The next trial tested candidates who possessed an offensive weapon. Their objective: to strike a training dummy made of an alloy so dense that even steel barely left a scratch.
Guile, arms crossed and with a piercing gaze, addressed the group:
"Who wants to go?"
The atmosphere suddenly grew heavier.
Only two tests remained, and most candidates had yet to shine. Many clenched their fists, others looked away. The pressure was suffocating.
But then…
A step echoed in the arena.
Altaïr stepped forward, her gaze cold, impassive.
No fear. No hesitation.
Only that silent, almost arrogant confidence.
She stood in front of the dummy. In her hands, a scepter black as obsidian.
She slowly closed her eyes…
…and channeled her mana.
Magic circles formed beneath her feet.
FWOOOOOOOOM!
A gigantic fireball burst from her scepter, roaring like an angry sun.
FSSHHHHHHHH! SHWAAAAAAAAAAHH!
BOOOOMMM!
The impact shook the arena. The dummy wobbled.
Then… the score appeared:
[Score: 550%]
A stunned silence followed the explosion.
All the other candidates felt an even heavier pressure.
Damons, eyes shining, whispered:
"Incredible… it's the first time I've seen magic… She's really too strong."
Next to him, Maximilien shrugged.
"That's normal. When you come from a great family, power comes with it."
But Damons gave a slight, mysterious smile.
"That… I'm not so sure about that."
Maximilien looked at him, intrigued.
Another step echoed in the arena.
Lucas, his reinforced gauntlets on his hands, stepped forward arrogantly. He cast a disdainful look at Altaïr, who calmly returned to her place.
"Tch. Don't be proud of such a low score, weakling."
But Altaïr didn't respond. She didn't even glance at him. For her, Lucas simply didn't exist.
Annoyed but excited, Lucas positioned himself in front of the dummy.
He channeled his mana, focusing entirely on his right gauntlet.
SSHHHHHHHHH
A red aura glowed around his arm. Then, he struck a vertical blow charged with rage.
BOOOOOOM! BAMMM! CRACCC!
The protective glass cracked from the impact.
The score appeared:
[Score: 548%]
Lucas grimaced.
"Tsh. I'll have to train more."
The next round concerned those equipped with defensive artifacts.
Guile raised his hand, his piercing gaze sweeping the candidates. His voice echoed throughout the arena:
"Those equipped with a defensive artifact must withstand one of my attacks. Get ready."
The Prince entered once again, his undeniable presence attracting all eyes. With his giant shield, he moved with an almost royal grace, daring anyone to doubt his charisma.
Lindel Clark, silently nicknamed by others: the prince.
The female candidates in the stands giggled.
"He's handsome, even with an old shield…"
"I'm ready to fail if I can just see him…"
"Even his silence is charming!"
Lindel, frowning, muttered in a low voice:
"Tch… Can't these idiots shut up?"
One candidate, shocked, exclaimed:
"Oh my god, he spoke!"
"Did you hear his voice?!"
"No… but it must be perfect!"
Guile rolled his eyes.
"Hurry up."
Lindel nodded, placed his shield in front of him.
"Ready?"
"Yes."
Guile struck without any restraint.
BOOOOOM!
The impact made the arena vibrate. Lindel stepped back, but only 7 meters.
An exceptional performance…
Guile widened his eyes.
"You don't even come from a great family… But with that potential, you could match them. Maybe even surpass them. What's your name?"
"Lindel Clark."
Guile nodded seriously.
"I'll remember it. You'll become a great tanker."
The girls in the stands screamed:
"YEEEES! Even his name is magnificent!!"
"Lindel, I'll never forget your name!"
Lindel turned to them, icy eyes.
"Shut up, you bitches."
A deathly silence fell in the arena.
Then he added:
"Finally, silence."
And in all the girls' heads:
"He's… so cool…"
Another tank stepped forward, almost invisible. Small round shield, timid gait. No one paid attention to him. Except Damons and Maximilien, who watched him closely.
Guile sighed.
"I hope you'll be as impressive as the previous one."
The boy took a defensive stance, visibly stressed. Many openings. No posture.
Guile advanced. Slowly. Then pointed a finger.
Flick.
The impact was humiliating. The boy was thrown over 50 meters, crashing against the back wall. But he didn't drop his shield, his gaze fixed straight ahead, defying the world, as if to say he could still hold on, no matter the strength of the coming assault.
Guile didn't even bother to look at him.
"Next."
The candidates passed one after another, nothing exceptional to report… until an archer stood out with an incredible score, boosted by lightning-fast shooting speed.
Guile, arms crossed, watched the trial from the evaluation platform, his gaze scrutinizing every detail.
He sighed slightly, then said wearily:
"Next."
Damons stepped forward calmly.
"I'm going."
Maximilien smiled:
"I'll go after you."
"Okay."
With a confident step, Damons entered the arena and positioned himself in front of the training dummy.