Chapter Four – It's Impossible for Failure to Be This Difficult
While he couldn't believe he had reached the exam location, (Leon) was struck with astonishment.
The congratulatory chimes were still echoing in his ears, a cruel, cheerful soundtrack to his doom.
So much so that, without noticing, his mouth had opened.
It was a perfect, comical 'O' of sheer, unadulterated shock. His jaw felt unhinged.
But of course, for others, if they were able to see him at this moment, they would only notice that his face displayed a calm coldness.
Years of training in maintaining a facade of bored indifference under familial scorn had forged his expression into an impenetrable mask. The muscles acted on autopilot.
As if he was expecting this result.
He looked like a master strategician whose plan was unfolding exactly as predicted, not a drowning man who had accidentally swum to shore.
But in his mind, which was working at maximum speed, he was debating the facts that were in front of him.
Mental gears ground together, emitting a phantom screech of cognitive strain.
—He had reached the exam location that was supposed to be at the mountain.
The stupid, majestic, eagle-pointed mountain.
But he was now at the lake.
The serene, traitorous, correct-answer lake.
He thought for a moment and arrived at a conclusion he found logical.
Perhaps the eagle wasn't the one that would lead to the path.
His brain latched onto this like a lifeline. Yes! The eagle was a double-bluff! A trick within a trick!
But rather, in truth, whether it was the mountain or the lake, both were locations for the exam.
So, he hadn't made a mistake.
A wave of relief washed over him, cold and brief. He hadn't accidentally succeeded. He had just… arrived at one of two possible starting points. That was all.
But he had only failed to fail.
The relief curdled instantly. The outcome was the same. He was still here, progressing, his failure slipping through his fingers like water from this accursed lake.
The matter was very philosophical, and he was thinking about it.
The existential dread of a man trying to fall down a staircase only to find himself inexplicably ascending. Was it fate? Was it the universe's perverse sense of humor?
But it didn't matter anymore.
He shook his head, a sharp motion that made his white hair swish. Philosophy wouldn't get him expelled. Action would.
Now he must fail.
The thought was a clarion call, refocusing his scattered, panicked mind.
"I will not pass this test. I am sure of it."
He said it out loud, his voice flat and determined, echoing slightly over the placid water.
Certainly, if anyone had heard this, they would have doubted their ears.
The sheer, bizarre dissonance of it—a student at Celibro Academy, in the middle of an exam, declaring with conviction that he would not pass.
How could a student say with all pride that he wants to fail?
But for (Leon), that was the only dream he had to achieve before going to his life full of luxury in the future.
It wasn't a dream of power or knowledge. It was a dream of beaches, fine food, and absolutely zero responsibility. A dream worth fighting—or rather, not fighting—for.
"So, now, how can I fail this test?"
He rubbed his hands together, the leather gloves making a soft, dry shushing sound. Time for a new, better, more foolproof plan.
"In the beginning, this place doesn't seem like a big test, does it?"
He scanned the peaceful lakeshore again. No monsters. No puzzles. Just water and runes.
"After the sounds that announced my arrival to the exam location disappeared, it seems it didn't tell me what the test I must undergo is."
The voice had congratulated him, then vanished. Rude and unhelpful.
"Therefore, I must use my intelligence."
He puffed out his chest slightly. If there was one thing he trusted (besides his desire to fail), it was his own cleverness.
In the beginning, (Leon) began to check the place.
He walked along the water's edge, his boots sinking slightly into the soft mud with each step, making a series of soft, sucking plops.
It was a lake in front of (Leon); a blue and pure lake.
The water was so clear he could see smooth, colorful stones on the bottom, shimmering in the dappled light.
At the same time, he looked at the writings.
His eyes, sharp and scanning, caught more of the glowing runes he'd seen earlier.
Which were simply present on the other side of the lake.
They were etched into a large, flat rock that jutted out into the water, impossible to miss.
