As one would expect of greenhorns, the moment they were hit by raw, unfiltered bloodlust. When the creatures' crimson eyes locked onto theirs, their first instinct was to dodge.
They flailed about chaotically, their nerves overriding all the training they had so proudly prepared to showcase. Skills that they had practiced only a couple of times, sleek sword forms, conspicuous poses, and showy footwork all faltered and vanished amid panic.
Unlike practice, where you stand at a place and hit your stationary target, fighting in an actual battle with an actual moving target that wants to kill you, was like a difference between night and day.
In a battle, not only are you constantly moving, but you also have to keep an eye on your opponent, calculate their movements, be aware of your surroundings, cast your skills, all the while trying to suppress the intense fear and terror that grips your heart.
If you are too nervous, forget fighting; you won't even be able to activate your skills, much like what happened with examinees here.
Unable to target their skills or even cast them, they could only roll around and dodge pathetically.
"That's enough, next participant."
Just like that, many of the participants here were unable to display even their slightest ability and were called off the stage.
"Next"…
"Next"…
"Next"...
The trial continued. Some participants tried to come up with strategies after watching earlier failures. A few managed to land clumsy hits, buying themselves cheers from the kinder audience members.
Most, however, repeated the same mistakes, their fear winning over their nerves.
In the second test, where the aspiring knights were face to face with their nightmares, their true abilities, talents, and traits needed to become a knight all surfaced in front of the knight orders to see.
Based on the result and how they fought, the high ranking knights and commanders made their own assessment.
Of course, the second test wasn't uneventful. Among the chaos and nerves, there were a few who shone brightly, rough gems waiting to be polished.
Many of the elite level 3 participants here managed to put up quite a show. As for the crème de la crème…
AWOOO…! The Shadow Wolves crumpled to the ground one after another, blood pooling beneath them.
Silence fell before erupting again in awe struck cheers. The three participants who'd bested the demonic beasts stood tall, their gait straight and aura powerful. They were the Level 4 prodigies who had far exceeded expectations.
The monsters were there to measure the potential, talent, and grit of the future knights; they were there as a wall for them, and by no means were targets to be defeated. However, the three level 4 participants not only went beyond their expectations they also surmounted the walls meant to stop them.
A feat in the realms of the extraordinary. The crowd cheered loudly.
"As expected, those three are the main highlights of this exam. We must do everything we can do to recruit them. With their potential, they could probably become a holy knight before the age of thirty".
Bob, Marcus and Grey discussed intently.
But Reinhardt, seated quietly among them, watched without joining their conversation. His gaze fixed not on the level 4s, but on a struggling figure.
A young man with black hair. He was bloodied, panting and his tattered clothes clung to his sweat soaked skin. Yet even as he got countless cuts, he still persisted through the pain and fear.
In the young man's hands was a great crimson sword, massive, rugged, and heavy, as if forged from a material that should not belong to this world.
During the fight with the demonic beast, he stumbled often, and his movements were sluggish. The monster's speed overpowered him, forcing him always on the defensive.
But rather than fall, he adapted. Slowly, his dodges sharpened. His footwork synchronized with instinct. Each swing grew cleaner, more refined. His strikes began to find the openings.
Unlike the other participants who were all about show, he was seemingly ordinary. He fought like a man learning to breathe again, unrefined yet terrifyingly earnest.
That said, the young man had a big flaw; he was not using any skills and fighting purely using his raw stats and the weapon in his hand. This went on for a little while longer before the proctor knight stopped the exam.
"That's enough"…
"But.." the young man tried to say something, but was shut down by the overseeing knight.
"You have shown plenty. Go outside the stage for the third test of the exam".
Dejected, the young man slumped his shoulders and stepped down from the stage.
"Interesting," On his seat, Reinhardt silently muttered to himself.
.
.
The third test began.
The air buzzed with tension as knights from every order stood ready at the edge of the arena. This time, each Great Order dispatched a squire to represent them.
Participants were brought forward and instructed to draw lots from an ornate box. Small pieces of cloth embroidered with the insignias of the seven knight orders rested within. The cloth they drew would decide which order's squire they'd face.
When the young, aspiring knights heard the rules, all of them wore ashen faces.
Fighting monsters had been terrifying, yes, but at least monsters were predictable.
Squires, on the other hand, had years of brutal training behind them. Combat experience. Discipline. The difference was like facing polished steel after wooden dummies.
The latter were people who were already half a step into becoming proper knights. The participants grit their teeth and walked up the stage one by one to draw their lots.
Soon, all the participants were holding a piece of cloth each that had the insignia of the respective knight order they were fated to fight.
One of the purple cloth pieces had the insignia of a beautiful white temple with angels enclosing it on the sides, looking grand and divine. The insignia was none other than the official symbol of the Order of the Temple of Light.
The one to draw it was a rose gold haired girl with drill curly pigtails and an exquisite face. She was wearing an elegant skirt and top and carried herself with an inborn nobility. Clearly, she was the daughter of some noble.
More importantly, she was one of the top three people who were crème de la crème of this year's batch. One of the level 4s who managed to defeat the possessed shadow wolf.
"So it's the Temple of Knight orders huh" The girl looked at the handkerchief and then at the squire sent from the Temple of Light before snorting and shifting her attention away.