Chapter 12
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 12
Chapter Title: Entrance Exam
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After passing through the main gate and arriving at the exam venue.
The two got off the carriage.
Soon, the scenery appeared before their eyes. Upon confronting it, Ullan reflexively widened his eyes.
"This place is..."
Arsen Academy.
The world's largest in scale, the undisputed greatest educational institution on the continent. True to its reputation, the academy's size far surpassed imagination.
A vast lake large enough to encompass the plains at its center, densely surrounded by countless buildings. Just from this sight alone, one could believe it wasn't an academy but an entire nation.
Meanwhile, while Ullan was entranced by the academy, Noa fixed her gaze on the enormous lake.
'Mana Spring, Arsen.'
It was far too massive to call a spring, but since that's what it was named in the game, she decided to gloss over the triviality.
More importantly, Noa focused on it because that lake formed the foundation of Arsen Continent Saga and the core of its main scenario.
'The site where the Abyss Gate opens.'
The Abyss Gate, from which monsters poured out, always manifested there. No matter which protagonist was chosen or what branching paths were taken.
'Of course, plenty of time remains before the gate opens, but it's no time to get complacent.'
So, now that they were at the academy, she resolved to pass with flying colors and hoard every hidden piece in sight!
Noa's eyes gleamed with ambition.
As she reaffirmed her determination.
"Lord Ullan, Lady Noa."
A familiar voice brushed their ears.
It was Alond, the butler from the Dermore Count's household who had ridden with them in the carriage. He handed a bundle to each.
"Please accept these."
"What is this...?"
"Bentos prepared at the mansion and encouragement funds from His Excellency the Count."
The moment "encouragement funds" left his lips.
Noa immediately opened the pouch inside her bundle. Her eyes sparkled right away.
"Gold coins!"
No matter how she turned it, they were unmistakably gold coins.
Five of them, no less. With one gold coin equaling the value of a hundred silver coins, it amounted to five hundred silver in hand.
Noa's face brightened instantly.
Ullan, by contrast, remained stoic. He appreciated the thoughtfully wrapped bentos more than the gold. Thus, he silently bowed his head.
"I thank you for the Count's kindness."
"P-Please tell him I thank him too!"
Noa belatedly snapped to attention and hurriedly voiced her gratitude. Alond nodded with refined courtesy.
"Understood. Then, I wish fortune upon your paths ahead and pray you achieve fine results in the entrance exam."
With an inscrutable smile to cap it off.
Alond boarded the carriage and departed the academy.
Back to just the two of them. Yet neither felt lonely or forlorn. Their long-sought destination lay right before them.
"Well, shall we head in?"
"Let's."
With Ullan's gruff response.
The pair strode boldly toward the exam venue.
2.
The exam grounds spanned a colossal area befitting the academy's grandeur. Even a deliberate tour would consume half a day.
They registered for their respective exams. In turn, the attendant handed them booklets listing the venues and schedules.
"Hmm, all the magic specialty exams start in the afternoon. So I'll begin with the Rune Engraving exam. As for Ullan..."
Noa briskly turned the pages.
"Ah! Here it is. Grand Melee first, then Monster Hunt. Mana Detection exam after that in the afternoon."
The Grand Melee took place at the Wolf Arena to the east. Noa's exam, meanwhile, was at the western forge.
Destinations in directly opposite directions.
Ullan murmured evenly.
"We'll have to split up for a while."
"Yeah. Good luck on your exam."
"You too."
A crisp farewell concluded.
Ullan and Noa parted for their venues. After a handful of steps, Noa's voice suddenly rang out.
"Ah, right. Ullan!"
"...?"
"Meet at the fountain up front after the exams. Eating lunch alone would be so lonely."
So that's what it was.
Ullan chuckled softly in reply.
"I'm fine on my own."
"...I'm not. A-Anyway! See you around noon by the fountain."
With that, Noa vanished after finishing her piece.
Ullan quickened his pace as well.
Finding the location proved simple. A map was attached to the booklet.
Not long after.
He arrived at the Wolf Arena.
"All eyes front!"
Just then, a man presumed to be the proctor ascended the platform. A fierce-faced fellow. He pressed on with brows deeply furrowed.
"I'm Ethan Arnop, proctor for this exam. Explanation on the Grand Melee starts now—ears open wide and listen up straight!"
His gravelly bellow ended.
Ethan dove straight into the meat.
"The Grand Melee simulates you dropped into a real battlefield, testing how sharp your combat instincts are. A specialty exam."
He paced slowly.
Then jabbed a finger toward the arena.
"Content's dead simple. Enter the arena, fight each other, win. Done. Need more words?"
As he scanned the crowd with a rhetorical jab.
One boy shot his hand skyward.
"Proctor, question!"
"Spit it."
"How many need to remain before it ends?"
"Select top five first. Guaranteed minimum B-grade for them. Then those five scrap—the final two survivors get A-grade."
"And if outside top five...?"
"C-grade or worse, naturally. First out gets F."
Mid-explanation.
Another student thrust up a hand.
"How do we get S-grade then?"
"Sharp question."
Ethan grinned wolfishly.
As if he'd been waiting for it.
"S-grade goes solely to the victor if those last two clash. Loser still pulls B-grade."
"B-But if they don't fight...?"
"Both walk with A-grade. End of story."
In short, the final duo held the choice.
Negotiate for mutual safe A-grades, or duel for S-grade glory. Up to the examinees.
Then Ethan produced something.
A bead tiny as a nail. A mystical orb pulsing intense blue light.
"For reference, defeat's judged by this."
"What's that?"
"Your lives."
