Vel found himself among the students with clouded readings as they moved away from the main courtyard. Tomas walked beside him, shoulders still hunched from his earlier humiliation.
Six of us total, Vel realized as they approached the training area. Not exactly a large group.
Hundreds of students scattered across the training field. The elite candidates claimed the center spots while faculty clustered around them.
Vel and the others found themselves directed toward the field's edge—still part of the same assessment area, but relegated to the margins where older practice dummies and basic equipment waited. They remained visible to everyone, their struggles on full display, but clearly marked as secondary priorities.
A woman approached their group with measured steps. Her face bore a faint scar that ran from her left temple to her jaw, and her eyes held the sharp attentiveness of someone who missed nothing. Unlike some of the other examiners, she didn't regard them with pity or dismissal.
"I am Instructor Lyvenna," she said, her voice quiet yet carrying clearly to all of them. "I'll be overseeing your assessments."
She distributed protective charms to each student, small medallions inscribed with runes. "Wear these at all times during combat assessment. They'll activate automatically if your life is endangered."
As the other students murmured among themselves, Lyvenna surveyed the group with calculating eyes.
"Unstable attunement presents specific technical challenges," she continued. "Your elements compete for dominance rather than working in harmony. This creates inconsistent results that many instructors interpret as lack of talent."
Vel raised an eyebrow, surprised by her detailed understanding.
"In this Academy, you'll work twice as hard for half the recognition." Her voice carried no sympathy, just cold fact. "Sometimes you get nothing at all."
Her tone remained matter-of-fact, not unkind but not sugarcoated either. Yet Vel sensed an underlying note of encouragement rather than discouragement—as if she wasn't warning them away, but preparing them for a path she knew was possible.
Vel watched as the elite students took their positions in the central training zones. Their movements were confident, almost arrogant, as they prepared to demonstrate their abilities. A student with pure fire affinity stepped forward, summoning a perfect sphere of flame that danced between his palms before transforming into a fiery serpent that coiled through the air. Applause rippled through the audience.
Another student with water affinity created intricate ice sculptures with mere gestures, the crystalline formations catching light and scattering it in prismatic patterns. The displays grew increasingly elaborate as each student sought to outshine the last.
Meanwhile, Vel and his group were close enough that their performance—or lack thereof—would be visible to onlookers. He noticed students and even some faculty drifting toward their area, expressions ranging from curious to openly derisive.
"Look at the cloudy ones," someone whispered loudly enough to be heard. "This should be entertaining."
The atmosphere shifted from educational to theatrical as a perimeter of spectators formed around their training zone. Vel felt the weight of their stares, the prejudgment in their eyes.
"What a waste of Academy resources." The noble girl shook her head. "They'd serve better in non-combat support—if they're lucky."
Their first assessment pairings were announced. Tomas was matched against a stocky youth who immediately dropped into a fighter's stance. The guy looked older, carried himself like he'd done this before—probably a second attempt at the entrance exam. Tomas, by contrast, stood with his weight on his back foot, hands positioned for casting rather than striking—clearly preferring to keep combat at range.
His opponent charged forward, closing the distance quickly. Tomas backpedaled, fingers tracing the beginning forms of a spell circle while muttering an incantation. Vel recognized the pattern—a basic fireball, one of the simplest offensive spells.
For a moment, the spell formed properly, a small orb of flame materializing above Tomas's palm. His face lit with concentration and hope—then faltered as the fireball's edges began to waver, its core pulsing irregularly. The spell deformed as it left his hand, deteriorating mid-flight into a shower of harmless sparks that scattered at his opponent's feet like dying fireworks.
Laughter erupted from the gathering crowd. Several combat instructors shook their heads, making quick notes on their paper with expressions of dismissal.
Tomas's shoulders slumped, his face flushing with embarrassment. His opponent seized the opportunity, lunging forward and landing a clean hit with a simple ice spell. The spell effect flashed by the protective charm.
"Just stick to support roles where you belong!" someone shouted from the crowd.
More jeers followed: "They should just make them healers' assistants and be done with it!"
