The Guard Exam

'The timeline is tight.'

I glanced back at Evangeline and Andy, then turned away.

When I raised a hand, a magic car glided to a stop in front of me.

A magic car was a means of transport powered by mana stones, and in shape it closely resembled an automobile. So long as it was supplied with mana stones, it could run indefinitely, and thanks to its enchanted seating, the ride was absolutely superb.

It had one fatal drawback, though.

'It costs a fortune.'

Mana stones were expensive, so of course magic cars were too—so much so that even nobles thought twice before hailing one.

Money, naturally, was no problem for me.

I hopped into the magic car.

"Where to, sir?"

"Elysium Academy, please."

"Very good, sir."

The magic car pulled away with a smooth hum, gliding along as if I were riding on a cloud.

It left the capital behind and followed a long, well-paved road. Soon, massive white towers rose into view in the distance—Elysium Academy.

It looked just as it had on the monitor, but seeing it in the flesh made the impression entirely new.

'Ridiculously huge. Ridiculously ornate.'

Endless stretches of lush green lawn, white marble fountains, and students in academy uniforms brimming with life. A fresh wave of realization washed over me—I really had been transmigrated into this world.

The magic car stopped in front of the main gate; vehicles weren't permitted inside the academy grounds.

The moment I stepped out, I spotted a man in guard uniform—a blue short-sleeved shirt and black trousers—motioning me forward.

"The guard examination hall is this way."

It matched the game exactly. And yet, seeing it in person stirred a very different feeling.

'What a joke of a job.'

Hoisting my leather bag, I headed in the direction the man pointed.

A huge crowd of nervous applicants had gathered in one place—and there were a lot of them.

'At least a thousand.'

This year's incoming class had swollen the academy's ranks, and it seemed Elysium was overhauling its guard force to match.

The overall quality, however, was nothing impressive. Even in the game, the guard corps had never been particularly significant. In a way, that was only natural—in academy stories, if the guards actually did their jobs, when would the students and professors who drive the plot ever get a moment to shine? The guards had to be useless for the main characters to stand out.

And that was precisely why I'd chosen the guards.

My plan was to turn the academy into a place of study, not romance. For that, the guard corps needed to actually function.

Just then, a man in guard uniform stepped forward.

"Right! We will now begin the General Guard examination! The exam consists of four stages in total. Stage one is—"

"Identity verification, sir!!"

A blond hulk thrust his hand into the air and bellowed. The guard official took one look at the man's size and openly grimaced.

"Kelin. You still haven't given up? What attempt is this?"

"My fifth, sir! Giving up is a betrayal of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the Guard Spirit!"

"You haven't even passed, and you're lecturing me about Guard Spir—"

"My soul already belongs to the guard corps!"

Laughter erupted across the crowd. The official clicked his tongue and waved a hand.

"Fine, fine. Shut it before I fail you on the spot."

"Yes, sir! Senior Officer, sir!"

"In any case—the guard examination consists of four stages. Stage one is identity verification. The guard corps is the gate that protects Elysium Academy. If anyone with ill intent slipped into our ranks, it would be catastrophic. We have already verified your records back to your grandparents. Now, those whose names are called will leave at once."

The official rattled off names at speed. The called-out applicants offered every excuse imaginable, but without exception, every one of them was expelled. A few had to be physically restrained and dragged away.

I had already spent a fortune securing an airtight identity—one that would hold up even under direct investigation by the Imperial household.

Just as expected, my name was never called.

By the time identity verification ended, the applicant pool had been cut in half.

"Stage two is a test of basic physical fitness. When something happens inside the academy, the guards must be the first to run toward it—even if they were fast asleep at the time."

The fitness test consisted of an armed long-distance run, cargo hauling, and holding a shield at the ready. Simple tasks, which meant there was no room for clever shortcuts.

"Damn it! Who the hell wears full armor like this nowadays!"

A weaselly-looking guy grumbled beside me.

'This is heavy?'

I lifted the armor plate and gave it a once-over. It was absurdly light—light enough that I questioned whether it deserved to be called armor at all. Plate this thin wouldn't stop a demon's fang, or even a monster's teeth for that matter.

On the front lines, he'd have been cursed out for showing up in leather scraps, and this guy was complaining it was too heavy.

'Weaklings, the lot of them.'

Just then, a bell tolled to signal the start. Everyone bolted off at once. I simply matched the pace of the crowd around me.

Before long, applicants were dropping like flies. One fellow was foaming at the mouth. It was a sorry sight—so pathetic my brow furrowed on its own.

And with that, stage two was over. Somewhere between five hundred and fifteen hundred had washed out.

"Stage three is an ideological screening. It's a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠simple test, so it'll ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠be over quickly."

The next exam was a written questionnaire covering the Empire, the Magic Tower corporations, the Holy Nation, and black mages.

It really was as simple as the proctor claimed. Most people started scribbling answers the moment they sat down, and before long, examinees began filing out of the hall.

Regrettably, however, it was anything but easy for me.

'If the Republic is to be stopped, the Empire must remain strong.'

'Not a pact, exactly. I just had a heart forcibly transplanted into me.'

Landmine questions like these stretched on and on.

Worse still, an advanced magic circle had been woven into the answer sheet itself.

'A spell hidden in there to prevent lying, is it?'

