The Practical Exam
Origin Academy was the finest educational institution on the continent.
At the same time, it was a specialized training ground for superhumans — a place designed to help gifted seedlings grow into towering trees.
That was why Origin Academy's curriculum differed so sharply from that of any ordinary school.
"Instructor Ryu, you've thoroughly familiarized yourself with the evaluation categories and scoring criteria, I trust?"
"Yes. I kept reading and memorizing them even after I got off work yesterday."
"Excellent."
Among those differences, the most striking was the exam structure itself.
Origin Academy split its term examinations into written and practical components, administering a separate practical exam only after the written tests had concluded.
Perhaps for that reason, though it was only the day after the written exams had ended, the cadets' presence felt sharper and more edged than the day before.
Written scores could hardly be ignored, but practical results were what people generally demanded more of. The practicals carried a heavier weight in the final grade, and they were what society valued more highly as well.
And given that the cadets themselves preferred and prized practical skill above all else, it was only natural.
"Which class's practical exam are you assigned to, Instructor Charlotte?"
"I'm with Instructor Libera's class. What about you, Instructor Ryu?"
"I'm in Instructor Yujin's classroom."
Before the exams began, I was passing the time talking with Charlotte about the practicals — who had been assigned as examiner for which class, which cadets excelled at what, and so on. The conversation drifted along, and the time slipped away with it.
Names of instructors I had yet to meet came up often enough, but I already knew who they were, so the talk never stalled.
"Is there any cadet you're particularly looking forward to seeing, Instructor Charlotte?"
"Me? Not really. It might be because most of them dig into martial arts and magic rather than alchemy. What about you, Instructor Ryu?"
Charlotte asked with a soft smile, clearly curious whether anyone had caught my eye. I pictured one particular cadet's face and let the corner of my mouth curl up.
"As it happens, there's a cadet who left a strong impression on me — and he's in Instructor Yujin's class, the one I'm examining."
Gather enough people in one place and someone always stands out. Origin Academy was no different. Even among the geniuses of world-class potential and talent assembled from every corner of the globe, there were always geniuses among geniuses.
And I had no doubt that the cadet I had met before belonged to that rare category.
"What's his name?"
"Victor Militaris. A combat alchemist — same as you and me, Instructor Charlotte."
A combat alchemist.
Even among the already scarce saplings of alchemy, true combat alchemists were a vanishing breed — an endangered species in the flesh. Charlotte's eyes went round and her mouth parted slightly; the idea that a cadet gifted enough to catch my attention existed among the students seemed to genuinely startle her.
Separate from that, though, I felt a flicker of puzzlement.
"Is this the first you've heard of him? I would have thought Cadet Victor would have sought you out before me."
Charlotte had been an instructor at Origin Academy since the day Victor enrolled, while I was a newcomer who had arrived nearly a month late. Whether you measured by the trust that reputation bought or by simple opportunity for contact over time, Charlotte should have met Victor long before I did.
Given Victor's passion, he would have come looking for her at least once. And yet she didn't know his name?
I watched her with open curiosity. Charlotte seemed to be sifting through her memory, then let out a soft exclamation of recognition.
"Ah — do you mean that cadet?"
"Which cadet?"
"The big one. The cadet who somehow gives off a military air, all sharp angles and discipline?"
"That would be him."
Aspiring combat alchemist and soldier both, Victor carried himself with a military crispness that practically radiated from every movement. It was enough that whenever I crossed paths with him or caught sight of him, it dredged up less-than-pleasant memories — or rather, the blank two years of my life — and left my head faintly aching.
Not that Victor could know anything about military service in another world. The discomfort was mine alone.
"He came to me once for advice about Transmutation Circles. He was working with water-manipulation alchemy, so I made a few adjustments for him. I remember that."
So that was it. His Transmutation Circles had been far too advanced relative to his overall grasp of alchemy — a single overdeveloped stat where everything else should have grown in balance. Charlotte's handiwork, then.
An alchemist whose understanding and practical command of alchemy's fundamentals fell short would struggle to draw a truly excellent Transmutation Circle. The small question that had lingered while I watched him spar with Jerie finally resolved itself — and at last, my turn arrived.
"Instructor Ryu Seojun, please proceed to Training Hall Three in the 2nd District and stand by."
"Understood. Instructor Charlotte — let's finish this conversation after the exams are done."
With those words, and with Charlotte's encouragement at my back, I set out toward Training Hall Three.
The 2nd District.
Where the 5th District was dense with research facilities of every kind, the 2nd District had been built with training and cultivation as its sole purpose. Perhaps for that reason, divided between broad, open training halls and practice wings packed with cutting-edge equipment, it was the busiest district in the entire academy at almost any hour.
