Chapter Twenty-Eight — The Magic Exam
The field designated for magic testing stretched wider than Mavis expected—flat golden grass, sun-warmed and humming faintly with mana. Targets of varying size and material were lined in three neat rows: clay disks, iron plates, and crystal slabs shimmering with protective enchantments.
Students gathered in tight clusters. Some whispered nervously, others flaunted confidence with too-loud laughs.
Mavis scanned the crowd—and froze.
Princess Seraphina Valehart stood among the applicants, posture iron-straight, hazel eyes forward, hands clasped behind her back. Even surrounded by nobles and prodigies, she looked like the still point in a storm—unshakable, composed, dazzling.
Mavis's gaze lingered.
And lingered.
And lingered.
Until Alya tugged sharply on her sleeve.
"Mavis. Stop staring before someone notices."
Mavis jerked her head forward, cheeks warm. "I wasn't staring. I was… studying."
"Studying her face?"
"…No."
"Her hair?"
"No!"
Alya smirked. "Sure."
An instructor stepped to the center of the field, holding a clipboard and looking like he hadn't slept in seven weeks.
"Groups of ten!" he barked. "Numbers 201 to 210, step forward!"
The first group shuffled nervously into place. Mavis felt her throat tighten as she realized—
Seraphina was in that group.
Her chest tightened strangely. Nervousness? Curiosity? Something else?
She tried to ignore it.
The first part of the exam was simple: core-tier evaluation. A glass-like orb rested atop a stone pedestal. Students placed their hand on it, and the orb glowed according to their core tier.
Tier One — white
Tier Two — blue
Tier Three — green
Tier Four — yellow
Tier Five — purple
Tier Six and above — red
Mavis watched intently.
"Number 201!"
A boy with shaky hands stepped forward. He touched the orb.
It glowed blue.
"Tier Two," the instructor announced.
A timid cheer went up from the boy's friends.
The next student stepped up—tier three, the orb glowing green. Then a tier one. A tier two. Another tier two. Another tier three.
Steady, unimpressive numbers.
And then—
"Number 208."
Princess Seraphina placed her hand on the orb.
The glass lit instantly.
And turned deep, vibrant purple.
Tier Five.
The crowd gasped.
Alya whispered, "Expected. She's late in tier three as a magic swordsman. Almost at tier four. Her mana core's been developing fast."
Mavis nodded slowly, impressed—and unsettled. Seraphina withdrew her hand casually, as if tier five meant nothing. As if that level of power was normal.
Mavis tore her gaze away.
The next group was called.
"Numbers 211 to 220, step up!"
Mavis's heart thumped. Her number—217.
The timid boy from earlier—211—stepped first. His hand trembled as he touched the orb.
It glowed blue.
Tier Two.
Ayla went next—her tail stiff with nerves. The orb glowed blue as well. Tier Two.
Four more students stepped up, giving a mix of tier ones and tier twos.
Then—
"Mavis Van Buqeat!"
Jerry flicked his tail anxiously.
Mavis swallowed, approached the orb, and pressed her hand against the cool surface.
Mana stirred in her chest—uncomfortable, familiar, restless.
The orb glowed green.
Tier Three.
But at its very center, just for a heartbeat—
A thin thread of black rippled through the green.
Mavis stiffened.
No one else reacted. No one else even noticed. Not even the instructor.
She stepped away quickly.
Before she could dwell on it, movement caught her eye—another group already beginning the next test. A boy cast a fire spell that struck a clay disk and shattered it.
Right. Offensive spell next.
They waited until the group ahead finished, then stepped into line for their own round.
Timid-boy-211 was first again. He cast a small fire puff—barely reaching the target before fizzling into smoke. A weak wind spell followed, blowing some dirt pathetically forward.
Not impressive.
Students after him had mixed results.
One noble cast a tiny earth spike that emerged crookedly. A commoner produced a gust of wind that seemed to blow himself backward more than the target. A beastman girl cast a spark that sputtered once and died.
Then—
"Alya Van Buqeat!"
Alya stepped up, rolled her shoulders, and raised both hands.
Fire flared at her fingertips—two small flames blooming simultaneously.
The crowd murmured in surprise.
She launched them together—dual-cast fire flares—and both shot forward, striking the iron plate dead center.
Students whispered loudly.
"She dual-cast?"
"That takes real control."
"She's better than she looks."
Alya walked back to Mavis with a smug grin.
Then it was Mavis's turn.
Mavis inhaled slowly and stepped up. She only knew one spell—water blast. Basic, simple… supposedly.
She lifted her hand.
Mana gathered.
She felt it pulling from her chest… her arms… her back… her legs—everywhere. A sweeping current surged through her veins, rushing toward her fingertips like a flood breaking loose.
"Steady…" she whispered to herself.
It wasn't steady.
A massive blob of water exploded outward—far larger than intended—shooting toward the instructor like a launched barrel.
He didn't move.
He didn't dodge.
He simply closed his eyes.
The water slammed into him with a resounding SPLASH.
He spit water out of his mouth in a thin stream.
"…Lovely," he said flatly.
Students snickered.
"Alright," he snapped. "Time for the defensive spell."
Mavis winced, cheeks burning.
Defensive spell.
She'd never cast one in her life.
Around her, students began summoning earth barriers, shields, or small rock walls. She tried not to stare too obviously at the princess in another lane—who'd already conjured a shimmering golden shield with effortless precision.
Mavis swallowed hard and stepped forward.
Water. She could only use water.
And she had no idea how to make it defend her.