"Eight hundred and fifty applicants? Wait, that can't be right—is there some kind of mistake in the numbers?"
Inside a towering seven-story building with countless windows, more fortress than academy, an air of anticipation hung heavy.
The colossal structure overlooked a vast courtyard, now bustling with people from all walks of life—various factions, ranks, and ambitions—each one here for the same reason: the special exam that was just moments away from beginning.
Somewhere on the fifth floor of that maze-like building, in one of its many identical rooms, two men sat across from each other. Between them was a wide table cluttered with documents—papers listing out the structure of the exam and, more pressingly, the number of those participating.
One of them, busy scanning through the files, suddenly paused. His eyes froze on a particular number.
"Eight hundred and fifty..." he muttered again, disbelief creeping into his voice as he glanced up at the other man. "Are we sure this is accurate?"
The other supervisor barely looked up from his seat. Calmly, he nodded.
"Without a doubt. We don't make mistakes when it comes to numbers."
The answer came quick and sharp—almost too matter-of-fact. The first man rubbed the back of his head in disbelief, then stared back down at the papers as if they'd change just by looking harder.
"Okay, fine, let's say the number is right," he said, voice rising. "But isn't this… overkill? Eight hundred and fifty applicants?! Are they underestimating the test? Where the hell is all this confidence coming from?!"
His voice echoed louder than it should have in the quiet room, clearly irritating the man sitting across from him. And yet, the shock wasn't unwarranted. Over the past fifty years, participation in this exam had been steadily declining, with only a few spikes in certain years. But even then, the numbers never mattered much—no matter how many applied, at least 80% were guaranteed to fail. Every. Single. Year.
No matter how bright you think your star shines… here, you're just another piece of trash.
Isn't that a more accurate way of putting it?
The second supervisor sighed and turned his gaze toward the window, taking a breath before speaking.
"...Yeah. This is probably the largest batch we've seen in decades. Whether they pass or fail, it's rare to get this kind of turnout. And don't forget the rumors— The king of Linderia supposedly sending his daughter to take part. Luthiria's sending in fourteen of their top rising stars. And whispers say Wysperia's got some legendary hero lined up too. However you look at it, this year's exam is stacked with talent and freakishly exceptional cases. So yeah... I get it, this year's different. You don't have to scream about it."
His words only deepened the other man's confusion. And just as the weight of that thought sank in—
Ding...
A faint chime echoed through the building. Quiet enough that no one outside could hear, but within these walls? Everyone knew what it meant.
The two supervisors immediately stood, gathering their papers in silence before heading out the door.
The exam had officially begun.
And this was no ordinary test. There wasn't a single soul in the world who would describe it in positive terms—at least not without sending a chill down your spine.
What was the point of this exam, anyway? Why design something just to make people fail? Was it some new form of sadism? A torture ritual disguised as an academic challenge?
It was like asking someone to carve a mountain… with a hammer and chisel.
As the chime faded inside the academy halls, the entire building stirred to life. Staff and observers made their way toward special rooms, each equipped with massive crystals—screens, basically—that displayed the scene outside in vivid detail.
There they were.
Eight hundred and fifty hopefuls standing in the courtyard. Nervous. Fired up. Ready—or not—for whatever hell was about to come.
---
Outside the massive building, Shiro still stood in front of the gate leading to the courtyard, waiting for it to open.
Guards were turning massive crank handles attached to rotating mechanisms, the kind you'd see on ancient fortress gates. The gears groaned and creaked as the doors slowly, agonizingly opened—one heavy inch at a time. And during that short wait, Shiro could barely contain himself. His body buzzed with anticipation, like his blood was boiling just to witness what lay behind that towering gate.
And then... it opened.
The view that greeted him was overwhelming.
A flood of people—dozens of faces, dozens of backgrounds. Individuals from different families, bloodlines, social classes, and all sorts of ranks were scattered across a courtyard so massive, your naked eye couldn't even spot where it ended.
And beyond that crowd… stood the Academy.
A towering palace of stone and mystery, known simply as the Academy Building. The heart of magical knowledge. The birthplace of every legend. The sacred place that housed all teachings of sorcery, its origins, and its evolution. This was the place every aspiring mage and warrior longed to enter.
This was the cradle of heroes.
Shiro stood there, stunned—completely frozen in place. He didn't even notice one of the guards nudging him forward until the man barked something. Snapped out of his trance, Shiro stepped through the gate and into the chaotic blend of emotions flooding the air—an atmosphere teetering between tension and fear... and confidence and determination.
