2

“Alright, let’s begin the practical magic exam! Simple enough—aim at the field and let loose your strongest spell. We’ll grade you on what we see.”

“May I ask something?”

A student circling the instructor raised a hand.

“What?”

“Are there any rules for scoring? Like, does a flashy spell score higher? Or how fast you cast it?”

“The criteria aren’t being shared. Which spell you choose—well, that’s part of the test.”

“Understood.”

Hmm. Tough call, that one.

When grading standard magic, there are generally three benchmarks.

Power, speed, precision.

Power, of course—how much destructive force your spell packs. Or, if it’s a control-type spell, how much you can manage at once.

Speed—how fast you can cast a spell. Simple ones, you can whip up quick. But if you can cast a big one fast, that’s where the points pile up.

And then there’s precision.

How close you hit the mark—where, how big, how strong—on a scale you’re given. The closer, the better the score.

This time, it’s the grassland, full power, maximum force. But that’s not much different from just testing power or speed.

Still, if the spell fires way off-target? That’s a deduction.

“How about it?”

“Tricky, isn’t it? There’s no clear standard for magic to begin with.”

“Yeah… exactly.”

Magic’s different for everyone—some people shine with it, some don’t. Every spell’s got its own flavor. Offense, enchantment, bolster, support. With so many kinds out there, trying to pin down one thing as “average”? Impossible.

With swords, you can test them by clashing them head-on. But magic? One wrong move and you’re gone before you even know it.

“Let’s just watch for now. Someone flashy’ll probably charge in soon.”

“Who, me? Don’t think I’m that kind of fool.”

I was just sizing up the situation when a voice cut through from one of the groups.

“Hey, you—aren’t you the one who came late? If you show up last, you’re gonna stand out like that lame move you made earlier.”

Right. Real clear. So I must’ve been bad with swords, so they figure I’m useless with magic too.

Well, commoners usually focus on swordplay, so it’s only natural their magic’d be weak—especially compared to nobles who’ve been tutored in magic since they were kids.

Rayla bristled at those words, eyes sharp, lips parting to speak.

I stopped her with a hand.

“What?”

“Perfect. Everyone’s just standing around watching, so let’s make them our clowns.”

“Ah, I see.”

Rayla caught on quick, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Not liking how we were whispering, the group pushed harder.

“Sneaking around with a girl? Wanting to be a knight while being protected? Real noble of you, huh?”

“““Yeah, real noble!”””

Ah, what predictable little brats.

"Sorry ’bout that. Still sore from the instructor’s slap earlier. You’re so confident, why don’t you go ahead? Go on, be my guest?"

I say it, then gently rest my hand on Layla’s shoulder and pull her close. She leans in too, resting her head on my shoulder, her hand slipping around my waist.

Looks like a love-struck couple, no mistaking it.

Predictably, one of the group narrows their eyes and lets out a tiny click of the tongue. The other classmates’ glances sharpen just a touch. Well, Layla’s as pretty as Ange—no slouch there.

But it’s working nicely, though. Layla’s got a real knack for this. Didn’t expect her to match my off-the-cuff act so perfectly.

"Got it! I’ll laugh my head off later—watch me! Instructor, I’ll go first!"

"Alright, go on then."

One of them steps up beside the instructor and activates their magic.

"Flame Bomb, Triple Installation. Open! Go!"

The grassland was swallowed by a thunderous boom and a flash of light—dust rising in the distance.

Hmm, triple ignition with explosive type. Sure, power and speed are top-notch. No shame in boasting. Not surprising, really—after all, they’re aiming to be Armunale pilots. Wouldn’t expect someone as plain as a comic book character to be bragging like this.

Talks big, but he’s got the moves. Triple-layered, sure—but that’s why it’s fast. Proper fighting technique, this one.

Yeah, he was a bit too much for his level, seems like.

There he was—boy who’d fired the spell, hands on knees, breathing hard through his shoulders. Looked like that one blast had worn him out pretty bad.

Magic’s supposed to tax the mind of the caster. For me, I’ve been using it since I was a kid, so I barely feel the strain—but Ange, when she first started, couldn’t even float a little with a flare booster without panting like she’d run a mile.

Funny thing, though. No physical strain, just out of breath. Ange says it’s like all her strength just… drains out. Feels a bit like being sick with a cold.

The boy glared hard at us, then stomped back down to the group. There, he got roughed up a bit by the others.

Ah, typical guy welcome. Oh—fell down…

“Alright, next one!”

“Me! I’ll go!”

One by one, the students who’d been watching cautiously stepped forward, unleashing their magic.

Most of them fired off triple-charge high-powered spells. A few rare ones went for four-charge medium power.

Seems like that’s what they call elite-level magic. Which means my own magic’s gonna be overkill if I go full throttle—both in power and in overlapping casts.

Well, no point in mocking myself here. The gap in swordplay’s already too wide. Gotta take what I can when I can.

“Now then, about time…”

“No, let me go first.”

I was just rising to my feet when Rayla pressed her hand against my shoulder, stepped forward ahead of me, and headed straight for the instructor.

