Fuck.
Why does this always happen to me?
Just as I was about to leave this godforsaken country for the first time aboard a ship, the traffic controller stopped it.
He let every other vessel pass.
But this innocuous little merchant ship?
Apparently, that was where he drew the line.
Still, I had no reason to be nervous. It's not like I'd done anything wrong.
The traffic controller, wearing a large yellow overcoat, entered the passenger hall with two followers in tow. Judging by their exhausted expressions, they were interns. Most government departments recruited directly from the major universities. Some privileged students even managed to secure internships during their breaks.
Of course, most of those internships paid in "exposure."
The plight of interns, it seemed, was universal.
I would've ended up just like them if I'd decided to stay and enroll. But no. I'd rather take risks and seek adventure than become another mediocre magic technician.
Sigh.
If only I had a little more magic power...
The intern assigned to our row stopped in front of the passenger seated ahead of me.
"Identity, please."
"The fingerprint device," the man answered. "I can't use magic."
Apparently, I wasn't the only one surprised, because the guy looked completely like a mage.
Most people living in Mythilia couldn't tell you that mages looked very different from ordinary humans. Normal humans were rare here. Most people could go their entire lives without meeting one.
Although the man hadn't said he wasn't a mage.
Only that he couldn't use magic.
And judging by how casually he mentioned the fingerprint device, he was already familiar with the procedure.
"Josh, over here."
Our intern waved toward the second intern.
A small black box sailed through the air.
Josh tossed it over without a word.
I stretched my neck to get a better look.
The device looked vaguely familiar. I'd handled plenty of human-made equipment before. Judging from the baffled expressions around me, however, everyone else seemed completely lost.
When my turn came, I extracted a bit of energy from my non-magic-university-eligible, third-grade, pitifully-weak magic core and directed it towards the input port, where the fingerprint device was connected earlier.
The intern seemed perplexed as he read my information that came up on the portal.
He glanced at the portal.
Then at me.
Then back at the portal.
"Could you input it again, please?"
Sure, my guy. I've got your back.
Poor interns couldn't even get functioning equipment.
I didn't say anything and once again accessed my non-threatening, barely-better-than-bottom-tier-trash, magic core. The guy again checked my info.
Again, he examined the display.
This time, his frown deepened.
"Sir, I'm going to need you to come with me for a moment."
Aw, shit.
'For a moment' - yeah, you say that now, but people - especially those with a non-substantial, puny-little-feeble magic core, disappeared awfully fast in this country. Though I'm sure if uncle Hestian was alive he'd say it's better than living as a literal slave in Xenria.
"Yeah, sure."
Not like I had much of a choice.
As I stood, a familiar thought crossed my mind.
It's because of how I look, isn't it?
I'd dealt with subtle discrimination ever since arriving in Mythilia. Usually it came wrapped in polite smiles and carefully chosen words.
This was almost refreshing.
Go on.
Tell me you hate me.
None of those cowardly little hints.
Look me in the eye like a man and—
"Sir, it says here that you've received an invitation from the B.R. Tuffel School of Magic Technology."
...
Say what now?
"I'm afraid university students aren't permitted to leave the country without approval."
The B.R. Tuffel School of Magic Technology was one of the thirteen Magic Universities established after the World War to nurture future magic practitioners.
Well, nurture and control them.
But that was beside the point.
I was pretty sure I'd failed the entrance exam this year too.
Why else would I be sitting aboard this shitty merchant ship?
I had turned nineteen yesterday, making me ineligible for future attempts. Even if I weren't, I had no idea what else I could do to improve my magic power short of joining the military.
No entrance exam meant no university.
No university meant no certification.
No certification meant no future as a magic practitioner.
So maybe check that little device again, intern?
"Can you show me the portal?"
The intern hesitated before rotating the projection toward me.
Name: Neal
Age: 19
Status: Resident → Citizen
Designation: Student (!)
I focused on the last entry.
It expanded.
Student
Invited to the B.R. Tuffel School of Magic Technology as a Grade B Reserve.
Holy shit.
It was real.
I stared at the words for several long seconds.
Then I came to a horrifying realization.
I was absolutely, massively, unquestionably fucked.
To understand why, we need to go back a little.
"Yo, Gary."
I greeted the guard as he waved me through the barrier.
My shift was over, and I was heading to the equipment room to remove my gear.
"...it is a sad day for the people of Mythilia as, after an illustrious career spanning more than three decades, Tocho Rina has decided to hang up his gauntlets..."
A news broadcast played on a massive portal mounted to the wall.
Apparently, some famous Gliball player had retired.
I knew next to nothing about sports, but the guys around me looked devastated.
"My dad used to watch every match with me."
Hados stared at the screen, eyes glistening.
"We only had a single-cell portal back then. Didn't matter how bad things got. If Tocho was on the crease, we knew we'd be okay."
His voice cracked.
"Oh, Tocho..."
A tear rolled down his cheek.
I immediately looked away.
Strong emotions always made me uncomfortable, especially when I didn't understand them.
Instead, I walked over to Old Man Jin.
"It's really that big of a deal, huh?"
Old Man Jin nodded slowly.
"You wouldn't understand, Dreggo."
The word would've sounded insulting from almost anyone else.
From him, somehow, it felt affectionate.
"When Xenria invaded the Nico Islands, people were terrified. Nobody knew whether they'd be alive the next day. Young men were shipped off to the front lines by the thousands."
He glanced at the broadcast.
"But that was also the year Tocho Rina went nineteen and zero."
A faint smile appeared on his weathered face.
"For five or six hours every day, he let Mythilia forget there was a war."
I followed his gaze toward the screen.
I still didn't understand sports.
But I thought I understood that.
It would've been poetic if my final day coinciding with Tocho's retirement actually meant something.
Unfortunately, I wasn't even one percent the legend he was.
In the entire organization, maybe five people knew my name.
I was labor.
The lowest rung on the ladder.
Still, I had enough savings to survive for two months.
And in forty-five days, the Sixteenth National Entrance Examination for Magic Education would begin.
For the fourth time in my life, I intended to bet everything on it.