The grand hall had grown oppressively tense. Hours had passed, and the examination continued relentlessly.
Failures mounted.
"Fail."
"Fail."
"Fail."
A brutal, unrelenting series of rejections.
Students held their breath, their hopes flickering like dying embers. Out of 498 examinees, only nine had passed. The rest sat in silence, the weight of their fate pressing upon them like an unseen force.
Now, with anticipation hanging thick in the air, a name was called.
"Prince Areion de Lorium."
Murmurs erupted instantly.
Everyone knew the name.
As Areion rose from his seat, every pair of eyes turned toward him. Unlike others who approached the pedestal with hesitation, Areion moved with measured steps, unshaken by the scrutiny.
Romona stayed seated.
At the front of the hall, the instructors observed him keenly. Lady Belladonna, in particular, sat with her hands folded beneath her chin, her silver-blue eyes gleaming with curiosity.
Upon reaching the centre, Areion placed a hand over his heart and bowed with perfect grace.
A deep silence followed.
Then, Lady Belladonna leaned forward, her gaze sharp.
Unlike the other examinees, who had been questioned by different instructors, she took full command of Areion's questioning.
Her voice was smooth yet laced with an unmistakable edge of challenge.
"What is magic to you?"
Areion raised his head, his silver eyes calm and unwavering.
"Magic is the essence of life itself. It is neither bound by our desires nor by our limitations. It exists beyond us, yet within us."
A small, approving smile flickered on one of the instructor's lips, but Lady Belladonna remained unreadable.
She pressed on.
"What is the difference between power and wisdom?"
Areion's smile didn't waver.
"Power is the ability to act. Wisdom is knowing when not to."
A flicker of amusement danced in Lady Belladonna's eyes, but she continued without pause.
"Then tell me, Prince Areion, if power is meant to act, and wisdom is restraint, which does a ruler require?"
A high-level question itself, students not knowing the answer while instructors knew there is no perfect answer to it. As every ruler rules on their own ideologies.
His answer came without hesitation.
"Both. For absolute wisdom without power is nothing but empty knowledge, and absolute power without wisdom is destruction, which consumes everything in its path."
The instructors shifted slightly in their seats. Some glanced at one another, the corners of their mouths twitching in concealed satisfaction.
Lady Belladonna finally let a small, almost imperceptible smirk cross her lips.
She leaned back, her fingers interlocking. "Proceed to the crystal."
Areion stepped forward, extending his hands over the shimmering orb.
The moment his palms met the surface, a blinding radiance erupted from the crystal.
The hall was bathed in pure, brilliant light. Unlike the other students, whose affinities manifested in blended hues, Areion's was absolute. Singular.
Only one affinity.
Pure Light.
The arcane symbols that emerged above him pulsed with an ethereal glow, forming intricate patterns that none had seen before.
Lady Belladonna's expression finally broke. For the first time since the examinations began, she looked genuinely astonished.
A breathless silence filled the hall before she spoke aloud, her voice laced with intrigue.
"Affinity: Pure Light. No secondary affinity."
Gasps echoed throughout the room.
A rare sight indeed. Most wielders of light magic carried a secondary affinity—wind, fire, or even light/dark magic. But Areion's was absolute and undiluted.
It was also noted that his uniform did not change at all. It remained its original white and black.
The instructors whispered amongst themselves. Some looked deep in thought, while others exchanged knowing glances.
Still, one trial remained.
The true test.
"Prince Areion, demonstrate your magic."
Areion took a breath and closed his eyes.
The moment he spread his fingers, sigils—ancient and intricate—began forming on the ground beneath him.
Unlike the standard human runes commonly seen at the academy, these were Elven sigils—symbols of an older, purer form of magic.
As they ignited, the markings glowed with a radiant white light, forming an elaborate pattern beneath his feet.
Slowly, the sigils rose, forming a floating array of luminous runes.
Then—Areion began to rise.
His body lifted gracefully, effortlessly, as if the world itself had been rewritten to deny him gravity even tho he don't possess gravity magic.
The brightness of the sigils intensified, illuminating the entire hall in a warm, celestial glow.
A hush fell over the room.
No fire. No thunderous explosion. No display of destructive force.
And yet… the sheer mastery of the spell, the elegance, the control—it was undeniable.
Romona feels proud with a sparkle in her eye, the silence of the hall disturbed by her clapping. Instructors give her a glare; she immediately stops clapping in embarrassment. Areion looks behind at her with a mocking smirk before focusing on instructors.
Areion slowly descended, his feet touching the ground once more as the light faded.
For a long moment, there was nothing but silence.
Then, Lady Belladonna, still watching him intently, exhaled softly before turning toward the young male instructor who had been announcing the results.
The man cleared his throat, still shaken from what he had just witnessed.
His voice, clear and steady, cut through the air.
"Prince Areion de Lorium"
A pause.
"Pass."
A single word.
Most obvious outcome anyone has ever seen.
As the echoes of Areion's success faded, the instructors moved on to the next name.
The young male instructor glanced at the parchment before reading aloud in a firm voice.
"Romona humer."
A moment of silence followed.
Romona, still seated beside Areion, blinked.
"…Huh?"