"How do you expect to fight when you can't even control basic magic?"
Tomas walked back to the standby group, his gaze fixed on the ground. His lips were pressed into a thin line, shoulders hunched forward as if trying to make himself smaller against the weight of humiliation.
Instructor Lyvenna gave him an understanding look, her eyes reflecting sympathy without pity. She made a few notes on her paper, her pen moving with quick precision.
"Next pairing: Velarian Novalance and Rohen Delmar," she called out. "Take your positions."
At the same time, she announced another match: "Mira Telsin and Enya Lorrath, adjacent circle."
Vel contemplated his approach as he stepped forward. Should he use magic and risk drawing attention with his unusual affinity? Or rely on swordplay, which might be safer but less impressive?
The crowd's jeering still hung in the air. While part of him burned to prove these pure-affinity students wrong, a more pragmatic voice cautioned restraint. Drawing too much attention could complicate his true goals. Better to simply pass the test and move forward—the journey ahead mattered more than petty victories now.
After a moment's consideration, Vel walked to the equipment rack and selected a practice sword. He hefted it, feeling its balance before returning to his position and assuming a standard combat stance.
A murmur rippled through the onlookers. Even Instructor Lyvenna raised an eyebrow, making a note on her clipboard.
Vel glanced to his side where the two girls had already begun circling each other, each with fingers positioned for spellcasting. Looking back at his opponent, a boy with curly chestnut hair named Rohen, Vel noticed he too was preparing to cast rather than fight physically.
A thought struck Vel—was it coincidence that all the unstable affinity students were attempting to cast spells rather than engage in physical combat? Even the instructor seemed surprised by Vel's choice of weapon, watching him with renewed interest.
Rohen's fingers had already begun tracing the beginnings of a spell circle, his lips moving in preparation for an incantation.
Vel observed his opponent's spell preparation and a realization struck him. It seemed counterintuitive—if these students with unstable attunement knew their spells risked malfunction, why focus on magic instead of physical combat?
Then a deeper understanding dawned. This must be for their safety. Even if they knew how to fight physically, what if their sword arts or martial techniques misfired while in close proximity to an opponent? A failing sword art while engaged in melee combat would be outright suicide if the mana channels collapsed unpredictably.
I see, Vel thought. They're keeping their distance because close combat is even riskier for unstable attunement.
Which meant he could take advantage of their inexperience with melee combat.
Vel charged ahead without hesitation, his practice sword held in proper form. The sudden aggressive movement caused Rohen to flinch visibly, his concentration breaking. The water spell Rohen had been carefully preparing misfired spectacularly—the intended water stream flew upward instead of forward, spreading out like a decorative fountain that rained down harmlessly.
More laughter and mockery erupted from the onlookers. Several students pointed, their faces alight with cruel amusement.
Vel didn't waste the opening. He closed the distance and planted the practice blade firmly against Rohen's chest, scoring a clean point and effectively ending the match before his opponent could recover.
Instructor Lyvenna nodded once, making a brief note.
To their right, the pair of girls had both begun casting wind spells simultaneously. Their fingers moved through nearly identical motions, but as they released their magic, neither spell traveled toward the intended target. Instead, the opposing mana streams created an unexpected recoil effect, pushing both casters violently apart. They nearly went airborne, stumbling backward with expressions of alarm.
Instructor Lyvenna stepped in quickly, raising her hand to halt the match. Her face remained impassive as she jotted more notes on her paper, but Vel caught a brief flicker of concern in her eyes.
Vel's attention shifted as a collective gasp rose from the central training area. The crowd there had grown larger, pressing forward eagerly as two figures clashed in the elite assessment zone.
One of them was Kein.
Vel recognized him instantly—the same boy he'd trained with for years, but transformed. Kein moved with a fluid precision that seemed entirely new, his sword cutting bright arcs through the air as he pressed his opponent backward. Each strike was calculated, exploiting every minor opening with ruthless efficiency.
His opponent, another pure-affinity student, struggled to maintain his defense. The boy attempted a counterattack, but Kein sidestepped with practiced ease, almost as if he'd anticipated the move before it began.
