Chapter 19
Chapter 19
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: Class Assignment Exam (3)
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Day of the class assignment exam.
At the entrance to Harmein Forest, about a dozen students were gathered. Every one of them had passed the entrance exam to Aphria Academy—the most elite of elite schools—with top scores.
That said, similar scores didn't mean equal treatment.
A strange tension flowed among the gathered students. The source was four standout figures.
Stella, Aila.
Battle Mage, Rak.
Summoner, Resti.
Shaman, Belnoa.
Even bundled together under the label of "students," their presence still shone through.
Belnoa and Rak, direct disciples of the Black and White Mage Tower Lords. Resti, the renowned next Ashen Mage Tower Lord. And of course, there was no need to mention the princess Aila, noble from birth.
Some students gazed at them with envy.
Others shot them jealous looks.
"Ahem."
A short cough.
At the sound, the students' eyes turned forward.
"I'll briefly explain the exam overview."
The teaching assistant on the platform began outlining the rules. Since it was a pre-announced exam, they weren't hard to grasp.
One, do not stray from your assigned section.
Two, scores based on time spent in contact with the "Mana Stone" in each section.
Three, interference and combat allowed to a degree, but don't cross the line.
And.
"Finally, four—absolutely do not enter the center of Harmein Forest."
The teaching assistant's voice was grave.
"As you know, the Spring of Mana lies at the heart of Harmein Forest. You must not enter. I trust you understand why without further explanation."
He didn't spell out the reason. Even so, no one there was ignorant of why they couldn't go in.
"...Why exactly?"
Except for one person.
Raniel shot the teaching assistant a puzzled glance. As far as she was concerned, if they weren't going to use the Spring of Mana, there was no point coming to Harmein Forest at all.
"Saving it for later or something?"
Raniel decided to just go with that.
The teaching assistants must have their reasons.
"Then, let the exam begin."
The teaching assistants started teleporting students to their sections. Watching the glowing circuits on the ground, Raniel slowly rose to her feet.
"Huh? Professor Lania, where are you going?"
"Going on ahead."
"We can teleport you—why not use it?"
"Um... just felt like it?"
If I step on that, the circuit's toast.
Swallowing those words inwardly, Raniel headed into the forest. Someone watched her go.
"Huh?"
Alchemy teaching assistant Ellen stared after her, head tilted.
"Professor Lania's section is the northern one, isn't it?"
Yet the direction she was heading was the entrance to the southern section.
"Um... Professor Lania? That way, you'll have to go way out of your—"
"Huh? Can't I just cut straight through?"
"...Pardon?"
...Straight through the Spring of Mana?
"Well, I'll be off then."
"Ah, yes..."
Ellen could only watch Raniel's retreating figure with a bemused stare.
2.
Belnoa was an orphan from the slums.
Like all slum kids, she had no memory of her parents or what they did for a living. There'd been no need—or chance—to remember.
Her life had been one mad scramble for survival.
Corpses rolling in the alleys might become hers at any moment.
In short, she'd had no time to brood over her past or origins. Instead of such luxuries, she'd rummaged through trash heaps one more time.
That had been her life.
Rummaging trash, rifling corpses—whatever it took to live another day.
By all rights, Belnoa—destined at best for slum assassin—had no business at an academy like this. Even if qualified, she'd have turned it down.
"Doesn't suit me."
Everyone has their stage.
And this wasn't hers.
—Protect that child?
—Flatten the White Tower's nose... and sure, what's one more favor?
If not for her deal with that old man.
Belnoa never would have come to Aphria.
—What you asked about that child? Trivial for me.
—This is a deal, Belnoa.
—Or think of it as a commission.
Belnoa slowly opened her eyes.
When she did, she was in the heart of the forest. She gauged the wind whispering between shadowed trees.
—Overwhelm the White Tower's prized disciple.
—Prove Black superior to White.
A petty pride contest among the highborn.
She was merely their tool.
"As the old man said, this is a commission."
So she'd carry it out, as always.
"Hoo..."
With a short exhale, Belnoa took a step forward. The moment her foot landed, the shadow squelched and warped.
⚡ SHAMAN ART ACTIVATED ⚡ Shadow Weave Shadows twist into threads, forming pathways through the shade.
Shadows unfurled like thin threads, coiling around her body. The shade between trees became her path.
Step by step.
Moving in perfect silence, she caught the sound of footsteps in her ears.
-Thud.
She looked toward the source.
