

She'll accept, even if she says that. Her head would be spinning trying to parse my intent, but she'd take the offer. Better than me wandering aimlessly—it'd keep me in one place. Truth be told, I wanted to train at the proper grounds like everyone else. But I couldn't. Blame the community service and the downgraded academy privileges.

Tianis Academy had usage tiers based on skill. Dorms graded by performance, department privileges varied. Not huge discrimination, though. Dorms split into top, upper, mid, lower—but only room size and staff differed. Department perks: magic had cutting-edge labs, crafting had workshops and materials, general had vast libraries, knights had 24/7 state-of-the-art training grounds. Tiers affected usage time only—everyone could access them. Other departments too.

But lowest tier? Different story. Crappy outskirts dorm two hours from central. No academy facilities beyond basics. Blocking those big perks meant they didn't see you as a student. Basically, get out.

That's why I trained at the dorm. Swinging a sword alone wasn't proper practice, though. No one to ask either. Simple reason: I was being ostracized. Some student consensus to ignore Kyle Arden. They treated me like air. No conversations possible. In six days, only Ariel the princess and Rana had talked to me—they were dead serious.

Sigh, stuck chatting only with the leads. Ariel made sense with our connection, but Rana…

Whatever. I can shake it off now. Tomorrow was big Friday. Protagonist's enrollment day, prologue start.

Just hold out till tomorrow. Just tomorrow! I'd live normally. Steel ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠resolve as I entered the lecture hall.

The lecture ended. The professor packed materials and said,

"As you all know, tomorrow's freshman entrance exam day. Not sure who's participating, but give it your all. Show poorly at such an important event…."

Voice dropping ominously, he glared, eyes gleaming. The room went dead silent. Gulps from the intimidated echoed here and there.

"Think of that person as dead this semester."

Threat done, he left. Students didn't—or couldn't—move. Silence shattered into ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠chatter.

"No way we get picked, right?"

"Half of 600… bad luck, maybe."

"Please! Need those credits!"

"Seniors say every day's hell…."

"Ugh, why second-years!"

Wails everywhere. Gloom filled the room.

"Why only our department have this stupid rule…? Crafting and general don't!"

"Not just us. Magic too."

"Their profs are nice…."

"Why are ours like this?"

All agreed on the last, sighing as they filed out. I smirked at the scene.

Just a scare tactic, and they're freaking. It targeted slackers at exam time. Beat by freshmen? Punishment. But not random—if you gave full effort without crumbling, you got points.

They wouldn't know, though. Only novel readers did. I left for lunch—the long lecture made it noon already.

Lunch… yesterday was torture, but not today. Today was different. Real cafeteria food, not apples. I hurried to the student dining hall.

"Crowded."

Lunch rush: students packed, professors sprinkled in. I fed coins into the mana-screened ticket machine. Menu popped up: soups, noodles, breads; snacks, desserts, drinks. Appetizing pics whetted hunger.

All look tasty, but mine's this one. Set 1: basic set. Cheapest at 10 dong.

Ticket in five minutes, food out. Found a seat.

"Ahh, looks delicious."

Bread, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠soup, salad, bacon. Simple set, but perfect and touching to me. First normal meal in ages. Bread chewy, soup meaty-veggie packed, salad fresh, bacon perfectly crisped.

"…Stuffed."

Full belly felt great, satisfying.

Worth the hype. Tianis cafeteria: cheap, tasty, generous. Academy spared no expense for students—no worries but meals philosophy. Tuition stress enough; can't burden talents more. Side note: costs high, but academy rakes cash, so plot holds.

"Smack, wanna try others."

One silver left? Ninety dong. Stick to basics to save—bummer, but fine. Variety prevents boredom.

Once I got leeway, try more. Small goal set, left. Full stomach brought drowsiness; walked to digest. Lunchtime crowds: bench-resting students, spring-strollers like me. Relaxed vibe. But subtle tension underneath.

And then—

Boom— Boom!

Fireworks burst from student council hall skyward. Bright even in day, drawing eyes. I knew what they meant.

"Announcement time, huh."

Words barely out, crows scattered hundreds of papers academy-wide.

That crow Ratral Heytald's summon, right…

Random thought as paper dropped before me. Densely printed. Picked one up.

My name in the latter half.

"Doesn't change, huh."

Hoped butterfly effect excluded me. Nah, protagonist-tied plot wouldn't shift easy.

"Alright, second-years this time—who's up!"

"Argh! Picked!"

"Hahaha, good luck! Lose and you're teased forever."

Laments, screams, cheers erupted. Total chaos—pandemonium.

"Fuck, luck's shit!"

"God! Why this trial…!"

"I curse you! Tianis Academy!"

Second-years wailing skyward. Last year spectators, now participants—burden heavy.

"The safest bets…."

"Ugh, princess absent—close."

"C'mon, odds out."

Third-years? Golden. Been there, now just spectate and laugh. Hence the freakout.

Why? Tianis Academy's ancient tradition.

Freshman entrance exam: foster bonds between freshmen and incumbents. Knights and magic randomly pick students vs. freshmen. Already professor-tested admits—no cheating. Why call it "entrance" exam? Founding emperor did, tradition stuck. Top says jump, you jump.

Anyway.

Annoying part. Lose to freshman? Ultimate shame. Even genius opponent—teased till graduation. How'd you do at entrance exam? Profs rake you over too. Second-years hate it.

Departments: 600 freshmen total. Two depts, 1200. Second-years: 600 participants. 2:1 odds. Bad luck? Face two-plus. Good luck? Smooth.

Other depts different. Crafting/general separate—nature mismatch. Still, big annual event. All lectures canceled, exam broadcast academy-wide. Play, eat, rest, bet like seniors. Ends with ceremony—lively day.

Not for me. Passed them, dorm-bound. Tomorrow: face protagonist. List-confirmed, no escape. Fight him. Kyle's death spiral starts here. Harbor grudge? Death awaits. But no. Want normal life. Tomorrow: half-ass loss, chill with broadcast. Profs curse and assign work? Fine—distancing from lead priority.

"Gonna munch popcorn at the ceremony."

Miss exam scenes—protagonist bullying/ competing freshmen fun. But ceremony has gems: post-exam prof vs. guest powerhouse demo. Novel-only, skipped elsewhere. Worth watching.

Back at dorm, trained. Profs busy tomorrow—Ratral too. Contract land service paused till then. Post-training bath. Washed sweat-soaked uniform, hung in breeze. 7 PM. Dinner: cafeteria bento. Fatigue relief done—exhausted. Bed rest.

Body languid. But fulfilling day—not bad.

"This is living."

Lecture, exercise, eat, rest. Everyday like this? Bliss. Peaceful satisfaction. Beer would've perfected—too bad capital trek hassle.

"Sleep time."

Eyes heavy. Early, but tomorrow's schedule fine. Reaching to snuff candle—

Text floated before my eyes, timer ticking down slowly. Seeing it, I reacted:

"What the fu… You kidding me?"