These clashing emotions—so raw, so visible on every face—spoke of one thing:
Fear.
The kind of fear that whispers, "This might just decide your entire fate in this world."
And honestly? For most of them, it probably would.
Shiro scanned the area, eyes darting from left to right, soaking in his surroundings. He quickly noticed how people were already loosely divided into groups, chatting amongst themselves.
Not that anyone had assigned them groups. No, this division was natural. Instinctual. Logical.
Here in this courtyard, you could find someone from every tribe and every clan. From noble houses to common villages. The poor, the privileged, the unknown, the famous—everyone was here.
Half-dragons. Elves. Clan heirs. Seasoned fighters. All of them saw the Academy as their golden ticket to greatness.
If you paid closer attention, you'd notice one particular group—shimmering like magpies in a coal mine. Dressed in elegant robes, draped in spotless jewelry and embroidered cloth, their smug expressions and oozing arrogance practically announced their identity.
They looked at the rest like insects. No—less than insects. Like pests that somehow managed to crawl into their pristine little world.
Like… biting into a grain of black pepper you didn't see coming.
Yeah. No mistaking them. The nobles.
And not just any nobles—Wysperian nobles.
Nobles in name only.
Nearby, another group caught Shiro's eye—fourteen individuals, each one different from the next. One of them clearly had fey blood; the other reeked of demonic energy.
What kind of mix is this? Shiro wondered.
Again, no one told them to group up this way. It was just the natural way of things. Rank. Bloodline. Status. All the invisible rules of this world put people in their "place."
I mean, think about it.
Why would a noble bother talking to someone without a fancy hat?
Why interact with someone who doesn't flaunt his women like trophies?
Honestly, they probably had their own warped logic for staying away from the "peasants."
It was painfully obvious—social hierarchy and bloodlines still ruled, even in a supposedly neutral place like this.
"Okay... isn't this a little too much?"
Yeah, Shiro could feel it now—those emotions hanging in the air were starting to get to him. There was pressure, sure. But that wasn't what bothered him most.
What really started gnawing at him was the way people reacted to him.
He wasn't exactly decked out in gold or wearing royal embroidery. His robe was plain. Worn. Modest. And just by looking at him once, everyone could tell—this guy's got no title, no power, no house.
And the nobles?
They immediately steered clear.
"Uh, hey there? Do you know what's happening next? Are we supposed to wait for something?"
Shiro, thinking logically, decided to talk to someone who looked just like him—no flashy clothes, no glowing aura, just another average man.
"...."
The guy stared right past him.
Like Shiro wasn't even there.
Then he turned his head away and walked off like it never happened.
"...What the..?"
Shiro blinked in confusion, but shrugged it off and moved on to the next person. And the next.
And the next.
Each time, the same thing happened. He'd ask something, and they'd either grimace, look away, or just flat-out walk in the opposite direction.
And this was just the common folk. He hadn't even tried talking to a noble yet.
Can you imagine asking a noble for directions? That would be a scene worth capturing on camera, honestly.
Shiro knew how the class system worked. He'd seen it the second he stepped into the courtyard.
But this?
This was something else.
They weren't just looking down on him.
They were ignoring him.
Like he didn't exist.
Because to them… he was just another rag-wearing nobody. A farmer who wandered into their world by accident.
But what made things even more strange was the fact that even the commoners—people just like him—were ignoring him. That left a pretty bitter taste in Shiro's mouth.
In the end, he gave up trying to ask around. It was pointless. People were just going to keep ignoring him. So, he sighed and decided to sit by the edge of the plaza. That's when someone approached him.
"Hey, you."
The voice came from behind, but Shiro didn't bother turning around. After what just happened, he'd already made peace with the fact that no one here was going to talk to him.
Honestly? You can't really blame him.
"Come on, now. Just 'cause everyone's ignoring you doesn't mean you should do the same to someone trying to talk to you, man."
The voice was closer now—much closer. It sounded more direct, more focused. That's when Shiro finally turned around… and saw him.
A red-haired, red-eyed guy stood there. He had a solid build, slightly taller than Shiro, and looked to be around the same age. He wore simple clothes—definitely a commoner too—and had a round earring on his left ear that made him stand out, almost too much.
"Yo. I saw you earlier trying to talk to some people. They ignored you, huh?"
