Huh?! I didn't expect it to throw me up this high!
Damn it....
He used the wind to balance himself.
Alger could almost see the roof of the University,
He caressed the blade of his katana with one of his hands, infusing it with Tempest.
Just before he hit the ground, Alger slashed downward—A sharp burst of wind shot from his katana, the recoil slowing his fall at the last second.
When he landed, Waye was already standing before him. Unmoving. He uttered a single word:
"Come."
Huh?! What do you mean, come?! Damn you, Waye Smith...
Gritting his teeth, Alger stepped forward. His katana shimmered faintly as he infused it with Tempest. Once close enough, he gathered wind around his legs and launched himself forward in a burst.
His blade came for Waye's neck—fast, precise—But it was blocked. Effortlessly.
Waye hadn't even flinched. His saber stood firm, like stone. Unshaken.
Alger tried to copy Waye, moving away from him and trying to get behind.
But it was pointless....
Damn it! How can this guy predict everything?
Alger was panting; he was tired, sweat rolled down his face. Not a single one of his attacks managed to land.
Damn it....
That's it.... I'm going all out.
"Alger... I'm afraid we must stop here, before one of us dies..."
Huh?! Now you want to stop!
Damn it.... but he is right. If he goes on the offense again, I will die...
"...Yes," Alger said, panting.
He slowly sheathed his katana, his breathing uneven, and looked up—Waye was already walking away.
"I'm taking a break," Waye called out, his voice was calm. "I'll fight the rest of you in fifteen minutes."
He made his way toward the stage, unfazed.
Alger turned around. Dozens of eyes were locked on him. Silent. Watching. All around him. He scanned the crowd for Ivy and Dawn… but couldn't find them.
Shit...
***
A man with short brown hair sat casually on the grass, leaning against the stage for support. He took a long sip from his water bottle, watching the aftermath of the match unfold.
This was Darian Clayborn—the Terra Conjuror.
Noticing Waye approaching, Darian set the bottle aside and spoke, his tone dry:
"I saw your fight Waye. The boy is a Conjuror, right? That too at such a young age, he almost beat the record for becoming the youngest Conjuror... Leaving that apart, it's pretty unfortunate, huh?"
Waye glanced at him, then answered without breaking stride.
"Yeah. He doesn't have much longer to live… word travels fast."
Darian let out a short laugh, shaking his head.
"You say that, but aren't you the one who is going to spread the word?" He laughed a little. "Also... I don't get why you offered a draw. You could've won easily—"
But before he could finish, Waye's saber flew past his face in a sudden blur—The blade struck the wooden stage behind him with a crack, only centimeters from his cheek.
Darian froze.
Waye didn't even look back.
"Don't be foolish....."
He walked on. And as he passed, the embedded saber began to crumble—Bit by bit, it broke apart into countless fragments, each one falling like dust to the earth.
***
Rose was lying on the ground, the charred grass around her crumbled slowly as the wind blew. A large, blazing red machete was a few centimeters away from her neck.
"I must admit, girl. You're one of the strongest Awakened I have faced. Exceptional performance.... the only reason I won was because I was a Conjuror and you weren't."
'He's showing me pity.... I need to get stronger.....' the girl thought to herself while gritting her teeth.
Ronan smiled after seeing the girl's frustration....
"It's a real shame nobody was around to see your fight."
"Does it matter?" the girl said while slowly standing up, dusting the charcoal that was all over her coat.
Ronan laughed a little,
"You're right, it doesn't matter if you're getting the highest marks... and I'm sure you will."
'Anything lower than that would be a disgrace to someone who is going to become the supreme king....'
***
"Just who the hell is that guy?!"
"He is a Conjuror right?! I saw it!"
"No, what are you talking about? It all happened so fast! I couldn't even see anything"
"Exactly! It all happened so fast, he has to be a Conjurer..."
"No... he is probably just a talented Awakened. It's impossible for someone his age to reach Conjuror."
"He has to be someone from the Royal family...."
"Yeah! Look at his hair! I have never seen someone with that color of hair."
The crowd was too overwhelming for the tired Alger.
Damn you Waye....
Alger used his Conjuror abilities to vanish...
But in reality, he just jumped really high at an angle, similar to something Waye did at the start of the exam...
***
It had been half an hour since Alger's exam ended.
He sat alone near the iron fence that lined the edge of the University grounds. He hadn't gone looking for Ivy or Dawn—he didn't even know how their exams had gone.
For now, all he could do was sit there, replaying the fight in his mind… thinking about how things could've gone differently.
Curse you, Waye. I swear, I'm going to kill you… just you wait.
People passed by, some slowing their steps to glance at him. He could still hear the rumors circulating, the whispers that never stopped.
How long are they going to take to announce the results?
He was confident he'd passed. But Ivy, Dawn... and that girl—he had no idea what had happened to them.
Then, finally, a figure stepped onto the stage in the distance. Alger squinted, just barely making out the silhouette from where he sat.
Finally.
Alger slowly stood up and began walking toward the stage, ignoring the glances that followed him.
Once he got close enough, he recognized the figure standing at the center—it was none other than Terra Conjuror Darian Clayborne.
Darian stood silently, his eyes skimmed a page in his hand as he waited for the crowd to settle.
Then, with a slow breath, he folded the paper, slipped it into his right pocket, and began to speak.
"Today marks the final day of the entrance examination for the year 976. Thousands of potential mages have stood before us, and now, a chosen few have been selected to rise even higher..."He paused.
"This exam was considerably more difficult than those of previous years. But that also means those who passed are truly exceptional. Out of the 220 candidates for today... only 9 have passed."
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"Wh-What?!"
"Only 9?! That's not even 5 percent..."