It was a circle of such precision that it was nearly impossible to detect. Clearly the work of an extremely high-level mage.

Then I saw the final question.

At the sudden mention of witches, my eyes sank deep.

Now I understood how anyone could have embedded a magic circle this sophisticated.

'The Chairwoman made this.'

It had to be the work of the Chairwoman—Mother of Witches.

And since the circle came from her own hand, breaking it with magic was out of the question. The simplest way to dismantle a magic circle was to use aura, magic's natural counter. But that leaves traces. The very attempt to break the circle would raise suspicion.

To erase all evidence of tampering, one would need a complete understanding of the circle's structure—and since this one was crafted by a Grandmage, merely mapping it out would take an eternity.

Fortunately, there was one other solution.

'Divine power.'

Magic was poison to divine power—which paradoxically made the circle's traces easy to find with it. All I had to do was trace where the divine light was being consumed in reverse.

It was my preferred method.

'That damned blessing of a heart—'

A faint wash of pure white radiance—divine power—poured from my palm. Following where the light wavered, I mapped the circle's structure with ease.

I moved my pen only within the limits that wouldn't disturb the circle. The result was atrocious handwriting, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

Looking over my completed answer sheet, I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠paused to think.

The Chairwoman, Mother of Witches, never engaged with the outside world at all—she despised sunlight. Above all, she was meticulously cautious. Cautious enough to embed a magic circle in a mere guard recruitment exam.

Opportunities to make contact with the Chairwoman like this were rare.

I needed to dangle some bait.

I drew a deep breath and moved my pen slowly.

'No.'

With every single character I wrote, a violent revulsion rose through me as if my blood were flowing backward.

To think a mere magic circle etched into paper could carry this much force.

'A monster. Truly a Grandmage.'

Thud-thud-thud! The heart on my right pounded as though wagging its tail. The heart on my left trembled violently, shrieking in protest.

I twisted the final answer ever so slightly. Imperceptible to anyone else—but just noticeable enough, if the Chairwoman herself were the one reading.

'Come sniffing, then.'

Muttering low, I set down my pen.

"What's taking you so long?"

The proctor jeered. When I looked up, I was the only one left in the examination hall—along with that Kelin fellow.

I could understand myself, but what was his excuse—

Just then, Kelin held up his answer sheet. It was packed wall to wall with writing.

"Paper is far too small to contain my Guard Spirit! Grant me one more sheet, I beg you! GUARD SPIRIT!!"

"Unbelievable. Get out already!"

Thanks to that ruckus over Kelin, I managed to submit my answer sheet without a hitch.

"Madam Chairwoman! Madam Chairwoman!! MADAM CHAIRWOMAN!!!"

Angelica pounded furiously on the firmly shut door. No answer came.

Not that she entertained any thought like 'perhaps no one's in there.' That gloomy witch would never have gone out.

"If you don't open this door right now, there will be no more red vinegar candy. Ever!"

At last, Angelica played her trump card. The door flew open before the words had even left her mouth.

Beyond it lay a lake ringed by forest, and a small cottage beside it. An utterly surreal scene—yet somehow, strangely, it felt perfectly natural.

At the center of it all sat a tiny cat. The cat wore a bizarre pointed hat and held a fishing rod. It was a hopelessly unrealistic sight, but to Angelica it was a familiar one.

"Madam Chairwoman, why on earth did you put questions about witches on the guard exam! You of all people know how sensitive a topic witches are!"

"Meow."

"Don't you 'meow' me. You are not a cat."

"Meow?"

"Where in the world is there a cat that wears a hat and goes fishing!"

"Meow."

Blood rose to Angelica's forehead. She brought out her secret weapon: a candy with a sharp, pungent aroma—red vinegar candy.

The cat's eyes went wide at the sight. Its mouth opened in a hurry, and, remarkably, a young girl's voice flowed out.

"It couldn't be helped. My daughter asked me herself."

"Your daughter?"

Angelica's expression turned grave.

The Chairwoman was the Mother of Witches. The problem was that every one of those daughters was completely unhinged. They hadn't earned the name Sisters of Calamity for nothing.

And now her daughter was involved. This was far more serious than she'd imagined.

"What did she ask for?"

"To find her first love."

"A witch's first love?"

"Meow."

Witches were creatures mad with love. It sounded romantic at first blush, but the reality was the exact opposite.

A witch's love meant the two becoming one, forever.

Physically. Spiritually.

In other words, a witch devoured the one she loved.

Alive.

"And if you find him?"

"Who can say."

The cat tilted its head. An adorable gesture, truly—but Angelica, who knew the truth, felt a cold sweat slide down her spine.

She shook her head, forcing the dread away.

"Witches only fall in love with those stronger than themselves, don't they? You think someone on par with the Witch of Calamity or beyond is going to walk in as a mere guard? Not even a professor?"

"You never know."

The cat smiled gently. At that, Angelica truly breathed a sigh of relief. There was no conceivable way a powerhouse rivaling the Sisters of Calamity would join the guard corps.

Nothing to worry about whatsoever.

"Meow."

Then the cat extended a front paw. With practiced ease, Angelica produced a red vinegar candy and set it on the little pad.

Soon the sharp, tangy scent prickled up her nose.

"Meow."

The Chairwoman purred contentedly.