Gate Promotion Exam Day

The day of the promotion exam.

"Minho, drink this."

My landlady handed me a glass of some unidentifiable green juice. A special fatigue tonic, she explained, blended from vegetables like spinach and broccoli.

"Wow. Must be nice."

Yeondo. Could you maybe leave at least a gram of soul in that delivery?

"Thank you."

Still, it didn't taste half bad.

"So when are you taking your C-class exam?"

"Woooow. Coming from a lifelong E-class!"

Karma, she called it. I'd teased her plenty myself, so I supposed I had it coming.

"Yeondo, you were pretty harsh. Minho only put up with it because he's such a sweetheart."

"Hmph."

She said that, but I knew perfectly well how carefully Yeondo had walked on eggshells around me after she hit D-class first. Only once enough time had passed—once resignation, or maybe enlightenment, had set in—did she start needling me again.

"Mister, I'm catching up real soon, so you just wait."

"Your mom said to keep up with school until you graduate, remember?"

"Urrrgh!"

Even as a rising star of Mir Guild, one of the nation's top five, Yeondo's growth stayed modest thanks to one very effective restraint: her mother. Hunter work was supposed to begin in earnest only after the college entrance exam. With so few gate runs under her belt, she simply couldn't raise her level, and so she remained stuck at D-class.

Talent that even Sir Isra had acknowledged. The entrance exams were almost here—the day that restraint came off wasn't far away.

"I'm heading out."

"Mister, fighting!"

For all the bickering, I flashed a grin at the little sister who'd always cheered me on, then stepped outside.

"Hunter Park Minho! A word about today's promotion exam, please!"

"Going for S-rank again this time?"

"B-class is the infamous wall that demands enlightenment—are you confident?!"

Ugh. What a racket.

"Any official statements will go through Seungcheon Agency. Please direct your inquiries there."

Nice. I rattled off the textbook answer I'd learned from the boss without so much as a breath, smooth as a rap verse. Anticipating the crush, I'd already recalled both of my summons into the death space. I slipped past the reporters grabbing for my sleeves. Most of them were non-Awakened, so shaking free was easy enough. Maybe it was the Heavenly Martial Body, but the gaps in the crowd practically lit up for me.

"The boss came in person ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠today?"

"It's a promotion exam day. Of course I'd drive you myself."

Baek Seonghyeon grinned from behind the wheel. We headed straight for Yeouido, where Seungcheon Tower stood.

After parking, on the way to the exam, I spotted the support-team guys waiting nearby.

"What the hell."

What was this?

…More than ten banners alone, plus balloons and every kind of cheering prop cluttering up the view.

"Boss???"

"I didn't arrange this."

For real? Really? Hontō ni? Zhēn de ma?

Ah. I think I'm losing my mind. I think I'm going out for lunch.

"Hyung-nim, just so there's no misunderstanding—it wasn't us either."

Seongsu whipped his head left and right with violent sincerity.

Gentlemen. You're genuinely uninvolved in this?

"Yes. Completely uninvolved."

Alright then. Let's give it our all. I believe you.

The real question was why ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a crowd of nearly a hundred people had shown up at all. Between the props and the sheer production value, they'd come ready for war.

"They're your fans, hyung-nim."

"Who, me?"

"Who else here is Hunter Park besides you?"

"Hunter Park Minho! Look over here!"

A shout that could have come straight out of a martial-arts film. A woman in her twenties, forehead and waist bound with sashes, strode up beside me.

"I'm Jeong Ayeon, president of the fan club!"

"Ah—yes. Yes."

What is this. I'm scared.

"We put all this together so you'd have strength for today's exam!"

"Son, come take a picture before you go."

Excuse me. Why is my mom over there?

Chaos. Pure chaos.

"We were waiting for you too and got drafted into this."

Seongsu muttered under his breath. For a "draft," they all looked way too pleased with themselves.

Urgh. Why does the embarrassment always land on me?

After much ordeal—including a commemorative photo—

"You can do it!"

"You're definitely promoting this time!"

"Son, fighting!"

…I took the roaring wall of cheers and set my hand on one of the tower's many doors.

I pulled a cheongsimhwan from my pocket and tossed it into my mouth. I wasn't particularly nervous. This was simply me keeping a promise—one I'd made ages ago when I bought the pills, that I'd take one the moment I was certain I'd pass.

