Stepping out of that blinding white light, the three of us—Marcus, Jax, and me—were officially the only winners of the practical exam.Not that anyone watching would call it glamorous. Dirt streaked our faces, our clothes still smelled of sweat and smoke, and our eyes had that pleasant, vacant look that says you slept exactly zero hours in the last five days.
Well, they looked like that. I had the advantage of a few alertness potions and some cognition-boosting spells prepared in advance. Also, not running headlong into every fight helped. Compared to Marcus and Jax, I was basically immaculate.
Still—victory is victory. One we'd agreed on via a little "devilish" contract (which, yes, involved me).
I pulled a plate of pancakes I'd made earlier from my storage ring and took a bite while two pairs of starving eyes bored into me. This hall should've been where they rolled out the red carpet for victors. Instead, the place wore dried bloodstains and a few uncleaned spots of vomit like some tacky souvenir.
Guess the staff got dispatched to deal with the puppetized ones, I thought and started walking. Marcus and Jax followed behind, moving like zombies who'd misplaced their wills.
"Hey—want some pancakes?" I asked, drizzling honey over them. The two looked at my food as if it were a relic from a lost civilization. Honestly, I couldn't blame them: the food here was bland and sad, and if you wanted anything halfway decent, you made it yourself.
They both nodded furiously, eyes shining with desperation. They'd been fighting for hours without a bite to eat—and the smell of pancakes clearly broke whatever pride they had left.
With a sigh, I took out two extra plates and a jar of honey, tossing them over. "Here. Help yourselves."
Clack. Clack.
Just then Professor Wellay appeared at the great hall's entrance, papers in hand. She glanced at us, composed herself, and said: "Congratulations to your team—uh—on being the only ones to complete the practical exam."
Her voice was calm, but the expression on her face? Pure disbelief. Which made the scene unintentionally hilarious: three mud-covered, foul-smelling students sitting on the stairs, contentedly eating pancakes like refugees who'd just found civilization, and a senior instructor trying desperately to keep a straight face.
"Water?" someone asked."You've got any? I haven't had a sip all day.""Where'd you even get that honey?"
We answered with our mouths full while Wellay skimmed our report.
"…Alright," she said after a beat. "Congratulations again, Jax, Marcus, Ron. You completed the exam with—unexpected excellence. It's rare for a single team to win, but for one team to claim all eight relics—that's unprecedented."
She paused, trying to find the right words.
"You have two options. One: keep three of the eight relics—since each victor may claim one. Two: exchange them for other rewards, such as—"
"Option one," I cut in before she finished.
The other two blinked.
"Hey—wait, you—"
"Shouldn't we—"
I pulled them close and whispered a few things. A minute later, all three of us resumed eating like nothing had happened.
Professor Wellay sighed, stared at me for a long second, told us to rest before tomorrow's ceremony, and left.
...
I walked along a corridor of white marble—clean enough to reflect your face, which was unfortunate because mine looked terrible. On either side were infirmary rooms holding students who had failed. Researchers busied themselves, monitoring heart rates, mana flows, neural patterns. None of the patients were awake.
Apparently, they feared that if anyone regained consciousness too soon, the observation process would be ruined — or worse, they might relapse into puppet-like madness.
It wasn't impossible.There were plenty of cases where people's minds changed drastically after waking from certain dreams. Mental and soul-related anomalies could be unpredictable — like a laptop that works fine until you power it on, and suddenly one part malfunctions.
These researchers functioned as techs for the human brain: detect the broken part, patch it before the reboot, lock down the system if needed.
I wasn't overly worried. From what I remembered of the original story, Kale would be released soon enough—his Gift's effects were dramatic but not permanently crippling, and he hadn't accessed his final form. That's usually the condition for a long detention, and he didn't meet it. He'd be set free after stabilization.
I took a peeled boiled egg from my ring and nibbled as I walked to the room at the far end. Two men in white coats stood guard.
"Hey! Who are you?" one of them barked."No unauthorized entry."
Without saying a word, I handed him a small black card with white writing.
"You can't just—" He stopped mid-sentence after reading it.
"…Please wait here a moment."He pulled the others aside to whisper in private.
I couldn't hear what they said, but I could guess. It made things even more entertaining.
Five minutes later, they returned and opened the door.
"Please, go ahead. Have a good day, sir."
Their faces were perfectly neutral — the kind of blank expression you only get after years of practice.
I mirrored their neutrality as I stepped into the dim room—though the corner of my mouth may have twitched.
Glancing at the white signature on the black card, I confirmed it — the deputy director of the Magical Security Bureau.
When you have power, abusing connections becomes second nature, I thought, smiling faintly as I entered the dim room.
Inside, I saw rows of high-grade mana-powered machinery, the latest technology available.At the center, in a transparent containment chamber, lay Kale, fast asleep.A few scientists were running diagnostics around him.
I smiled again and took out two letters — one blue and one red.The blue one, I handed to a nearby researcher.The red one, though… that was for Kale.
...
"Waaah," Emma yawned dramatically as we rode on a giant paper crane—an ornate construct of folded mana and creaking hinges more than three meters tall. In a different story, this would be pretty. Here? It was normal.
I tried not to scream as I stared at the ground below. Heights had a peculiar way of keeping your wits pointed at the floor.
So I'm supposed to fight armies with a straight face but lose it on a flying origami bird? I thought.
Emma sat beside me, unbothered. She only cared about the destination—one I knew well.
Lionus Village.
After finals, students got a week off to prepare for the Grand Festival. Emma and I were heading home.
"Hey, drop the Lunas stuff for now. Aren't you planning to visit your family?" I asked.
"Maybe," she said, smirking in a way that hid a lot. "Why? You worried about them?"
"Poor family. They must've done something wrong in a past life," I muttered.
A month away from home wasn't much, but going back still gave me a weird, prickly feeling. Rest was on the schedule, but I suspected it would be busy rest.
I uncorked a familiar vial and took a sip, letting the view and the altitude do their thing.
…and then I remembered why heights are terrible.
F** this altitude,* I thought candidly.