Then Kein's blade suddenly illuminated with brilliant white energy—a light-elemental sword art Vel had never seen him use before. The blade left trails of luminescence behind each swing, forming patterns that seemed to disorient his opponent.
"Cross Flash!" Kein called out, his voice carrying across the training grounds.
Two rapid slashes created intersecting paths of light that converged on his opponent, culminating in a blinding flash that forced many onlookers to shield their eyes. When the light faded, Kein's opponent was sprawled on the ground, protective charm glowing to indicate a decisive hit.
Applause erupted around the central zone. Several instructors nodded approvingly, and Vel caught one making elaborate notes with an impressed expression.
This was not the Kein he had known in Elnor. The boy who had trained alongside him and Celia had transformed into something else entirely—more polished, more ruthless, and wielding techniques that must have required years of specialized training.
Scanning the crowd, Vel searched for any sign of Celia. He hoped she was faring well in her own assessment, perhaps even impressing the examiners with her natural agility and fighting instinct. But among the clusters of students, he couldn't spot her distinctive movements or hear her voice.
Vel turned away from the elite zone, forcing his attention back to his own group. The taste of disparity between the two assessments was bitter, but he refocused on the task at hand. Instructor Lyvenna clapped her hands sharply, drawing everyone's attention.
"First phase complete. For phase two, you'll work in pairs against animated training dummies," she announced, gesturing to several assistants who were reconfiguring the training area. Wooden figures with basic humanoid shapes were being positioned around the field.
Vel noticed how the elite zone received significantly more dummies—at least five per pair—and their constructs appeared more sophisticated, with articulated joints and what looked like rudimentary weapon attachments. In contrast, their "unstable" group would face simpler challenges with fewer opponents.
"I'll announce your pairings. When I call your names, step forward and prepare for your assessment," Instructor Lyvenna said, consulting her notes.
She began reading names, and students moved to stand with their assigned partners. Vel waited, wondering who he'd be matched with. Most of his group seemed to have questionable control over their magic at best.
"Velarian and Tomas."
Vel glanced around until he spotted Tomas—the boy whose fireball had fizzled out earlier. Tomas approached hesitantly, his shoulders hunched with what looked like embarrassment.
"Hi," Tomas mumbled, not quite meeting Vel's eyes. "Sorry in advance."
"Don't worry about it," Vel replied, seeing an opportunity. "What spells do you know?"
Tomas looked embarrassed, shuffling his feet. "Just two basic ones. That's why I'm here to learn more."
"The fireball you tried earlier," Vel prompted, "and?"
"Rock Throw. Same principle, really—just different elements."
Vel nodded thoughtfully. He'd seen enough failed spellcasting in the group to develop a theory. "Cast the fireball again, but slowly. I want to see something."
Tomas hesitated but began the casting sequence under Vel's watchful eye. His fingers traced the proper patterns, and to Vel's surprise, the magic circle that formed was flawless—perfectly structured with all the right sigils and flow channels.
But as Tomas spoke the incantation, something caught Vel's attention—the voice lacked depth. The words were technically accurate, but the delivery felt hollow, missing the resonant quality that should establish connection with the Fire Spirit.
Something's not right, Vel thought. The command structure is perfect, but it's like the message is getting lost in translation.
He watched as the spell began to form—a small orb of flame hovering above Tomas's palm—then rapidly destabilized, flickering wildly before dissipating into harmless sparks.
"Your spell formed, but couldn't maintain—like it was fighting to stay materialized," Vel observed.
Vel thought for a moment as understanding dawned on him. The spirits weren't machines—they responded to intent and connection. Drawing on his creator's knowledge, he realized what might be happening with the "unstable" students.
The unstable affinity could possibly interfere with the communication somehow, Vel thought to himself.
With no time to explore the complexities of unstable affinities, Vel opted for a more direct approach suited to the urgency of the moment. He hefted his practice sword, testing its balance with a few controlled swings.
