The Academy's examination hall sprawled before Vel, its polished marble floor gleaming beneath enchanted chandeliers. Hundreds of individual desks filled the space in precise rows, each prepared with a quill and inkwell. Cool air greeted them after the sun-baked courtyard outside.
The unstable attunement students approached the hall entrance together. Tomas clutched a small notebook filled with dense annotations, reviewing his notes with intense concentration.
"I've been studying theoretical principles for weeks," Tomas explained, flipping through pages of meticulously diagrammed spell structures. "Though I'm still not sure if I really understand any of it..."
At the entrance, Severin Thornwood and several elite students blocked their path. His perfectly tailored uniform bore subtle embellishments marking his noble house, expression carrying practiced disdain.
"Well, look who decided to continue embarrassing themselves," he remarked, eyeing the unstable group. "Nice trick with the dummies, but this isn't something you can fake."
Tomas went rigid beside Vel, clutching his notebook tighter.
"Actually..." Tomas's voice was barely above a whisper. "I've been studying theory for years because... because I can't execute properly. Not that I'm an expert or anything, but..." He trailed off, looking down at his notes.
Severin's eyebrows rose in mock surprise. "Oh? The unstable group thinks theory will save them?"
One of Severin's companions snorted. "What good is knowing theory if you can't make it work?"
"And what good is making it work if you don't understand why?" Mira stepped forward. "When your magic eventually fails in a critical moment—and it will—will you have any idea how to fix it?"
The elite students exchanged glances, clearly unaccustomed to being challenged.
"I don't need to understand why fire burns to make it burn," Severin replied dismissively. "That's the difference between us. You theorize, we make it happen."
Vel remained silent, watching. Severin's fingers twitched slightly—less certain than he appeared.
"Maybe today will show which is more valuable," Mira suggested, voice level despite the provocation.
Severin's smirk wavered before he recovered. "We'll see about that." He turned to his companions. "Come on. I prefer not to stand too close to unstable magic—who knows when it might misfire."
As the unstable group moved forward, Instructor Lyvenna appeared beside them, watching the exchange with thoughtful eyes.
"An interesting confrontation," she commented quietly.
Vel said nothing, waiting.
"Those who struggle with practical execution often develop deeper theoretical understanding. The Academy tends to favor flashy demonstrations over foundational knowledge." She paused. "For written assessments, however... these are where one can best showcase their true understanding."
The seating arrangement made the Academy's hierarchy visible immediately. Elite students were directed to the central section with clear sightlines to the front. Those with clear but unremarkable affinities filled the middle rows, while the unstable attunement students were positioned at the periphery.
"Unstable attunement group, section four," an assistant called, pointing to desks near the western wall.
Archmagister Elyssia ascended the central platform, academic robes capturing the light from enchanted chandeliers overhead.
"Knowledge transcends all limitations. While strength may fail and strategy may falter, understanding endures."
Instructors began moving through the hall with stacks of parchment.
"This examination measures theoretical knowledge. Here, all students face the same challenges—regardless of noble birth or magical affinity. Understanding, not spectacle, shall determine your worth."
Whispers rippled through the hall. Elite students shifted uncomfortably—their practical advantages suddenly irrelevant. Nearby, Tomas straightened in his chair.
"You will receive enchanted parchment for your responses. These pages bear spells to ensure the integrity of your work. Your answers must be your own."
When the parchment reached Vel, he noticed its subtle sheen—anti-tampering enchantments woven into the material itself.
Curiosity hit Vel as he stared at the enchanted parchment before him. He couldn't help but toggle his interface to get a clearer look at what magical properties it possessed.
[Item: Enchanted Parchment]
Protection Enchantment. (Prevent damage)User bound Enchantment (Cannot transfer)Anti-duplicate Enchantment (Prevent copy)More details require [Appraisal]
There it was again—that [Appraisal] skill he'd been trying so hard to obtain without success. He needed to understand the sigil that would help identify object data, that one crucial 'function' call that would change everything he knew about this world's magic system.