Answer delivered.
Ethan crushed the bead outright.
Krunch!
Shards flew every which way. The blue glow dissipated like smoke in tandem.
"Breaks and loses its light. Infused with trace mana—destroyed means 'dead,' tallied as defeat."
Storage anywhere fine, so long as kept on person.
"No more questions? Exam starts now. Proceed to assigned sectors in call order."
Ethan's rundown wrapped.
Waiting assistants promptly began naming examinees from the rear.
"Himmel Deorg, Sector 1!"
"Vernon Davine, Sector 2!"
Waiting examinees funneled into the arena.
Circular arena, sectors arrayed clockwise like clock hands.
As spots filled one by one. Suddenly, a figure seized the eye.
'That one's...'
Pale golden hair, turquoise eyes.
Trim waist, voluptuous curves aplenty.
Beauty to make any passerby double-take. Unlike a certain same-age peer with an implausibly mature frame.
Yet Ullan clocked her for more than face and form.
'Familiar face...'
Trouble was, the exact identity eluded him. Frowning as he rifled memories.
The proctor called her name.
"Ivela Elead, Sector 12!"
Her name echoed.
Ullan bulged his eyes. A name etched in memory. In that instant, her face overlaid a figure from recollection.
A comrade who'd battled Abyss monsters alongside Ullan in his past life—one of the seven heroes.
Sword Princess Ivela.
Stacking her against the Sword Princess in memory, the resemblance struck strong. Hair, eyes, features—a spitting image.
'Right. Ivela, huh?'
The lack of scars had thrown him.
The Sword Princess bore scars originally.
A massive gash from left brow to cheek, plus finer marks across forehead and jaw.
Hence her constant mask. She revealed her face only to trusted comrades who'd bared their souls. Ullan counted among them.
'Who'd have thought she'd attended Arsen Academy too.'
Past-life tales rarely swapped, so he'd been clueless. A strange thrill gripped him as he observed Ivela appraisingly.
That was when.
Clang! Grind!
Right after Ivela entered the arena.
The iron gates slammed shut. As some examinees flustered at the abruptness, Ethan tacked on in an offhand tone.
"Oh, forgot to mention—the Grand Melee runs in batches of twelve."
No, lead with that.
Examinees shot him looks. Ethan barreled on brazenly.
"Ten seconds flat. Ditch the dumb faces, stash your beads. Flaunt 'em openly and you're prime target."
Words done.
Examinees scrambled to conceal beads. Pockets, socks, even undies for some.
Futile effort.
Shhh!
Blue glow bled through fabric. Might as well broadcast locations.
Still beats clutching openly.
Ten seconds ticked down.
"Combat commence!"
Ethan's roar signaled.
Examinees gripped weapons, jockeying for reads. Sizing foes, probing moves.
But in that beat.
A figure shattered the arena hush. The future Sword Princess, Ivela Elead.
Fwhoosh!
Sword propelled earthward, surging forth.
Seizing the collective daze, she unleashed a gale-thrust at the boy at 11 o'clock. Pinpoint strike.
Crunch! Splinter!
Bead halved.
Its bluish gleam snuffed instantly. A shrill voice lanced the boy's dazed ear.
"Olden Randolph—out!"
The boy drew instant F-grade.
Likely bounced before swinging once. That sparked it—chaos erupted in the arena.
Clang! Clash! Scraaaape!
Weapons collided.
Shouts and screams dyed the din. Amid the bedlam, Ullan's gaze locked solely on Ivela.
'Sword Princess Ivela.'
As previewed, she mastered the swift blade.
Her strikes terrified with speed and tenacity. In battle, she honed solely on vitals.
Those who'd crossed her swore in unison: not dueling a swordsman, but an assassin.
'Yet her grace evoked a butterfly's dance—whence "Sword Princess."'
Sword fused with dancer equals Sword Princess.
True to form, Ivela wove flashy, rapid swordplay like choreography.
Of course, paling against the Sword Princess she'd become three decades hence.
'No matter.'
No talent here outshone her now.
And the bout wrapped.
Two victors. Ivela steadying ragged breaths, and a light-brown-haired boy.
'Who was that?'
The first-named one.
As he dredged for the name.
The boy abruptly addressed Ivela. Voice faint, but lips decipherable.
'Background, fountain, forfeit?'
Snippets too vague for full sense. Ivela bit her lip hard, head drooping. Then in a muffled tone.
"...I forfeit the fight."
Sudden concession.
The arena murmured in shock.
"What? Forfeit?"
"Why bail now?"
Ullan shared the bafflement.
Ethan creased his brow.
"Forfeit, not mutual accord?"
"Yes."
"That's a B-grade, y'know?"
"Doesn't matter."
Ivela replied with steadfast blankness. Yet her eyes betrayed no calm—scarcely leashed fury.
Some backstory at play, no doubt.
Ullan surmised thus.
"Eh, whatever—if you two hashed it, fine by me. Bout over! Next batch, self-enter on call."
Ethan stayed hands-off.
Roll call resumed.
"Dian Mortesi, Sector 1!"
"Petron Yurika, Sector 2!"
Examinees piled into the arena steadily.
At length, Ullan's turn arrived.
"Ullan Bator, Sector 12!"
Coincidentally, Ivela's old spot. As he advanced, gazes rained like arrows from all sides.
Mostly guarded stares.
Expected. His frame dwarfed his peers in bulk and stature.
Ullan stayed unruffled.
Simply shouldered the looks wordlessly en route to his sector.
Not long after.
"Combat commence!"
The Grand Melee kicked off.
5. Entrance Exam