Kael sat in silence, still perched on the wooden chair. The words rang in his ears like a bad joke.
Congratulations, you're in.
That was it? No trials, no tests, not even a background check? The office was suffocatingly quiet. Sunlight spilled across towers of paperwork, dust motes drifting lazily as if mocking him. The man at the desk had already gone back to scribbling, like Kael's "recruitment" was just another grocery receipt.
Kael's eyebrow twitched. He finally blurted, "Wait… so that's really it? I'm in."
"Yes." The man didn't even look up.
Kael leaned forward, incredulous. "No exam? No sparring match? Not even a what? Wave your hands and glow demonstration? Nothing?"
This time, the man paused, setting his quill down. His dull blue eyes rose, heavy but calm.
"There are few of us left. We'll take anyone who passes through that door with even a trace of mana. No one is here to test you. Not like the other branches."
Kael blinked. "…Okay, but how many are we talking here? Ten? Twenty? Fifty?" He knew most Bureau branches had at least a hundred mages. Even a failing one should have a couple dozen.
The man's voice was flat, almost bitter.
"Six of us. Including you seven. That's why the Bureau calls us the Outcasts. We're the branch everyone pretends doesn't exist."
Kael's jaw nearly hit the desk. He glanced at the endless piles of paper. Suddenly, it all made sense. He scratched the back of his head, an awkward laugh escaping.
And here I thought I was so great they hired me instantly. So much for being a genius recruit. Turns out they're just desperate. Fantastic. Guess I really did stumble into the world's worst job lottery.
The man studied him for a moment. "Do you accept working here, knowing our condition?"
Kael gave a lopsided grin. "Like I've got better options? Sure."
The man blinked, as if surprised, then allowed the faintest trace of a smile. He slid a sheet of paper across the desk.
"This is your contract. Read carefully. Sign at the bottom."
Kael skimmed the lines. The quill felt heavy in his hand, the kind of weight that meant no turning back. As he dipped it in ink, his thoughts flickered to the trials, to the one who had taught him how to write, to the boots pressed into his hands on a freezing night. Gratitude sparked faintly in his chest. With deliberate strokes, he signed his name.
The man took the paper back, set it aside, and immediately slid another slip forward.
"There's a report. Since you want a test, here it is. Complete this, and you'll be officially recognized as one us the Outcasts."
Kael picked it up, throat suddenly dry. His grip tightened on the edges.
So this is the real test. Wonderful. Just what I needed my first day, and they're already trying to get me killed.
Kael thought as he looked at the reports content