Vel looked up, his gaze moving toward the clear attunement section. Suddenly, hundreds of windows displaying student names appeared simultaneously in his vision, making him flinch in surprise.
"Whoops," he muttered under his breath, quickly toggling the interface off.
As the windows vanished, he caught Celia's gaze across the hall. She gave him a determined nod. Near the front, Kein sat rigidly among the other elite students.
A bell chimed through the hall, bringing immediate silence. Only the rustling of papers and measured footsteps of proctors remained.
Vel skimmed through the questions, reading each one carefully. The first caught his attention immediately:
Theorize the disappearance of primodials.
His eyes moved down the page:
Formulate a spell that invokes two opposite elements (fire-water, dark-light)
Elaborate the equivalent hierarchy between each faction (Church, Royal, Guild)
List the name of each god and explain their domain.
His mouth curved slightly. These were questions he could answer—topics he'd researched extensively, both as Giri and during his time in this world.
Across the hall, Celia bent over her parchment, writing with focused determination. She didn't notice his gaze. She used to tease him mercilessly for being a "bookworm" whenever he'd shown interest in subjects like these. How many times had she rolled her eyes when he'd rambled about the pantheon or theoretical magic?
Elaborate on the Rift occurrence and the possible harm.
His smile faded when he reached the question about Rifts. The theoretical harm they could cause wasn't theoretical at all for him—or for Celia. Oakhaven's destruction rose in his memory, along with thoughts of Clara, Celia's sister, who had sacrificed herself fighting the creatures that emerged. Celia was probably facing the same memories as she wrote her answers.
Turning back to his own parchment, Vel tapped his quill thoughtfully. The real challenge wasn't the questions themselves, but determining how to answer them. Should he write what he knew from his perspective as Giri, the game's creator? Or should he limit himself to the common understanding of this world's inhabitants?
He needed to be careful—showing too much knowledge could raise suspicions, especially among the instructors who would review these answers. Yet answering with only superficial knowledge taught to children would hardly impress.
Balance was key. He needed to demonstrate uncommon insight while still remaining within the bounds of what a gifted student might conceivably know.
The quill clinked against the inkwell. Vel watched the subtle glow as ink dried on parchment, shimmering like the contract he'd signed with Nema—both enchanted to bind their signatories. He'd been careful with his answers, balancing what he knew as Giri with what a talented student might reasonably understand.
The examination hall remained hushed, the only sounds being the scratch of quills and occasional rustle of parchment. Most students still had considerable time left to complete their work.
Celia bent over her paper, quill moving steadily across the page. The same focus she brought to sword training now applied to academic work. Vel found himself smiling at the sight.
Nearby, Tomas scribbled furiously, filling every line with dense text. For someone who could barely light a candle, he certainly knew his theory
Farther ahead, Severin sat rigid in his expensive uniform. His usual smirk had vanished.
Vel's gaze drifted to where Kein sat among his new peers. Something about Kein's posture caught Vel's attention—rigid, almost performative in its perfection.
As Vel's eyes swept across the room, they met Professor Lyvenna's observant gaze. She'd been watching him, her expression unreadable but attentive. Vel maintained eye contact for a moment before returning to his parchment.
On his page, a perfectly rendered magic circle gleamed in still-wet ink. Thanks to his interface, he had reproduced the complex diagram with mathematical precision—each sigil placed exactly as it appeared in his vision, the mana flow patterns illustrated with perfect clarity. It was too perfect, perhaps, but he couldn't resist demonstrating his understanding of theoretical magic in the clearest way possible.
The bell rang, its resonant tone echoing throughout the examination hall. Vel looked up from his completed work, watching as students around him hurriedly scribbled final answers.
"Quills down," Archmagister Elyssia announced. "Remain seated until your paper has been collected."
Assistants moved through the aisles, gathering the examination papers row by row. Vel handed his over with mixed feelings—confident in his answers but uncertain if he'd managed to conceal his full knowledge well enough.
When finally permitted to stand, students filed out of the hall in orderly fashion, their composure lasting only until they crossed the threshold. The hallway erupted with animated discussions, anxious comparisons, and occasional groans of realization.
