Hundreds of teenagers stood in a wide semicircle, their gazes fixed on the sparring platform where Professor Loring waited. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes were sharp, quietly assessing the young man before him.
Blane Ingram stood lazily as he cracked his neck, rolled his shoulders, then slowly raised a hand.
The room stilled. Etheric pressure built around him. Wind gathered at his fingertips in a spiraling coil. For a moment, it looked like he was building up to something big.
The audience leaned in.
And then—
Fwoosh.
A gentle breeze fluttered across the hall, barely strong enough to rustle hair. It swept past Professor Loring like a passing draft from a cracked window.
The magic faded.
Blane dropped his hand… and turned around.
Without a word, he walked off the platform and headed for the exit with hands in his pockets, posture relaxed as if he'd just finished stretching before a nap.
Silence.
"...What?"
"Did… did he just air out the room?"
Even Professor Loring tilted his head slightly, a frown tugging at his lips. "Was that—?"
Before he could finish, Blane called over his shoulder:
"Mission accomplished. No one fainted from heatstroke."
Another beat of silence.
Then a wave of scattered laughter.
"Is he serious?"
"Guess we're all witnesses to the most energy-efficient duel in academy history."
Even Alaric couldn't help himself. His lips curled into a grin, arms crossed as he watched Blane exit like nothing happened.
"Next up, Luther Kingsley!"
The crowd's attention instantly shifted. Conversations died mid-sentence. Curiosity rippled through the room like a current. All eyes turned toward Alaric as he stepped forward, the name Kingsley carrying weight and expectation clung to it like a second skin.
Alaric sighed inwardly. 'Finally, Let's get this over with quickly.'
He strode forward, his plan simple: cast the spell, make it decent, don't cause trauma, and leave.
strode toward the center where Professor Loring stood, a towering figure who looked like someone had carved a mountain into human shape. The man exuded strength and quiet menace, but Alaric barely spared it a thought.
He just lazily brought an arm up and was about ready to cast his spell, doing the absolute bare minimum to get out of this place.
But then he looked up, right into Professor Loring's face.
The man waited in silence with a certain look in his eyes that irked Alaric uncontrollably. It was calm, patient and mildly amused. Like he already knew how this would go. Like he was waiting to be underwhelmed.
And the smirk? Oh, the smirk sealed it.
Alaric's eye twitched. 'Is this motherfucker looking down on me?'
Normally, he'd let it slide. In fact, he preferred it when people dismissed him, it made things easier. Low expectations were comfortable. Cozy, even. But that look… it scratched at something in the back of his mind. An unsavoury memory of a certain someone.
That same expression had once belonged to a different person. Taller, holier, with blazing wings that covered the sky.
That damned angel.
Alaric's mood shifted. Just like that, the lazy demonstration was out the window.
'Alright, then. Let's put on a show.'
He turned his focus inward—to the core nestled deep in his navel.
Within this core, the Ether moved in an ever-shifting flow. Sometimes it felt like water, calm and smooth. Other times, it resembled an elusive fog or swift wind, intangible yet potent. This was his Etheric reservoir, the source of all his power. At the center of it all, nestled like a sleeping beast, was his spell, passed down through the Kingsley bloodline.
The Shadow Bolt.
Alaric had only assimilated it a few days ago, shortly after they arrived in the city, but it already felt like a seamless extension of his will.
His mind flicked—just briefly—to Nether Spike. That monstrous, dreadful spell had erupted from him in the forest days ago, tearing through the raiders like a plague. Anyone it touched had simply vanished, body and soul, reduced to curling wisps of smoke.
It was a higher-tier evolution of Shadow Bolt. A six tier spell.
What he'd unleashed that day wasn't even a tenth of its true power. If he'd been stronger… the entire battlefield might've been erased in a single pulse.
'Too bad that was a one time use trump card, it's gone now…'
Back in the present, he breathed deeply and channeled Ether into the Shadow Bolt.
The markings lit up, responding like a living script, pulsing with sinister rhythm.
The hall dimmed.
Shadows bled from the corners, stretching across the floor like spilled ink. The lights above flickered as if shrinking from something cold and ancient.
A thin stream of black lightning formed in Alaric's hand, crackling with a hiss. He raised his palm and let it fly.
It cut through the air like a shriek.
Professor Rufus Loring stood tall and unreadable. He made a motion to swat it aside casually—until he saw Alaric smiling.
Instead of hitting its mark, the bolt arced upward. Higher. Higher. It vanished into the air.
Confusion spread like wildfire.
He missed?
The next moment, it came spiraling down and headed straight for Alaric.
"What the hell is he doing?!"
Gasps erupted across the hall. Even the instructors straightened.
But Alaric didn't flinch. Instead, he lifted his gaze, still wearing that slight smirk, and willed.
The darkness surrounding him suddenly stirred.
It slithered upward like a living thing, converging at the space between Alaric and the descending bolt. The black mist shifted, twisted, danced, and then, in a blink—
CRACK!
Three bolts of black lightning erupted from the haze, not toward Alaric, but toward Loring.
"Huh?!"
The sound echoed from every corner of the room. No one understood what they were seeing.
But it wasn't over.
Two of the bolts mid-air suddenly splintered, stretching into jagged webs of lightning. They crackled and snapped, shooting out at impossible angles, racing toward the professor like spider limbs with purpose.
That was the last warning before—
BOOM.
A muffled detonation rang out. Not loud, but deep, like something breaking just beneath the surface of the world.
A few heartbeats passed. Dust curled through the air like ghostly veils, then slowly settled… revealing Rufus Loring, with both his arms raised.
"What the…?" someone muttered from the crowd, breaking the silence.
""I think… he actually blocked that…"
"That's impossible. Loring doesn't block."
The onlookers were stunned.
Alaric, standing casually with his hands at his sides, allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction.
'Hehe, what an excellent spell.'
Unbeknownst to the students, the two instructors observing from the sidelines exchanged quiet words.
From the instructor's side, one of them muttered, "That wasn't just a spell… that was control. He layered three stages of manipulation into a single cast. Advanced sequencing, misdirection, and a power split."
The other chuckled
"I've a feeling this one would bring surprises to our door, wouldn't you say?"
The truth was, Shadow Bolt had two distinct effects. The first cloaked the area around him in darkness, not just for drama, but to create an environment where the bolt could be camouflaged and maneuvered with ease. The second effect, more subtle, was the ability to reabsorb that darkness and condense it back into the spell, amplifying its power.
Most would dismiss it as theatrics. But Alaric had used the spell's second form deliberately, recycling the surrounding shadows into the bolt and launching an unexpected triple strike at the professor.
It wasn't just an attack. It was an amplification engine wrapped in a smokescreen.
A spell with two functions: attack and enhance, plus a layer of visual misdirection to conceal his true intent. Simple on the surface. Dangerous in the right hands.
Though it would never have seriously injured Rufus, it had surprised him.
And that's what he was counting on.
Alaric allowed himself a brief flicker of satisfaction. He had drawn every inch of utility from the spell. And judging by the stares and murmurs around him, they were either impressed… or simply lost.
Either way, not his problem.
Rufus met his gaze. His face remained unreadable, but something had shifted in his eyes.
A flicker of acknowledgment.
Then, a short nod. Nothing more.
"Heh. Well, that's a first. Next," Rufus said, his voice steady, measured, as if he wasn't fazed.
He turned and walked toward the exit, a faint smile tugging at his lips. The ordeal was finally over.
A/N: And that wraps up the entrance exams! Hope you're enjoying the ride so far, things are only going to get messier from here on out. Buckle up >.<