I ended up stuck in a half-crouch, watching her back fade away.

Guess I’ll just sit back down in the grass and watch Rayla’s magic instead. What’s the magic of the swordplay champion like, I wonder? Kinda excited to see.

“Suu… haa… here we go. Ice World, Octuple Setup. Start!”

In an instant, the grass—already a mess of explosions, wind blades, and torrents of water—was sealed over in frost.

Frost spikes shot up from the grass, reaching nearly to the dome’s ceiling. That meant those ice pillars were thirty meters tall, at least.

The meadow had blinked—and vanished—into an ice world.

Even the students and instructors stood speechless at the sight.

I was the only one clapping.

“Damn. Octuple activation, wide-area spell. And the activation point? Perfect.”

There were exactly eight ice pillars. So the center of the spell had to be right there, among them.

They stood at equal intervals across the meadow, sprouting just far enough apart that their ranges barely touched. A flawless grasp of power, and perfect control. And not a trace of fatigue on Reiya’s face.

This might just deserve full marks.

But wow, really now—what a show.

Only a few of us, including me, didn’t use after-magic. After seeing something like that, shrinking back’s practically unavoidable.

I see now why she got here before me. Rayla, you’re out to crush me, aren’t you?

I glance toward Rayla, and she catches my eye—just a tiny, knowing smile flickers on her lips.

Even as a comrade, she’s still a rival—still is. Picking her spot to crush just enough to keep her useful, yet still scoring high.

She’s really throwing herself into becoming Armunale’s rider, huh.

But—

“Then it’s my turn.”

“Sorry, I got a little too eager.”

As I step toward the instructor, Rayla says with a cheeky grin.

Guess I’ll have to give you a little lesson.

“Anyway, your performance’s just right for me.”

“Then go on, try your best.”

"Watch and learn, then."

The instructors, finally back on their feet, each gave Rayla’s current spell a score, then turned to prepare for my evaluation.

Their eyes were... worried, somehow.

Yeah, fair enough. What comes after that spell? No matter how good the magic, it’ll look stale. Points’ll drop, no doubt. Normally, that is—

But I’m not normal. I’ll be using that ice pillar Rayla raised.

Using the terrain? That’s strategy, plain and simple.

"Ready?"

"Yeah, anytime."

"Then—"

I’ll use the same range-based, high-damage spell as Rayla. Naturally, I’ll push it to my limit: sixfold.

And only one spell can make use of that ice pillar.

"Airsquash, Sextuple Setup. Begin!"

The spell activates. It’s a force that pulls the air down from above, crushing it into the ground.

That’ll cover the entire area of Layla’s magic, at least—every inch where the ice pillar grows will be within range.

Right after activation, nothing changes. Two seconds. Three. The instructor frowns, puzzled—then, *crack!*—the ice pillars snap under the weight of the air, shattering all at once.

Some split clean down the middle, too weak to hold. Others peel away slowly, bit by bit, from the top.

But all of them collapse, shattering as they fall.

A thunderous crash as the pillars fall—still cracking, still breaking—then the air that’s been crushed by the fall blasts toward us in a gale.

A sudden, violent wind. Everyone ducks, pressing their faces into the ground. I’m channeling the spell, guiding the wind’s flow so it doesn’t slam into me. Otherwise, it’d be unbearable.

After about a minute, my magic fizzled out. All that was left was a dreamlike space, shards of broken ice drifting through the air, glittering under the sun’s light.

“M-meh, that’s about it, huh…”

Looking at Rayla, she’s gaping, mouth wide open, staring at the ice fragments. Then she notices my gaze—eyes narrowing, glaring at me sharp as a blade.

“Not so easy to crush, am I?”

“…Hmm. Maybe I do need to rethink your skill level a bit.”

“Keep your swordplay as awful as ever. Seriously, you can’t even manage that.”

We trade a few lighthearted jabs, just waiting for the instructor to wake up.

Five minutes passed before the instructor’s mind cleared. He called the next student—no one stepped forward. Well, fair enough. The other three, sorry about that.

The test ground had stalled completely, so the instructor snapped and made everyone blast their magic at once.

Standard triple high-powered magic, just like the others. Three of them all at once—well, that at least looked decent. Still, he’d probably dock points for making the instructor mad.

“Alright, that wraps up all the morning’s work. Afternoon’s written exam in the classroom. Start at one. Latecomers get disqualified—no exceptions. Pay attention. Dismissed.”

The instructors walked back toward the building, chatting about the earlier spellwork.

“Right, finally lunchtime. What’s your plan, Layla?”

The academy’s cafeteria and shop were both top-notch—free, no less. Included in the tuition and entrance fees.

I’m on scholarship, so it’s practically free. Can’t even look the Bodwan captain in the eye anymore.

“I’m heading to the student cafeteria. Eld?”

“I’m going there too. Want to come?”

“Sure.”

We head toward the cafeteria. Over our shoulders, the other students’ stunned stares stick to us like cold grease.