The city of Roris Marini outside offered no solace, only the chilling reminder of the inky void that had nearly claimed him.
"I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with wind. What am I?"
The riddle echoed in his mind, a relentless taunt. Was that how dungeons worked? A brutal, inscrutable test of intellect, rather than brute force? The memory of his bones splintering, of the blood pouring, was a fresh, sickening ache. He, the undisputed master of his school, had been utterly helpless. And then Caius, the old man who claimed to be an "old friend" of his mother, had appeared and vanished like a ghost, leaving him with more questions than answers. No one else knows. Keep it a secret.
The weight of that secret pressed down on him, a burden heavier than any physical wound.
Days later, when the hospital finally released him, Giovanno didn't return to the comforting illusion of school life. He went back to the skeletal remains of his abandoned house, each creaking floorboard and drafty window a stark reminder of his true station. The storm-damaged roof, the rotting floorboards, the pervasive chill – it all seemed worse now, mocking him after his near-death experience.
He couldn't ask directly about dungeons. Caius's warning, imbued with an ancient authority, resonated deeply. So, Giovanno tried a different approach.
During classes, he'd subtly guide discussions, asking theoretical questions about esoteric magical phenomena, about isolated spatial anomalies, about instances of magic behaving unexpectedly.
He'd hover around the teachers' lounge, feigning interest in mundane school affairs, hoping to overhear stray conversations. He even cornered the more bookish students in the library, casually inquiring about ancient magical texts.
But it was futile. His teachers, limited by the curriculum and perhaps their own knowledge, offered nothing more than textbook definitions that didn't remotely cover a sentient, shrinking dungeon with riddles.
The other students were just as clueless. He gleaned no answers, only a growing frustration that chipped at his carefully constructed facade of indifference. The secrecy wasn't just a burden; it was an impenetrable wall that kept him from the truth.
Eventually, he abandoned his cautious inquiries, the risk of suspicion outweighing the meager potential for information.
With the final year exam looming, a new, more immediate desperation settled in. Magicae Apicem Arcana required excellence, a focus he couldn't maintain while constantly battling the elements in his own home. For the first time in his life, Giovanno took on part-time jobs.
He, Giovanno Lucci, the "apex" sorcerer, the phantom thief, spent his afternoons and evenings scrubbing floors in a dusty marketplace, hauling crates for a local merchant, anything to earn legitimate coin. Every aching muscle, every blistered hand, was for one purpose: to rebuild his damaged house.
He bought planks, tarps, nails, working with a fierce, unyielding drive, determined to fix the damaged house.
The dungeon, with its bone-crushing walls and taunting riddle, had introduced Giovanno to fear for the very first time. It was a cold, alien sensation that had momentarily paralyzed his arrogance. But as the physical wounds healed, the pride, though shaken, reasserted itself. He remained a solitary figure, detached from his peers, still believing his unique path required no companions. Friends were an unnecessary complication, a weakness.
The day of the final year exam dawned, heralded by a sky the color of bruised plums. The air in the school's main auditorium crackled with a different kind of tension than usual – a mix of fervent hope and crippling anxiety. This wasn't just another test; it was the gateway to their futures, or a dead end.
Giovanno stood among the hundreds of students, a stone among pebbles. He saw the usual faces: the diligent ones, the nervous ones, the handful who truly believed they had a chance. None interested him. He was here for one purpose: to ace this exam.
A hush fell over the restless crowd as a figure stepped onto the raised dais at the front. This was Gnaeus, one of the school's oldest and most respected instructors, and a Magus of considerable power himself, though far below the caliber of the Magicae Apicem Arcana inspectors. His presence commanded quiet, his voice, when he spoke, resonating with a practiced authority.
"Students,"
Gnaeus began, his gaze sweeping over the eager, terrified faces.
"Today is the culmination of your years of study, the crucible that will determine your worthiness for the next stage of your magical journey. As you know, this exam is divided into two distinct parts."
He paused, his expression growing solemn.
"The requirements this year are… particularly stringent."
He continued, his words slow and deliberate, each one landing with a heavy finality.
"The first part is a comprehensive written examination, testing your theoretical knowledge of the Arcana Vitae, magical history, and the various scholae."
He gestured towards a series of prepared desks, each with quills and parchment.
"You will proceed directly to these stations upon my command."