【Did you not take one last time as well?】

Don't ask why I bought several. I'd gotten a whole set in case nerves got the better of me and I failed—so I could take another. And who knew? Even if I passed this time, I might reattempt just to chase that S-rank.

With a heavy creeeak, the door opened. Savoring the bitter aftertaste on my tongue, I strode into the tower without hesitation.

A space sealed off from the outside world. Like a gate, it was its own independent testing ground. I'd come here nearly every month, and yet I still couldn't get used to this oppressive atmosphere.

I summoned the thralls I'd stowed in the death space.

"Hahaha! The hour of glory has arrived!"

"Shall I sing for you, Master?"

【I'll look around—there might be something worth money, you know.】

【…….】

All that noise actually helped. Tension melted right off.

Come again?

What was that?

Before, it had only ever checked Necromancer. Why were they making me take two exams this time?

I jabbed a finger at the empty air in righteous protest, but no answer came back.

"Does it matter?"

"With Master's skill, you'll sail through both, you know."

【Strange. I smell money, but nothing's opening, sir.】

【…….】

Right. Thanks for the pep talk. The actual topics hadn't even dropped yet—no point burning energy already.

With a heavy clunk, part of the ceiling opened and five target boards descended.

A multi-cast computation test, then. Hitting them simultaneously with Frozen Orbs would trip the first condition. Mass-summoning skeleton mages would fail the third. You had to clear it yourself—or through a single subordinate skilled in magic.

Brutal difficulty. An ordinary necromancer would be tearing their hair out.

But I wasn't an ordinary necromancer.

"Looks like it's this maiden's turn."

"Witch. Go exalt our Lord's renown."

"I was going to even if you hadn't said anything."

All she needed to do was hit the targets. The five forked bolts of lightning each struck dead center of their boards. Altering the very nature of the mana, and nailing pin-point accuracy on top of it—once again I was reminded that the title of Archwitch wasn't something she'd won in a poker game.

"Hmph."

Ingrid turned her head with a faint smile—calm, as if this were nothing at all. That cool, cerebral bearing was something you only saw in the people this age called great mages.

【My lord. Magnificent, sir.】

Hmm. That cool demeanor was almost enough to make me fall for her.

Then our eyes met, and—

"Did you see that, Master?!"

—her expression melted ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠like she was a completely different person.

"Cease your antics, witch."

"Says the iron-head."

There. That was the Ingrid I knew. Only then did I feel at ease again.

The five scorched targets ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠rose back into the ceiling. With a grinding rumble, the floor split left and right, and a forge, anvil, and other blacksmithing equipment rose into place.

Oh, come on. They were seriously running a two-stage exam.

"Has it not always been thus?"

"Those were the same field. This time the disciplines are completely different."

"Lacking confidence, are we?"

Oh-ho. Getting spicy, are we?

"I'm the one the finest artisans in this country are lining up to serve."

"Hahaha! That is a bearing befitting my Lord."

"Iron-head, who do you think you're talking to with that mouth?"

"Offering counsel to one's Lord is also chivalry."

Why did all this chivalry talk sound so welcome today?

A mana-infused armament, was it? Fine. I'd make one gladly.

"Zaug. Get a fire going in that forge."

【Understood, sir.】

"Roan. Hit me with a focus boost or a condition-maintenance spell."

【Dark Blessing.】

Buffs looking good. I sorted the primary materials—bones—with Spirit Eye.

From the randomly jumbled pile I rapidly picked out the usable ones. Scrape, scrape. I ground down a mana stone and dusted the powder over the bones.

【Is this enough, sir?】

"That'll do."

I shoved the bones into the roaring forge. Once they'd flushed a deep crimson, I pulled them straight out and hammered away—clang! clack!

"Making it straight would be too boring."

I brought the hammer down on bones of mismatched natures all at once, forcing them together. Combining incompatible materials should have produced a poor result—but I had Spirit Eye, which let me read the byproduct's properties and potential on instinct.

I folded the hammered mass of fused bone. Clang! Hammered again, then folded once more. Clack! Colliding my own mana against the power already driven into the material made blue flames leap up. After three folds I beat the shape into place with careful, thorough strokes.

"My Lord—surely that weapon's form is…!"

Hisssss!

After the quench, a single sword was complete—one that held a milk-white sheen. A blade modeled on the outward form of the Crimson Longsword of the Fallen Knight. I'd shaped it as close as I could to the beloved weapon Sir Isra had wielded in life.

Just as I moved to check the finished product's performance—