Which said:
—The sorcerer believes only in himself and does not believe in others.—
The words glowed with a steady, blue light, pulsing gently as if with a slow heartbeat.
Of course, this description was very philosophical.
It was the kind of vague, profound-sounding nonsense that filled self-help books for aspiring wizards.
And (Leon), thanks to his intelligence and his knowledge of novels from his previous life, arrived at the conclusion.
A slow, cunning smile spread across his face. He had it. He understood the trap.
"I understand the matter."
He pointed a dramatic finger at the runes.
"Since 'the sorcerer believes only in himself,' then as long as I believe in other things, I will pass the test, won't I?"
His logic was impeccable. If the ideal is self-belief, then the opposite—believing in external things—must be the path to failure.
"Therefore, the condition for passing the exam is that I do the things I think of myself…"
He paused, working it through.
"...So, I must follow other things."
He nodded, supremely satisfied. He would outsource his decisions. He would trust the wind, the water, a stray squirrel—anything but his own judgment.
Usually, for (Leon), the only way in which he would be able to pass this test…
He projected forward, imagining the path of a successful student.
And certainly, to reach the other side.
He looked across the wide lake. The far shore was visible, a dark line of trees in the distance. That was clearly the goal.
And to reach it, he must trust himself.
He could see it now: a true sorcerer, confident in their power, would use their magic to cross the water. They would believe in their own ability to conjure a bridge, freeze the surface, or simply fly.
This means, for the sorcerers, they must trust their own magic.
But (Leon) had not begun learning sorcerous arts yet.
A key point! His magical knowledge was theoretical at best, gleaned from the unread advanced books in his room and the snippets he'd overheard.
And he only has a little understanding of magic.
His spiritual power was a faint, sputtering candle compared to the bonfires of his peers.
Therefore, if he wanted to not pass this test, he must do the opposite.
The formula reasserted itself: Identify Success -> Invert -> Achieve Glorious Failure.
With simple steps, (Leon) reached the lake and smiled.
He stood at the very edge, the toes of his boots almost touching the water.
"They should use their sorcery, their magic, to reach that place."
He gestured grandly towards the far shore.
"Therefore, if I do not use my own magic, and I do not use any magic at all..."
His smile widened into a grin of pure, malicious glee.
"...If I just dive into this lake, doing something no sorcerer would ever do, then I will use the most primitive method to pass this test!"
He caught himself. Fail! He meant fail this test! The semantics were betraying him!
After praising his intelligence, (Leon) without hesitation looked and smiled in front of the lake.
He gave the water a confident, challenging nod. You will be my instrument of failure.
Before he retreated several steps.
He walked backwards, counting each step. One... two... three... His boots scraped on the stones.
And after that, he ran.
He took a deep breath, his lungs filling with the crisp forest air, and launched himself forward.
The sound of his sprint was a rapid thump-thump-thump-thump on the soft ground, then a heavier crunch-crunch-crunch as he hit the rocky part of the shore.
Before he jumped into the water.
He didn't do a graceful dive. It was a desperate, leaping cannonball, arms and legs flailing slightly.
SPLAAAAASH!
The impact was immense, sending a huge plume of water into the air that rained back down with a sound like a thousand tiny pats. The serene mirror of the lake was shattered into a million chaotic ripples.
After he jumped into the water, he was sure he would feel suffocation quickly.
He had never been a strong swimmer. In his previous life, his idea of exercise was clicking a mouse. He sank like the stone of his ambitions, the cold water closing over his head with a final, bubbling gurgle.
And then, the exam supervisor would discover him, take him out, and tell him he had failed.
He imagined strong hands hauling him from the water, a disappointed voice saying, "Pathetic. You didn't even try to use magic. Expelled."
And of course, (Leon) would pretend to be sad.
He practiced his 'drowned rat of shame' expression underwater, bubbles escaping his nose.
But in truth, he would smile for that.