"Another thirty-minute respite before the last assessment," called out one of the proctors.
Tomas approached Vel, flanked by Mira and two other unstable attunement students. His earlier nervousness had transformed into eager intellectual curiosity.
"How did you handle the Fire-Water invocation question?" Tomas asked, voice stronger than usual but still hesitant. "The part about why they don't harmonize properly?"
"I said it's because their elemental natures are opposed—fire seeks to consume while water resists transformation," one of the other students offered.
"That's the common explanation, but it's not precise enough," Tomas said, though his voice wavered slightly. "The real issue is that Fire heats Water up causing it to lose its essence, turning it to hot steam instead. The Water spirit actually loses coherence during the process."
Vel almost corrected him automatically. What actually happened was particle acceleration causing an increase in temperature, changing the water's physical state—water molecules turning into vapor through increased kinetic energy. The water didn't "lose essence"; it simply transformed into a different form, following basic principles of thermodynamics.
But how could he explain modern scientific concepts to Tomas? The boy would think Vel was delusional, using strange terminology that had no place in their magical framework.
"That's... an interesting perspective," Vel said instead. "I approached it from a different angle."
As they walked through the Academy grounds, they passed Severin and his companions. The elite student's earlier confidence had dimmed somewhat, replaced by a thoughtful frown as he discussed something with his peers.
"Thornwood doesn't look as smug now," Mira observed quietly. "I think the theoretical questions were harder than he expected."
"Written tests don't care about your family name or affinity reading," Tomas added with satisfaction. "Only what you actually know."
Vel's conversation with Tomas was interrupted by raised voices coming from the courtyard. A small crowd had gathered, students forming a circle around what appeared to be an argument.
"What's going on over there?" Tomas asked, standing on tiptoes to see.
Vel recognized one of the voices immediately. "Celia?"
He moved quickly toward the gathering, weaving through curious onlookers until he reached the front. Celia stood rigid, face flushed red. Vel had never seen her this angry.
Across from her stood a girl with elaborate copper braids and a uniform that screamed nobility. Gold earrings with distinctive insignia caught the light as she gestured.
"Copper hair, those earrings with the family insignia..." Tomas whispered beside Vel. "That must be Lysithea Fairwind."
"—completely wrong about the fundamentals." Lysithea's voice carried absolute certainty. "Academy texts are quite clear—unstable rifts form from elemental imbalance."
"Your textbooks are wrong," Celia replied, voice tight. "Guild expeditions have documented rifts in perfectly balanced areas."
Several students exchanged glances. Challenging established academic doctrine was bold, especially for a scholarship student.
"Guild reports? Written by common adventurers who barely understand what they're seeing?" Lysithea scoffed.
A few students in the crowd frowned at the remark. One girl's hand moved instinctively to a Guild medallion hanging from her uniform.
"Those adventurers died getting that information—all so your 'scholars' could research it safely from their libraries."
"How quaint. Did the orphanage teach you to worship sellswords as experts?" Lysithea's smile was razor-sharp.
"Not worshipping. But at least show some respect for people who died for that knowledge. I thought it was well taught among nobility."
The courtyard went quiet. Even students who had been chatting among themselves turned to watch.
"You expect to teach me about respect and manners?" Lysithea stepped closer, invading Celia's space. "Know your place, orphan."
Her hand rose, clearly intending to slap. Celia's hand shot up, catching Lysithea's wrist mid-swing. Lysithea's eyes widened with shock.
"How dare you!" Lysithea's voice trembled with rage. "Your sister chose to play hero instead of being careful. Maybe if she'd valued her life more than glory, she'd still be here to fight her own battles."
Celia's free hand cracked against Lysithea's cheek. The sound echoed across the suddenly silent courtyard.
"What in the—" Vel muttered, frozen alongside everyone else.
Lysithea stumbled backward, more shocked than hurt, her hand flying to her reddening cheek. Her companions rushed to steady her, while whispers erupted through the onlookers.