Gnaeus then turned, his arm sweeping to indicate the massive, magically warded doors at the back of the auditorium.
"The second part, however, is a practical demonstration of your Potentia, Imperium, and Scholae mastery. It will be conducted in controlled environments designed to push your limits. Only those who achieve a passing score on the written portion will advance to the practical."
His voice dropped, becoming grave.
"Be warned: the standards for Magicae Apicem Arcana are higher than any you have ever faced. Many will fall short."
Giovanno felt a familiar surge of confidence. Written exams? Practical demonstrations? Child's play. He was ready for this. He had to be.
Hours later, the written portion concluded. Giovanno had finished early, as always, confident in every answer. The true test, however, lay beyond the warded doors.
The air in the practical arena was charged with crackling magic, humming with the contained power of spells. Here, the floor was scorched, the walls scarred, testaments to previous generations of aspiring sorcerers. Gnaeus stood in the center, a magically enhanced megaphone projecting his voice across the vast space.
"Welcome to the second part of your final examination,"
Gnaeus boomed. "Your practical prowess will be tested by a controlled magical beast, an illusion given form by our Anima Vinctum teachers. To pass this segment, your group must defeat it
." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the assembled students. "For efficiency, students will be divided into groups of eight."
A giant ethereal wolf, formed of swirling shadows and crackling energy, materialized at the far end of the arena, its glowing eyes fixed on the assembly. It stalked forward, its silence more menacing than any roar.
Gnaeus began calling names, assigning students to their respective battle circles. When he finally reached Giovanno's name, he listed him last.
"Group One: Giovanno Lucci…"
Giovanno felt a flicker of annoyance, but it quickly turned to outright indignation as the other names were called.
"…alongside Marcus, Aulus, Corvinus, Felix, Nero, Silvanus, and Valerius."
Giovanno's jaw tightened. He knew those names. They weren't just the bottom of their class; they were the worst. Marcus, whose shields always crumbled.
Aulus, whose energy blasts barely singed paper. Felix, whose attempts at elemental manipulation usually resulted in sparks and smoke, but little else.
Each of them were Imperium, focused on infusing magic into weapons, a discipline Giovanno understood to be less nuanced, less refined, than his own Transmutatio. He was the only scholae in this group.
A surge of anger, hot and familiar, flared through him. Was this some deliberate attempt to make him fail? To humble him for his unyielding arrogance?
Or was it a cynical move by the teachers to balance the strength in powers for the other groups, sacrificing his chance at a flawless victory for the sake of overall class performance?
The thought infuriated him. He was undoubtedly the strongest here, and they had saddled him with dead weight, a collection of students whose magical ineptitude was legendary. He was pissed off. This was an insult.
As Giovanno's group slowly, reluctantly, shuffled towards their designated battle circle, whispers rippled through the remaining students. The sheer imbalance of Group One was obvious to everyone.
"Did you see that?"
muttered Livia to her friend, Julia, as they watched Giovanno's group
. "Lucci's stuck with the Class Failures."
Julia nodded, her eyes wide.
"It's almost cruel, isn't it? Nero can barely light a match, let alone fight a beast like that. And Felix… remember that time he transmuted his own shoelaces into a knot?"
She giggled, but it was quickly stifled by a nervous glance at the powerful illusionary wolf.
"They must be trying to balance the other groups,"
Livia mused, though her voice carried a hint of skepticism.
"Giovanno could probably take that thing down by himself, but with them? It's like asking a Magus to babysit. Maybe they think it'll teach him teamwork."
Brutus, scoffed from nearby.
"Teamwork? Lucci? He thinks he's too good for all of us. This is the teachers' way of humbling him. They probably want to see if his 'apex' can carry seven anchor weights."
"But what if he can't?"
Julia whispered, a touch of morbid curiosity in her voice.
"What if they all fail because of this? That thing looks like it could tear them apart."
Livia bit her lip.
"Then it proves Magicae Apicem Arcana standards are higher than just raw power. Even Giovanno Lucci needs more than just himself to pass this test."
The whispers continued, a symphony of doubt and morbid fascination, as Giovanno and his reluctant teammates took their positions, facing the menacing, ethereal wolf. Giovanno ignored them, his focus narrowing on the beast, a burning resolve to prove them all wrong, no matter how infuriating his companions were.