He couldn't help it. A triumphant grin started to form on his face, which immediately caused him to inhale a bit of lake water. He choked, a stream of panicked bubbles erupting. Glub-glub-glub!
But before he felt anything, he was surprised by the light that began to appear in front of him.
Just as his lungs began to burn in earnest, a warm, golden glow enveloped him. It wasn't the cold blue of the runes. This was different. Soothing. Like being wrapped in a magical blanket.
And this time, (Leon), afflicted by appearances, couldn't move.
The light held him in a gentle but unbreakable embrace. He floated, suspended, unable to kick or thrash. It was strangely peaceful, if one ignored the imminent threat of academic success.
But with the appearance of the light, an idea appeared in (Leon)'s head.
His brain, always seeking the most catastrophically optimistic interpretation, supplied it.
"It's certain that the teacher will now take me out and tell me I have failed."
Hope, that treacherous thing, blossomed in his chest.
"This is certainly the circle that will transfer me to the school gate and make me fail."
Yes! A magical ejection system for idiots who try to drown themselves instead of using sorcery! It made perfect sense!
"Come to me quickly!"
He mentally beckoned the light, his red eyes, glowing happily even underwater, fixed on the golden radiance.
He entered the water, (Leon) couldn't speak.
His mouth was full of water and hope. But his red eyes were glowing with happiness.
They shone like submerged rubies, beacons of anticipated failure.
...
In front of the screen, (Michael), the teacher known for natural and psychological science, was smiling for the first time in years.
The usual placid coldness of his face had thawed into an expression of genuine, bewildered delight. The corners of his mouth were actually turned up.
He had expected the student called (Leon) to fail to understand the essential meaning of his test.
The test was a psychological trap, a litmus test for independent thought and the courage to defy one's own conditioning.
But the thing (Leon) did had surprised (Michael) himself.
Watching the boy sprint away from the eagle was one thing. Watching him perform a suicidal swan dive into the lake based on a philosophical inversion was something else entirely.
(Michael)'s test was simple.
On the surface: "The sorcerer believes only in himself and does not believe in others."
But in truth, this in itself is something wrong.
The elegant twist. The written words tell you simply that you must believe in yourself.
Therefore, you should not believe in it.
The statement was a liar. To believe the words 'believe only in yourself' was to believe in an external instruction—a contradiction. True self-belief would involve questioning even that commandment.
The way to succeed in this exam was simply not to trust anything.
Not the eagle, not the runes, not even the seemingly wise adage. It was a test of absolute, skeptical self-reliance.
And not using magic.
And jumping into the water with all bravery.
Only the intelligent and those with good intuition would be able to reach this meaning.
It required a mind capable of meta-thinking, of seeing the test itself as part of the puzzle.
But it might require at least hours or even minutes to understand this meaning for a sorcerer.
(Michael) had seen brilliant students sit by the lake for hours, meditating, trying to decipher the runes, attempting increasingly complex spells, never realizing the answer was to abandon the magical mindset entirely.
But how long did (Leon) take?
Two minutes only before he jumped into the water.
From arrival to dramatic, soggy leap: 120 seconds. Maybe less.
This amazing matter forced (Michael) to laugh.
A real, audible laugh escaped him—a short, sharp Ha! that sounded foreign in his quiet observatory. He even forgot to drink the tea beside him.
The porcelain cup sat forgotten, growing cold.
"How amazing. He is a very smart student. I am very happy. Finally, there is a student who possesses talent and a good mind."
He spoke to the empty room, his green eyes fixed on the scrying orb where the golden light was now fading, having deposited a sputtering, confused (Leon) somewhere new.
After that, (Michael) wondered,
"Did (Mile) send him after knowing he was talented to this degree? Perhaps only (Mile) and I will appreciate such talent that relies on intelligence and does not rely on brute force."
He felt a rare sense of camaraderie with his colleague. They had found a diamond in the rough, a student who failed upward with such spectacular grace.
In the end, (Michael) sat on his chair.