"I'll take the front line," he stated decisively, analyzing the situation. The training dummies remained motionless for now, but would activate once the assessment began. "What I need you to do is get closer with me."
Tomas looked confused. "Closer? But I'm a caster..."
"I need you to cast the spell right next to them, like a touch spell," Vel explained, keeping his voice low enough that the other teams couldn't overhear his strategy.
"But how?" Tomas protested. "I don't have close combat ability."
"That's where I come in," Vel assured him confidently. "Anything that comes near, I'll stop them. You get the spell ready as soon as they get near."
Tomas appeared uncertain but nodded, sensing Vel's confidence. "I'll try."
"Don't 'try'—'commit'," Vel corrected him. "Intent matters with magic."
Vel gestured to the dummies, formulating a plan. If Tomas's issue stemmed from dual affinities causing interference, proximity might help. The closer the caster was to the target, the less chance for the spell to destabilize between casting and impact.
He could easily clear the zone alone—his combat experience and knowledge of magic far exceeded what was required for this basic assessment. But then what? Tomas would walk away having contributed nothing, forever marked as dead weight by every instructor and student who witnessed his failure. The boy needed to succeed on his own merit, not just to the instructors but to himself.
Even deeper than that, something nagged at his programmer instincts. "Unstable attunement" felt wrong, like a critical logical bug in the system. These students cast perfect spell circles, spoke correct incantations, yet their magic failed consistently. The pattern was too uniform to be random incompetence.
There's something else going on here. A fundamental flaw in how they're approaching the problem.
The Academy's solution was to write these students off, relegating them to support roles. But that wasn't fixing the bug—that was just working around it. And Vel had never been one to accept workarounds when the root cause remained unsolved.
If I can figure out what's really happening...
Vel sized up the training area as the dummies suddenly animated, their wooden limbs creaking to life. Four of them began approaching with slow, mechanical movements—simple opponents compared to the sophisticated constructs in the elite zone, but still a substantial challenge for students with unstable magic.
Without hesitation, Vel lunged forward, intercepting the nearest dummy before it could fully orient itself. He struck with precision, his blade catching the construct's wooden arm and pinning it against its torso.
"Now!" he called out, stabilizing his stance to hold the dummy in place.
Tomas stepped forward, hands trembling as he traced the spell pattern. The familiar fire circle materialized, glowing faintly upon completing the incantation.
At such close range, the spell erupted with surprising force. The fireball struck the dummy's midsection before it could destabilize, engulfing the wooden torso in flames that charred the surface almost instantly.
"It worked!" Tomas exclaimed, genuine surprise in his voice as he stared at his handiwork.
Vel was already pivoting, moving to engage the second dummy that was approaching from the right. "Again!" he called, sliding to position himself between Tomas and the animated figure. With a quick series of movements, he trapped the dummy's arms with his blade, creating another opening.
Tomas moved with more confidence this time, the spell forming faster in his hands. Another direct hit ignited the second dummy's shoulder joint.
Their simple strategy worked beautifully—the unstable spell had no chance to dissipate when cast at such close range. By the third dummy, they had developed a rhythm: Vel would immobilize the target, call the signal, and Tomas would deliver a concentrated blast of fire magic.
Vel noticed they'd drawn an audience. Several of their fellow "unstable" classmates had paused their own preparations to watch their technique. Some whispered among themselves, pointing at how close Tomas stood to the targets when casting.
"One more," Vel called out, positioning himself to intercept the final dummy. This one moved differently—faster, more aggressive. Its arms swung in wider arcs, forcing Vel to work harder to create an opening.
The dummy's wooden fist whistled past Vel's ear as he ducked and grabbed its wrist. It fought back, joints creaking as it tried to break free.
"Now!" he shouted, straining to hold the struggling construct.
Tomas stepped forward without hesitation. The fire circle blazed brighter than before, and when the spell struck, the entire dummy erupted in flames.
"We did it!" Tomas exclaimed, his eyes wide with excitement.
Murmurs rippled through their watching classmates. For the first time, Tomas stood straighter, shoulders back.