One more peculiarity: the numbers on the buildings corresponded directly to their size. The largest facility claimed the number one, followed by two, three, and so on down the line.
Which meant that Training Hall Three, where I would greet the cadets as their examiner, was of a middling scale by academy standards — neither especially vast nor particularly small. Right in the middle of the five numbered halls.
In a space that was neither too large nor too cramped, I sensed the presence of cadets approaching from a distance.
They say it's small compared to Halls One and Two, but this is still the size of a decent arena.
I was tracking the cadets with a detection-type common skill — one of the many close-combat techniques, centered on swordsmanship and shared skills, that Sayulcheon had drilled into me in accelerated fashion. What struck me was less the size of their presence than the sheer distance between us.
I know how the practical exam works, so it's not that I don't understand…
Even so, it was absurdly wide. Crossing from one end to the other, even with a reinforced body, still took several seconds. And that was by the standards of a superhuman who had cultivated internal arts; for an ordinary person, it would be measured in minutes.
Does a simple spar really need this much space?
The practical exam took the form of a spar. More precisely: a one-against-many free-for-all between a single instructor and an entire class.
Even by pure strength alone, the instructors of Origin Academy outclassed the monsters that prowled the depths of the Destroyed Kingdom. The cadets would combine their power to show what they could do against an instructor, and the instructor would respond to what they saw, evaluating their level in the process.
Well. I'll find out once we start.
I huffed a quiet laugh and turned my gaze toward the entrance of the training hall, following the rapidly closing presence. Familiar faces filed in with tightly wound expressions and looked up at me standing in the center.
Pleased by the properly taut atmosphere, I spoke in a cheerfully unhurried voice.
"Ordinarily I might ease us in with small talk or introductions — but this is, after all, an examination."
Responsiveness under sudden pressure. I had not forgotten the evaluation criteria I had marked as worth watching.
An enemy never waits for you to be ready. You cannot always enter a fight at full strength. An assault almost always begins as a surprise from a position that is, by any measure, disadvantageous — and though it might seem rare, it was common enough in real combat.
A bit of a dirty trick, but I have to admit I'm curious.
They hadn't expected this. In a situation where a flimsy excuse like that would not save them, how would the cadets react? How would they handle it?
Origin Academy did not organize its classes by specialization. It mixed students of various talents in balanced proportions rather than isolating, say, the magically gifted into a single section. The intent was precisely this: to force cooperation in situations like the one now unfolding. Through collaboration, each cadet could amplify their strengths and cover their weaknesses. Diverse gifts were deliberately bound into a single class.
"From the moment you set foot in this training hall, the exam had already begun."
The ground shuddered. With a heavy tremor, lines scored the floor like graph paper, dividing it into a grid, and each section began to move independently. Some rose. Some sank. A few remained still. The cadets could only watch as the ground heaved and collapsed around them on every side.
"Aaaah?!"
"What the hell?!"
The cadets cried out in shock and scrambled to respond, adapting in real time to an examination floor whose elevations were changing by the second.
An alchemist, by nature, remakes the environment to suit themselves. They fashion a stage advantageous to them and disadvantageous to their opponent, then force the fight to take place only on that stage. For a combat alchemist, it was both the most fundamental and the most critical approach.
And a cadet who had learned that approach directly from me was standing right there.
"Coming out aggressive from the first problem, I see."
"The first problem on any exam is always a simple basic concept. It looks rough, but you know by now that this is the foundation of combat alchemy."
Victor Militaris.
How much had he grown? Could he show the skill he had once promised me?
He was the first to break free of the alchemy's area of effect, and the other cadets gathered to his side. The moment their numbers were roughly in place, Victor charged straight at me.
Close combat?
Had he learned nothing from that previous lesson? The thought had barely formed when—
Crack!
Victor flashed a confident, glittering smile and clapped his hands hard together. Before I could even finish parsing the meaning of that clap—
"Huh. Not bad. You actually used your head."
Behind the charging Victor, cadets who had raised their mana unleashed a torrent of water magic. The magically created water overtook him in an instant and surged up around my ankles — and the Transmutation Circle drawn on Victor's clothes blazed to life as if it had been waiting for exactly that.
Not an attack. Not a defense. Simply water generated and poured out with mana. Barely even worthy of being called magic — pure fundamentals. But those fundamentals built Victor a stage that was nothing short of perfect.
"Well then. Let's see what you can do."
Water up to the ankles was, without question, a stage that favored Victor. But it was also a stage that every person standing here — myself and Victor included — shared.
By way of teaching him that fact, I wore a mischievous smile and transmute the entire body of water soaking everyone's feet.
"Ngh…?!"
Victor's brow furrowed as he sensed something wrong — and in the same moment:
"I've always preferred warm water to cold."
The water lapping at their feet began to bubble and boil.