"I dare because you're wrong." Celia's voice carried across the courtyard. "My sister didn't die for glory—she died trying to save people. And her sacrifice gave us the truth about rifts, not your precious textbook theories."
Students stopped smirking. Several looked away.
"Clara Freznoria. Platinum rank." Celia's voice steadied as she spoke her sister's name. "She documented seven unstable rifts before the eighth one killed her. Her research is Guild standard now."
Lysithea's mouth opened, then closed. Her jaw tightened.
"Striking a noble is a serious offense," she finally managed. "The Academy doesn't tolerate such behavior, especially from low class students."
"And assaulting fellow students isn't permitted for anyone," a familiar voice cut through the tension.
The crowd parted. Kein stepped into the circle, every movement precise. This wasn't the boy from Elnor.
"Lord Atherwind," Lysithea acknowledged, her demeanor instantly shifting to deference. "Thank goodness you're here. This common class student struck me—a clear violation of Academy protocol." Her voice carried the confidence of someone expecting immediate support. "Surely you agree such behavior cannot be tolerated?"
Kein surveyed the scene with perfect composure. His gaze lingered on Celia for a moment before turning to Lysithea.
"Knowledge is the Academy's second pillar." Kein's voice cut through the tension. "That includes accepting correction gracefully—and understanding that violence is beneath proper breeding."
Lysithea's face flushed deeper, but she nodded slightly. "Of course, Lord Atherwind. I was merely—"
The crowd hushed as Instructor Caldwen approached from the main building, stern expression visible even at a distance.
Kein's posture shifted subtly as he glanced toward the approaching instructor.
"It would be unfortunate if this incident required formal disciplinary action, wouldn't it?" Kein's voice carried just enough to reach Lysithea and Celia, but not much farther.
The implication was clear. Understanding dawned on Lysithea's face—Kein was offering her a chance to walk away before authorities became involved.
"A simple academic disagreement that got heated," Lysithea said quickly, straightening her uniform with practiced grace. "Nothing worth the instructor's time."
Kein nodded once, then turned to Celia. "I trust you're of the same mind?"
Celia's expression remained guarded, but after a moment she inclined her head. "Just a difference of interpretation. Nothing more."
With perfect timing, Kein stepped back as Instructor Caldwen arrived at the edge of the circle.
"Is there a problem here?" the instructor asked, sharp eyes taking in the scene.
"Not at all, Instructor," Kein replied with perfect politeness. "Just some spirited debate about rift theory. We were discussing how practical field research sometimes challenges traditional academic understanding."
Lysithea walked away, back straight but shoulders tight. The sideways glares she shot at Celia said everything. This wasn't over.
A few students lingered behind, watching Celia with mixed expressions. One boy in expensive clothing murmured to his companion, just loud enough for Vel to hear.
"Fairwind won't let this go. Commoners who forget their place usually don't last long here."
This was exactly the kind of trouble Vel had expected might happen to him, considering how Thornwood had singled him out during the initial assessment. Instead, Celia had become the target. Perhaps it was inevitable that commoners would clash with nobles in the Academy's competitive environment.
As the crowd dispersed, Kein departed without a backward glance, surrounded immediately by his usual entourage of elite students. Lysithea and her friends hurried in the opposite direction, whispering urgently among themselves.
Celia stood alone until she spotted Vel. Her shoulders sagged for a heartbeat, exhaustion flickering across her face. Then she straightened, jaw setting with familiar determination.
What had just happened? Had Kein intervened out of some lingering loyalty to his childhood friends? Or was it simply the calculated move of a noble maintaining Academy order?
Vel approached as Celia tucked her hands behind her back.
"That was..." Vel searched for the right word. "Unexpected."
"I shouldn't have hit her," Celia admitted quietly. "But I couldn't just—"
"She was wrong."
"Being right doesn't matter if I get expelled for striking a noble. I just made things worse for myself."
They began walking toward the servants' quarters where Hileya would be waiting.
"Kein seemed to defuse the situation," Vel offered.
"Lord Atherwind," Celia corrected with a bitter smile. "Should I be thankful for that? I really don't get what he's planning."