Vel nodded, genuinely pleased for his teammate. "Your control is getting better with each attempt. The execution became confident—like I said, intent matters."
Around them, other students began experimenting with the approach. A girl with water magic moved closer to her target while her partner held it steady. Another boy with earth affinity abandoned his position twenty paces back and instead tried casting from just a few feet away.
As they completed their assessment, Instructor Lyvenna approached, her observant gaze moving between Vel and Tomas.
"Interesting solution," she observed, arms folded across her chest. "Most casters try to increase their range, not decrease it."
Vel shrugged lightly. "The spell was forming correctly but dissipating before impact. Closing the distance eliminated that problem."
Lyvenna nodded. "You identified the spell's point of failure and created a tactical improvisation."
"Your combat experience is evident, but so is your problem-solving ability."
She turned to Tomas. "Your spell execution improved dramatically with this approach."
Vel felt a momentary tension, concerned she might question his experience, but her expression held only professional interest.
"That kind of adaptability can't be taught," she added quietly. "It comes from real challenges."
Vel acknowledged her observation with a measured nod, careful not to reveal too much.
"The Academy values complex theory," she said, watching as other students continued attempting their modified approach, "but sometimes the simplest solution is the most effective."
As the remaining students completed their assessments, Tomas approached Vel with newfound confidence evident in his posture.
"I never thought about casting that way," he admitted, studying his hands as though seeing them anew. "All my tutors kept telling me to practice from a safe distance."
"Sometimes the old ways aren't the only ways," Vel replied simply.
The simple logic seemed to resonate with Tomas, whose eyes lit up with understanding.
Before long, other students gathered around them, forming an impromptu circle of curious faces.
"My water spell still wobbled even up close," a girl with twin-tail hair said, frustrated. "But it hit the target at least. Do you think there's a way to make it more stable?"
Vel considered her question thoughtfully. "Honestly? I don't know yet. We just figured out that distance was the problem, but there's probably more to it than that."
From the corner of his eye, Vel noticed movement in the elite zone. Severin Thornwood and several other privileged students were watching their gathering with poorly concealed irritation. The success of the "unstable" group clearly hadn't been anticipated—or welcomed.
Near the assessment tables, combat instructors had formed their own cluster, heads bent in intense discussion. Though they kept their voices low, Vel noticed several gestures toward their group.
Vel suppressed a smile as understanding dawned on the faces around him. The group buzzed with renewed energy, discussing modifications to their approaches and comparing notes on their affinities and the impact of proximity on their casting.
The combat assessment drew to a close, Vel finally caught sight of Celia across the testing grounds. She was smiling, looking back at him. The sight alone was enough to tell that she had passed the first test with her lightning affinity.
For an instant, the scene reminded him of the flash of the strange vision he'd experienced at the Academy gate. But this was different—this Celia was real, her smile familiar and directed at him, not the distant, harsh laugh from that disturbing glimpse.
Instructor Lyvenna clapped her hands to gather their group's attention. "The Strength assessment is now complete," she announced. "You have thirty minutes to rest before the Knowledge assessment begins in the Academy's eastern wing."
The unstable attunement students dispersed, many still discussing the close-range casting technique Vel had demonstrated. Tomas lingered nearby.
"Thank you," he said sincerely. "For helping me. The instructors at my preparatory school kept saying I'd never amount to much with my affinity."
"This test wasn't about individual power," Vel replied, meeting Tomas's eyes. "It was about working together. You held up your end perfectly."
Vel observed the exam ground, where Severin Thornwood was surrounded by admirers. Across the distance, Kein moved gracefully, his entourage in tow. For a moment, their eyes met, but Kein's look held no warmth or recognition—only a calculating assessment.
"Thirty minutes break," he said to Tomas. "Let's find somewhere to rest."
Vel walked in thoughtful silence. For the first time since arriving at the Academy, he felt genuine curiosity beneath his practical concerns. Just how much did the Academy actually know about magic? And how much of what they "knew" was simply assumption, tradition, or misinterpretation?
He was looking forward to finding out.