The five gold crowns felt heavy in my pouch, a satisfying weight that represented our first true victory. It bought us a hot meal at a proper inn, a room with a single bed (I took the floor without a second thought, a gesture that made Elara's loyalty tick up another two percent), and most importantly, passage on a merchant's wagon train heading towards the capital city, Aethelgard, where Black Rose Academy was located.
The wagon ride was a week-long lesson in mundanity and human interaction. The merchant, a jovial man named Borin, was full of gossip and news from across the empire. I listened, my hood pulled up, saying little. Elara, however, blossomed. She chatted with the other travelers, her commoner background allowing her to fit in seamlessly. She was my unwitting spy, gathering information.
"...and the entrance exams for the Academy are in a fortnight!" Borin announced one evening around the campfire. "Biggest event of the season. Nobles from all over bringing their gifted brats. Lots of business for us common folk, too!"
"Is it difficult to get in?" Elara asked, playing her part perfectly.
"Difficult?" Borin laughed. "For commoners? Near impossible! You need a noble sponsor or a once-in-a-generation talent. The fees are astronomical, and that's after you pass their brutal practical exam. They only take the best of the best. Why? You thinking of applying, girl?" He gave her a kind, but skeptical look.
"Oh, no," Elara said quickly, glancing at me. "Just curious."
I said nothing, but my mind was racing. The practical exam. I hadn't written the specifics of it, only that the protagonist, Kaelan, aced it with his inherent brilliance. I had a decent mana core and unique traits, but my control was still basic. I needed an edge. I needed to know what we'd be facing.
That night, when the camp was asleep, I closed my eyes and willed myself into the Library.
The endless aisles materialized around me. Focus, I commanded. Black Rose Academy. Entrance Examination. Practical Test.
The central book floated forward, its pages rustling. It settled on a chapter titled Admissions Protocols. The text was frustratingly vague.
...The practical examination changes annually to prevent cheating, overseen by Combat Professor Vorlag and Arcane Professor Lyra. It is designed to test core competencies: mana control, tactical thinking, and resilience under pressure...
Useless. I needed specifics. I pushed my will harder, focusing on the current year. The System was a part of this world; it should have access to current data.
The page shimmered. New text, written in the same elegant script as the System notifications, began to write itself over the old paragraph.
...Current Year Examination: The 'Golem Gauntlet.' Applicants must navigate a labyrinthine course while being pursued by a single, adaptive stone golem. The golem's speed and strength increase incrementally over time. Elimination is via surrender or being tagged by the golem. Evaluation is based on time survived, distance traveled, and innovative use of abilities. Mana-based attacks against the golem are ineffective; it is designed to test evasion, control, and environmental manipulation...
A slow smile spread across my face. This was it. This was the cheat code. They were testing for cunning, not brute force. They were testing for a fox.
I spent the rest of the journey in a cycle of meditation, mana reinforcement, and shadow manipulation practice. I focused on efficiency, on making every point of mana count. By the time the spires of Aethelgard appeared on the horizon, my control was noticeably sharper. [Mana Manipulation: 18%]. [Shadow Tendril: 15%].
The city was a marvel of magic and stone, bustling with an energy that made Willowbrook look like a hamlet. And at its heart, perched on a cliff overlooking the sea, was Black Rose Academy. It was even more imposing in reality—a Gothic masterpiece of dark stone, twisting spires, and shimmering magical barriers. The air around it hummed with potent mana.
The gates were massive wrought iron affairs, shaped like twisting thorns, and currently swarming with hopeful applicants and their anxious families. Nobles in silks and velvets sneered at commoners in practical wool. It was a microcosm of the empire's inequality.
I kept my [Shadow Veil] active, the drain on my mana a constant reminder of the danger of exposure. Elara stuck close to my side, her eyes wide with awe and fear.
We joined the long line leading to the registration table. The man behind it, a senior student with a prefect's pin, looked bored.
"Name, House, and Affinity," he droned, not looking up from his scroll.
This was the moment. I couldn't use 'Arsene.' It was a death sentence.
I had prepared for this. I called upon the [Manipulation] trait, not to influence his mind, but to layer my voice with a subtle, compelling weight—a harmless, almost imperceptible nudge towards belief.
"Kael," I said, my voice calm and clear. "Of no major house. Affinity… for Shadow."
The prefect finally looked up. His eyes narrowed slightly at my hooded appearance and my commoner-style clothes. But his gaze lingered on my eyes—the slitted, fox-like amber eyes that peered from the shadow of my hood. They held a depth and intelligence that unsettled him.
"Shadow? A rare affinity. And your sponsor?"
"I have no sponsor. I will be paying the fee myself." I placed the pouch containing four of our five gold crowns on the table. It was everything we had.
He weighed the pouch, his skepticism clear. A commoner with a rare affinity and enough coin to pay the fee was unusual. But the coin was real.
"Very well. 'Kael of no house.' Here is your token." He handed me a simple copper disk with a number etched onto it. "Wait in the courtyard for your number to be called. The practical exam begins shortly."
I took the token and moved away, Elara following.
"Kael?" she whispered.
"A name is a mask," I replied quietly. "One of many we must wear to survive here."
We found a relatively quiet corner of the courtyard. I closed my eyes, centering myself, running the details of the Golem Gauntlet over in my mind. I needed to conserve every ounce of mana.
My number was called. I handed my pack to Elara. "Wait for me here."
She nodded, her expression fierce with determination. "Good luck, Young Ma—... Kael."
I walked towards the entrance of a large, colosseum-like building. Other applicants brushed past me—a fire-user who crackled with arrogant energy, a water-user who looked calmly confident. I was an island of stillness in a sea of nervous ambition.
The doors boomed shut behind us, plunging us into a dimly lit stone corridor. At the far end, a single door stood open, leading into a vast, artificially created canyon filled with crumbling pillars, narrow ledges, and dead ends. This was the gauntlet.
A hulking form of animated stone, easily three meters tall, stood motionless in the center of the arena. Its eyes glowed with a dull, blue light.
Professor Vorlag, a mountain of a man with a scarred face and arms crossed, stood on a high observation platform.
"Listen up, maggots!" his voice echoed through the canyon. "Your test is simple. Survive. That golem will activate in ten seconds. It will pursue you. It does not tire. It does not stop. Your magic will barely scratch it. This is a test of your wits, not your firepower. If you want to surrender, shout loud enough for me to hear. Begin!"
The golem's eyes flashed bright blue. With a grinding of stone on stone, it turned its head, its gaze sweeping over the forty-odd applicants.
Panic erupted. Applicants scrambled in every direction, fireballs and ice shards harmlessly splattering against the golem's chest. It ignored them, taking a single, earth-shaking step forward.
I didn't run. I stood perfectly still, pressed against a shadowed part of the canyon wall. I didn't need to outrun the golem. I just needed to outsmart it.
The game had begun. And I knew all the rules.