He lowered himself slowly, the leather sighing beneath him.
At the same time, several magic circles appeared beside him.
They materialized in the air with soft pops and hums of energy, each one a different color.
A number of students began to appear after passing (Mile)'s test.
They stumbled or stepped gracefully into the observatory, looking around with varying degrees of confusion and pride. The room began to fill with the sound of shuffling feet, muttered conversations, and the rustle of robes.
One of these students, who was the first person to have come out, was a student with blond hair and blue eyes.
His hair was perfectly styled, his uniform immaculate. He carried himself with an air of innate superiority.
Known as (Christopher Systinger).
He was looking at the hall he had arrived at with bewilderment.
His blue eyes scanned the circular room, the scrying orbs, the impassive (Michael). This wasn't the grand entrance hall he'd expected.
After that, he was looking at (Michael), who was smiling while looking at the screen.
(Christopher) followed his gaze, perplexed. What was so interesting?
(Christopher) looked in the direction (Michael) was looking.
His eyes found the main scrying orb, which was currently displaying a figure.
Which showed the figure of (Leon) standing in front of the gate of the final test.
The image was crystal clear. (Leon), soaked to the bone, white hair plastered to his head, water dripping from his clothes with a steady plink-plink-plink onto an ornate stone floor. He was utterly expressionless.
He is without expression.
The perfect, bored mask was back in place, hiding the raging inferno of panic and frustration within.
(Christopher) was struck with astonishment.
His jaw tightened. His hands clenched at his sides, the knuckles turning white.
"How can he clear the tests this quickly?"
The thought was a silent scream in his mind. He had barely finished (Mile)'s maze, and this… this disgrace was already at the final gate?
"Damn him! Even after going back to the past, I still can't surpass this person? Is he just invincible?"
The internal monologue was furious, poisoned by a history (Leon) knew nothing about.
(Christopher) cursed him in his head.
A silent, virulent stream of profanity. Damn you, (Leon de Felix). Damn your white hair and your red eyes and your infuriating, effortless-seeming progress.
And he was looking at the figure of (Leon) that was standing calmly.
In the orb, (Leon) simply stared at the grand, ornate gate before him, as if contemplating whether it was worth the effort to open it. The very picture of arrogant nonchalance.
And she is looking at the gate.
...
(Leon) does not know now what he should say.
The golden light had deposited him not at the school gates, but in a dry, opulent corridor. He was dripping wet, a puddle forming around his boots with a soft, spreading shhh.
He felt the cold all over his body.
A deep, bone-chilling cold from the lake water, and a deeper, soul-chilling cold from the realization. His teeth wanted to chatter, but he clenched them shut with a loud click.
And he didn't know what to think about.
His mind was a white-out blizzard of confusion. The map was gone. The compass was spinning.
How could he succeed in the test while doing the things that should not make him pass them?
He had done everything wrong! He had followed nothing, used no magic, and attempted aquatic suicide! That should be the resume of a perfect failure!
He didn't even use any skill!
Not a single spark of magic. Not a hint of spiritual sensing. Just pure, unadulterated physical incompetence.
Isn't passing Celibro Academy's exams supposed to be difficult?
That's what everyone said! The rumors, the stories, the fearful whispers! These were meant to be grueling trials that weeded out all but the most exceptional!
So why does he keep passing the exams with such ease?
Each one faster, more humiliatingly simple than the last.
Where is the difficulty?
He wanted to scream it at the vaulted ceiling. SHOW ME THE DIFFICULTY!
He doesn't even exert effort!
He was trying not to! His entire being was dedicated to non-exertion!
Is it possible that there is a hidden hand helping him pass these tests?
A new, terrifying thought wormed its way into his mind. A conspiracy. Was someone… helping him succeed? Sabotaging his sabotage?
But why would someone do such a hateful thing to him?
Success was the poison, failure the antidote. Who was his secret enemy, forcing this bitter medicine down his throat?
