I stayed at the edge of the courtyard, my senses alert to every detail. The weaker students were attempting the level C training dummies, some trembling uncontrollably, others releasing bursts of chaotic mana that made sparks scatter across the stone floor. Each movement was a reflection of either talent or sheer lack of control.
'Interesting… the difference between natural talent and training is enormous,' I thought, analyzing the students' techniques. 'Some can barely muster enough mana to even touch the dummy. Yet they still step forward with confidence… foolish, or perhaps brave.'
With firm, deliberate steps, I approached the center of the field, where the evaluator stood, eyes sharp, scanning the crowd with practiced precision. I held the recommendation letter given by Vice-Director Emma Abrahan, feeling its weight in my hand, and stepped forward.
"For your consideration," I said calmly, handing the letter over.
The evaluator's eyes narrowed briefly as he examined the seal, then he gave a slow nod.
"Registered. Wait for your turn," he replied firmly, leaving no room for argument.
I stepped back, observing the others as they prepared and attempted the test. Some candidates released chaotic sparks of energy that fizzled harmlessly; others trembled so much that their mana sputtered out before reaching the dummy. Every failed attempt emphasized the stark difference between raw power and refined skill.
While waiting, I kept my feline eyes hidden beneath my blindfold. My darkness mana pulsed beneath my skin, tightly controlled, ready to be unleashed at the precise moment. Tiny veins around my eyes darkened, becoming visible like faint shadows etched into my skin—reminiscent of vampires revealing their fangs in old legends. It was subtle, but anyone truly observant would recognize the presence of true power.
'Time for Zealot,' I thought, recalling the sword art taught by Emma Abrahan. Each kendo movement I had trained for years fused perfectly with my dark energy, forming a seamless synergy of precision and strength.
As I watched, the candidates in front of me struggled against their dummies. Sparks of mana collided and fizzled in midair. One student swung a blade of energy too hastily, and the dummy absorbed the blow with only a slight dent. Another froze halfway through the movement, unable to release the flow of mana properly.
I caught a glimpse of a young elf with light blue hair and equally blue eyes, standing quietly at the edge, observing. Her posture was composed, her gaze sharp and evaluating. Something about her presence felt familiar.
'Wait… she… is Gabriela Asumi,' I realized, the memory of the novel flashing in my mind. 'In the story, she becomes a heroine who accuses the villain, playing a key role in her downfall… so that's why she's here. She isn't just any student.'
Gabriela measured my power discreetly, her eyes reflecting experience and determination, yet she did not approach. I sensed that she was not merely curious—she was calculating, assessing, learning.
Finally, after several candidates had completed their attempts, the evaluator's voice cut through the murmurs, booming across the courtyard:
"ARVEN!!"
The shout drew every gaze toward me. My heartbeat remained steady, but focus sharpened. I stepped forward, adjusting my stance, and moved to the center of the field. Every muscle, every breath, every subtle motion was under absolute control.
The level C dummy stood before me, designed to withstand moderate attacks. But my hands already held the energy of Zealot, channeling shadows and darkness around an invisible sword that shimmered with a strange, lethal elegance.
I took a careful step, allowing the flow of my mana to synchronize with my movements. The dark energy wrapped around my form, creating a faint aura that made the air feel heavy and charged. The veins around my eyes darkened further, now clearly visible, like a predator ready to strike.
'Focus. Precision. Control… everything counts,' I whispered to myself.
With a swift motion, I brought down the blade. Shadows and dark energy surged forward, slicing through the dummy with a deafening crack. Sparks of light and shadow erupted, dancing across the courtyard. The impact shattered the training dummy completely—the kind designed to resist attacks from anyone with C-rank mana could not withstand the combination of skill, strategy, and raw dark energy.
A hush fell over the field as the dust settled. My eyes, hidden beneath the blindfold, flicked to Gabriela Asumi. She observed silently, her expression neutral but analytical. Even from a distance, I could tell she was impressed, though she would never show it. The memory of the novel lingered in my mind: she was destined to confront villains, to intervene, to influence events. Here, in this world, she had already begun playing her part.
I exhaled slowly, maintaining control of my mana. The dummy was destroyed, but I knew this was only the first step. Every detail mattered—the precision of Zealot, the control of my dark energy, the flow of every movement. Brute force alone was meaningless.
'Interesting… she isn't just another observer…' I thought. 'Her presence here is significant. I should keep it in mind.'
The courtyard remained tense, charged with anticipation. My mana pulsed quietly, dark and patient. Every eye in the field was subtly tracing my movements, unaware of the full extent of the danger contained within the calm posture of the masked boy known only as Arven.
'This is only the beginning… the difference between strength and skill will become clearer soon,' I reflected, stepping back slightly, ready for the next phase of the evaluation. My control over Zealot, my kendo training, and my darkness mana were all aligned. Nothing would falter.