White hair—Rak, assigned to the same section as her.
"......"
Belnoa approached without a word.
No need for a frontal clash. She was an assassin before she was a shaman. Ending it unseen was best.
Slipping shade to shade, she drew a spell from her Stocked arsenal at her fingertips.
⚡ SKILL ACTIVATED ⚡ Shadow Needle Shadows peel away, sharpening into deadly projectiles.
A chunk of the encircling shadow detached.
The moment she aimed her honed spell.
Whoosh.
Rak whipped his head around.
His narrowed eyes pinpointed Belnoa in the shadows with perfect precision.
"There you are."
Rak drew the hand axe from his belt. The motion was fluid, seamless. Gripping it, he rolled his shoulder.
"Don't hide. Come out. Warriors don't skulk."
His cocked arm swung even as Belnoa's spell launched. They collided midair.
Rak's won.
Crack! The axe pulverized the shadow.
Unstopped, it hurtled toward Belnoa.
Clang!
Belnoa whipped her shadows to deflect it—but the instant they met, she faltered.
What the hell is this weight...?
⚡ SKILL ACTIVATED ⚡ Shock Impact wave erupts from the axe haft.
"Ugh!"
Boom! The shockwave from the haft blasted her shadows apart. She was hurled back.
She rolled across the ground once before rising and gathering her scattered shadows. As she did, she looked up.
Gone?
Rak was nowhere in front of her.
That instant, her instincts screamed. She looked skyward, just as they demanded.
He gripped the returning haft midair.
Dual hand axes, one in each hand—Rak plummeted down.
What kind of mage is this guy, shit.
Belnoa bit back the curse rising in her throat. And as if in answer to her question, Rak unleashed his spells.
✨ SPELL ACTIVATED ✨ Haste | Weight Fingers glow on axe grips. Simple spells amplified by superhuman physique.
Rak's fingers glowed on the axe grips.
Simple spells.
But combined with superhuman prowess, their power was anything but light.
Boom!
The roar scattered her reformed shadows once more. This time, the shock rippled through to her. One finger manipulating them snapped.
Index finger.
Before it fully broke, Belnoa released the spell Stocked in her index finger.
⚡ SKILL ACTIVATED ⚡ Smite Basic strike spell—enough to deflect a spent axe.
The most basic strike spell.
Its power wasn't great. But it had enough force to bat away an axe whose momentum had died.
Clang!
Rak staggered back a few steps.
Belnoa eyed him coldly as she thought.
Guess the troll-ripping rumors aren't bullshit.
Frontal assault was a tough win, no doubt.
And his instincts were too sharp. Backstabs from hiding were out. Her options had already shrunk.
But did that mean she couldn't win?
Nah.
"Hoo."
Belnoa sighed at the sight of Rak coiling for another leap. She hadn't wanted to use it, but securing the commission demanded it.
Shaman art.
She thrust her hand forward. Her fingers began twisting in unnatural directions.
The old man said not to if it might be noticed...
But her shaman arts weren't easy to spot. Unless it was a mage who bargained with the stars, prior detection was near impossible.
And those grow on trees?
No such mage would waste time as an academy TA anyway.
Offering.
Crunch, crackle.
Her twisted fingers as the toll—shadows rippled like waves.
3.
"Ooh..."
These kids fight well these days.
I perched on a tree branch, spectating Rak and Belnoa's duel. Their skill level was higher than expected.
Chuck 'em on a battlefield right now, they'd hold their own most places.
Especially Rak—his combat sense was jaw-dropping. Instincts sharper than necessary. The kind death-dodging knights honed over countless lines already his at this age.
Even sharper, if anything. No less, that's for sure.
Worth the White Tower's hype as prized disciple.
That cafe run-in, I'd pegged him for sickly.
"Hm."
Mid-thoughts, I stood.
Time to break it up.
That Belnoa girl's hiding something.
Shaman.
Rare class, scant intel out there—but I'd crossed paths on battlefields often enough.
Lizard shamans.
Psychos sacrificing their own for calamities. Finger-count tough customers—I still remembered those bastards.
Fucking shaman shits.
Truth be told, I couldn't stand shamans. Their nasty trait? Always holding something back till the bitter end.
Yeah, just like now.
-Crunch, crackle.
I tsked at Belnoa's fingers contorting unnaturally. Classic sign of a shaman staple: Offering.
Training like it's real combat? Fine...
But that crossed the line.
"Stop."