Who is his enemy who is helping him pass these tests?
The question echoed in the hollow chamber of his skull. An enemy who aided you was far more frightening than one who attacked you.
(Leon) did not know who that person was.
He scanned the empty corridor as if the mysterious benefactor-tormentor might be hiding behind a tapestry.
But he knew one thing.
His red eyes hardened, glowing with a new, dark purpose.
He would never forgive the person who is helping him.
The vow was silent and absolute. This was now personal.
Whoever was forcing him away from his future life of leisurely bliss…
—He forced (Leon) himself to stop thinking about this matter so as not to burn his brain cells.
He could practically smell the smoke. With a visible effort, he shook his head, sending droplets of water flying in a small arc with a splatter.
And focused on the gate in front of him.
It was massive, wrought from dark, aged bronze and inlaid with silver and mother-of-pearl. It depicted scenes of great sorcerous battles and profound contemplations.
Which began to stir and emit a golden light.
As he stared, the great gate trembled. A deep, grinding groooooan echoed through the corridor, the sound of ancient mechanisms awakening.
After it opened, (Leon) found himself inside a royal hall.
The doors swung inward silently despite their weight, revealing the space beyond.
It was filled with diamond chandeliers.
Dozens of them hung from a ceiling so high it was lost in shadow. They sparkled with a million refracted points of light, casting rainbows on the walls. The faint, crystalline ting of swaying prisms filled the air.
In addition to many artistic paintings.
Masterpieces in gilded frames lined the marble walls, depicting landscapes, portraits of legendary mages, and abstract swirls of magical energy.
In the middle of this hall, there was a beautiful woman.
She appeared to be in her twenties, with long black hair that reached her waist.
It was hair so dark it seemed to absorb the light from the chandeliers, a river of ink cascading down her back.
And black eyes staring at him with extreme calmness.
Her gaze was unnerving. It wasn't hostile, but utterly penetrating, as if she could see the water in his lungs, the failure in his heart, and the stupid, hopeful plan still sputtering in his brain.
"I admit, this time is very record-breaking."
Her voice was melodic, smooth, and carried an air of mild amusement. It echoed softly in the vast hall.
"I did not expect someone to pass the exams at this speed. But since you have reached my exam, you are ready for my test."
After that, (Nirvana), one of the special teachers of Celibro, drew a magic circle in the air.
Her fingers moved with practiced, elegant grace, tracing intricate patterns that shimmered into existence with a sound like whispering silk. The circle hung in the air between them, pulsating with a soft, violet light.
"My exam is to see your desires."
She stated it simply, as if asking for the time.
"As long as you can think enough to enter Celibro Academy, you will be able to pass the exam."
(Nirvana)'s exam was easy.
On the surface. Deceptively, treacherously easy.
All the student had to do was enter the world of dreams.
The circle before him was a portal not to another place, but to the inner landscape of his own mind.
There, he would face his greatest desire for entering the academy.
Whatever the reason that drives him to the academy, he must continue facing it and facing the obstacles.
The dream would conjure challenges based on that core desire, testing his resolve, his purity of purpose.
In the end, if he manages to pass her exam, he will be able to face his desire to enter Celibro Academy.
It was a test of motivation. Did you want power? Knowledge? Recognition? The dream would make you work for it, and in doing so, reveal if your want was strong enough to sustain you.
Of course, the pride of this exam, which (Nirvana) did not tell the students about…
Her lips curled in a subtle, knowing smile.
Was that if you entered the dream world, the stronger the desire, the greater the difficulty of reaching it.
It was a cruel, beautiful paradox. The more you wanted something, the harder the dream would make it to obtain, testing the strength of your will against the magnitude of your want.
And at the same time, all the bad desires in your head will attack you every time you desire to enter Celibro Academy.
Ambition could turn to greed. Thirst for knowledge could become obsession. The desire for strength could morph into a lust for domination. The dream would conjure these shadow-selves, these corrupted versions of your goal, to tempt and terrify you.
