The Colosseum of the Royal Capital was a marvel of architectural intimidation. Stone walls rose hundreds of feet into the air, creating a bowl of shadows and sunlight where thousands of aspiring mages gathered like ants in a jar. The air was thick with the scent of ozone—the byproduct of so many grimoires clashing in close proximity—and the nervous sweat of teenagers who knew their futures would be decided in the next few hours.
Lencar stood near the center of the arena, his arms crossed, his posture relaxed but alert. He had deactivated his [Void Pulse] concealment for now. To be invisible in a crowd was suspicious; to be present but unremarkable was the true art of camouflage. He allowed his mana to hum at a steady, respectable frequency—High Stage Six. Enough to say "I belong here," but not enough to scream "I am a threat."
He looked up toward the VIP balcony, a stone platform draped in the banners of the nine squads.
"Count," Lencar whispered.
One. Two. Three...
There were eight figures standing in the shadows of the overhang.
"Nine Squads. Eight Captains," Lencar noted. "The outlier is missing."
He knew exactly who it was. The "Lord of Destruction." The man whose mana didn't just flow; it dominated.
Suddenly, a commotion erupted near the entrance tunnel. Asta, who had been vibrating with excitement and trying to shake off the anti-magic birds, was running full tilt while looking backward at Yuno.
"I'm gonna be the Wizard King, Yuno! Just you wa—OOF!"
Asta slammed headfirst into a wall of muscle. Or rather, a man who stood like a wall.
Lencar watched, his analytical mind slowing the scene down. The man was massive, wearing a white tank top that strained against a chest the size of a barrel, and draped in the black mantle of the Bull. He held a lit cigarette in his mouth, the ember glowing like a warning light.
Yami Sukehiro. Captain of the Black Bulls.
"Hey, kid," Yami grunted, looking down at Asta with eyes that promised violence. "You got a death wish or something?"
Asta scrambled back, his face pale. "I-I'm sorry! I didn't look where I was going!"
Yami didn't move. He just let his aura leak out. It wasn't the bright, elemental mana of the other nobles. It was heavy, dark, and oppressive. It felt like gravity had just increased by tenfold in a three-meter radius.
"You bumped into me," Yami said, raising a hand that looked big enough to crush a melon. "That's ten seconds off your life. Nine... eight..."
"WHY IS THERE A COUNTDOWN?!" Asta screamed, terrified.
"Because that's how long you have before I squash you," Yami replied deadpan, gripping Asta's head.
Lencar observed from ten meters away. Subject: Yami Sukehiro. Magic Attribute: Dark. Threat Level: Catastrophic.
He could feel the "Ki" Yami radiated. It was sharp, aware, and completely overwhelming. Lencar's [Void Echo] was active on his soul to hide the crystals, but he knew that if he drew Yami's attention now, the man might sense the "hollow" nature of his spirit.
"Captain Yami!" a nervous voice called out. Finral Roulacase, the spatial mage of the Black Bulls, rushed forward. "Please don't kill the examinees before the exam starts! We're already late!"
Yami released Asta, who fell to the ground gasping. "Tch. Saved by the bell, shrimp. Try not to die in the first round."
Yami walked past them, his heavy boots thudding against the stone. As he passed Lencar, the Captain paused for a fraction of a second. He didn't look at Lencar, but he blew a cloud of smoke that drifted directly into Lencar's face.
He sensed something, Lencar realized, his heart rate remaining forcibly steady. He sensed a discrepancy. But he doesn't care enough to investigate. Yet.
Yami leaped—actually leaped—fifty feet into the air, landing on the balcony with a crash that cracked the stone railing.
"And now," a voice boomed across the arena, smooth and charismatic. "Let the examination begin."
The sky above the arena suddenly bloomed with light. Roots—massive, twisting roots of World Tree Magic—descended from the clouds, forming a grand staircase. Walking down it was a man in a golden helmet, his face obscured by a complex mask.
William Vangeance. Captain of the Golden Dawn. The closest man to the title of Wizard King.
Lencar's eyes narrowed. This was the target. Or rather, the vessel of the target.
Inside that man was two souls. One was William, the cursed child of a noble house. The other was Patolli, the leader of the elves, the man masquerading as Licht, the leader of the Eye of the Midnight Sun.
Observation: Lencar's upgraded soul perception, fueled by the four crystals, could see it. A faint, flickering dissonance in Vangeance's aura. A second heartbeat. A shadow within the gold.
"That man is the architect of the coming war," Lencar thought. "He is being fooled by the Devil Zagred, thinking he is saving his people, when he is actually preparing the world for hell."
As Vangeance took his seat, the other Captains were revealed in full light.
Fuegoleon Vermillion (Crimson Lion Kings): A man who radiated heat and righteous authority. His mana was a roaring furnace. Honorable, but rigid.
Nozel Silva (Silver Eagles): With his distinct silver braid and cold eyes, he looked at the crowd as if they were insects. Mercury Magic. High versatility, high arrogance.
Charlotte Roselei (Blue Rose Knights): Beautiful and icy, her Briar Magic coiled around her like a protective cage. Prone to losing control when Yami is involved, but tactically brilliant.
Jack the Ripper (Green Prayer Mantises): A lanky, hunched figure with blades of mana playing on his fingers. He was cackling quietly. Severing Magic. He can cut through anything given time. A chaotic variable.
Dorothy Unsworth (Coral Peacocks): She was asleep. Literally asleep, bubbling a snot bubble. Dream Magic. The most dangerous mage here if she wakes up. Her Dream World is a reality warper.
Rill Boismortier (Azure Deer): The youngest Captain. He looked bored, painting invisible pictures in the air. Picture Magic. Limitless potential, zero discipline.
Gueldre Poizot (Purple Orcas): A fat, wealthy-looking man who was checking a ledger. Permeation Magic. The traitor. The man who sells secrets to the Diamond Kingdom.
And finally, Yami Sukehiro, who was already slouching in his chair, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else.
"Candidates!" Vangeance's voice projected without a microphone, powered by vast reserves of mana. "You have gathered here to prove your worth. Magic is the power to protect. It is the power to build. Today, show us your resolve."
The crowd erupted in cheers. Asta was shaking with adrenaline. Yuno was stoic.
Lencar stood silently. He wasn't here for resolve. He was here for the permit.
The Exam Proctor, a tower master with a booming voice, stepped onto the field. "The first test is the foundation of all magecraft. If you cannot control your mana, you cannot be a Knight."
He waved his hand, and hundreds of broomsticks floated out of the ground, hovering in front of each candidate.
"Test One: Broom Flight."
Lencar looked at the broom. It was old wood, likely imbued with a basic levitation rune that required the user to input their own mana to function.
Objective: Don't fail. But don't excel.
"Phase Five, Step One," Lencar whispered. "Operation: Strategic Mediocrity."