Therefore, the exam simply aims to teach that difficult goals need solid will to reach them.
A simple, brutal lesson.
This exam, which was difficult for most students, (Nirvana) wanted to see the students trying to pass the exam she had designed.
She was a connoisseur of struggle, a painter who used human longing as her canvas.
"Are you ready, student?"
The magic circle was activated. It spun slowly, the violet light deepening.
She looked at the student and asked (Nirvana) with all calmness.
As if she didn't care about anything. Her demeanor was one of sublime, almost bored, confidence.
The face of the young man in front of her was pale.
The cold from the lake, the shock of successive unwanted successes, had leached the color from his skin. He looked like a marble statue of a drowned aristocrat.
At the same time, his hair was white and his eyes were red.
He looked as if he was not afraid of anything.
The perfect mask held. The absolute, frozen indifference was a work of art.
His face was frozen and full of cold indifference.
(Leon) advanced and said,
"Is your test one that is difficult to fail?"
The question hung in the opulent air, absurd and blunt.
(Nirvana) was surprised by this question.
Her perfectly calm expression flickered for a nanosecond. Her dark eyes widened just a fraction. She had not expected such a question from a student.
But after she thought, perhaps the student feels arrogance after passing the previous exams.
It made sense. A rapid ascent could inflate even the most modest ego. This was a test in itself—to prick that bubble of pride.
Therefore, she smiled coldly and said,
"My test is the most difficult. It is impossible for anyone to pass it."
She infused her words with a hint of her own immense spiritual pressure. A subtle, chilling aura emanated from her, making the nearby chandeliers tinkle softly. Ting-ting-ting-a-ling.
She expected the student's confidence to change at this moment.
Especially after she released her aura while saying these words.
She had seen many brash students wilt under this display, their bravado evaporating like morning mist.
But the strange thing was that the student seemed like his lips had moved in an unusual way.
A tiny, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of (Leon)'s mouth. Not a frown. Not a grimace.
It made him look as if he was a person who had a cunning plan.
Before he said with extreme calmness, at the same time in a tone that seemed like a sarcastic laugh,
"That is very good. I hope I lose. No, I am sure I will fail this exam."
The words were delivered with such flat, sincere conviction that they bypassed sarcasm and landed in the realm of sheer, baffling statement of fact.
Again, (Nirvana) did not understand the meaning of the young man's words.
She dismissed it, thinking it was just sarcastic speech directed at her.
As for her, an old sorceress at the age of 30, she was used to the ideas of arrogant youth.
The arrogance of the young was a constant, like the sunrise. Predictable, often annoying, but ultimately meaningless.
Therefore, she didn't care much.
She merely looked at him and directed the magic circle.
"Yes, student. Certainly you will lose. You will lose horribly, and you will fail the exam."
She said that with confidence in her words.
She was sure her exam would stop all the arrogant ones. It had broken students with far more visible talent and far louder boasts than this pale, waterlogged boy.
But (Leon) had smiled for this speech.
He couldn't describe his feeling after hearing the words of the teacher in front of him.
It was like finding an oasis in a desert of unwanted success. Her promise of his horrible loss was the sweetest music he'd heard all day.
And her words were like a close friend to the point that he wished to thank her.
He felt a surge of genuine, warm gratitude towards this woman who was guaranteeing his downfall.
But before he could do that, his consciousness disappeared.
The violet light from the circle flared, enveloping him completely with a sound like a distant sigh.
And he entered the world of the final test for him.
The last barrier between him and the academy he desperately did not want to enter.
The test in which he would fail.
He was sure of it.
──────────────────────
Thank you for reading another chapter of (Leon)'s spectacular struggle against the universe's cruel favoritism! Your support is the only thing keeping him from spontaneously combusting from frustration.
❤️ (From the Author, who is now fully invested in this train wreck)
──────────────────────