Shiro glanced at the guy's outfit, then back at his own. Yeah, not much of a difference. They were clearly from the same social class. And judging by his tone, the guy had probably been ignored too.
"Yeah… I tried asking a bunch of people, but no one gave me anything."
There was a short pause before Shiro replied, but the red-haired guy just smiled at him with surprising energy.
"Well, that's normal. People won't bother answering if you're not on their level. You feel it too, don't you? The vibe here?"
"Vibe? You mean like... pre-exam nerves?"
"Nooo, not exactly. I mean the feeling floating in the air. Don't you notice it? That tension. The fear. That crawling chill down your spine. No one knows what kind of hellish exam awaits us. No one knows the format or how it'll be conducted. That's why everyone's on edge."
The guy gestured animatedly as he talked, describing the unease that had settled over everyone in the plaza like a contagious illness.
"...And to deal with that pressure, people start gravitating toward others in their social circle. It's a coping thing, y'know?"
He sounded smart… kinda. But was it really that serious? Serious enough for everyone to be this cold?
"I mean, I don't mind them forming groups or whatever, but it leaves us commoners in the dust."
The guy voiced his thoughts plainly.
"Commoners… yeah. Unlike nobles, we don't really trust each other quickly. Or maybe we just don't get each other. And gathering together might actually make things worse—might even attract unwanted attention. Meanwhile, nobles have that high status, that self-assurance to speak freely without consequence. If only they could get over their pride…"
Shiro muttered those words with a bitter tone. You'd think the weak would stick together. Instead, they all sat in silence, each waiting for someone else to move first.
"Ooh, that's a sharp take. Did you study at some fancy place or something?"
The guy asked with genuine curiosity. It wasn't a weird question, honestly. Most people who understood the unspoken rules of society had some kind of special education. Regular schools didn't teach you why nobles ignore commoners, or why it's forbidden for a commoner to step foot on royal grounds. That was just… something you grew up knowing. Your dad would tell you. Your mom would warn you. "Don't go near the guy in fancy robes." "Don't wander near the central district."
"Nah, I just read a few good books, that's all."
"Huh… there are actually books about this stuff? Well, I gotta say, you seem a lot smarter than you look."
"...Was that a compliment or an insult?"
Shiro raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, but the guy just burst out laughing. A loud, carefree laugh that actually drew some side-eyes from the crowd—probably wondering who the heck was laughing at a time like this.
"You've got some guts, man. I like that. Name's Leo. Leo Hawk. You?"
The guy suddenly held out his hand for a shake.
"Oh, I'm Shiro Leonard. Nice to meet you, Leo."
Shiro shook his hand without hesitation.
"Likewise, buddy! Now then, let's see… What were you trying to ask earlier?"
After that oddly refreshing introduction, Shiro glanced at Leo. He didn't seem like the type who knew much about the exam either, but Shiro decided to ask anyway.
"Yeah, I was just wondering what's supposed to happen next. When does the exam start, and what will it be like?"
"Hmmm..."
Leo crossed his arms and looked at Shiro with a puzzled expression. The kind of look someone gives right before roasting you.
"You seriously have no clue, huh."
"That's why I'm asking. All I know is a bit about the academy's history."
"Well… at least you've got that much."
He said with a shrug and a teasing smirk.
"...Was that another insult?"
To Shiro, Leo came off as pretty chill—confident even. Way more composed than the others.
"Hahaha, relax, dude. I'm just messing with you. Okay, so, here's the thing… As everyone—except you—knows, the exam changes every year. It's not a fixed format or anything, so the difficulty can go up or down depending on the year."
"But it's still considered a tough exam, right? Hard to pass?"
"Well, you can't really label it as 'hard' or 'easy' just like that."
"What do you mean?"
"Think about it—this is basic stuff. Say the exam focuses on a specific magical element, and it's all about how well you can control it. For people who can use that element, the test might be a breeze. But for those who can't? It'll be a nightmare, right?"
Shiro didn't answer directly. He paused for a moment, then replied with another question.
"But… there's no way the Academy would give us a test like this, right?"
"Yeah, yeah, they wouldn't do something like that. Most likely, they'll twist the rules a bit—like instead of controlling just one element, maybe they'll make us control multiple ones or something like that!"
"But that wouldn't really change much. I mean, what if I can only control two elements? And someone else can control, like, four?"
"And that brings us right back to square one. You're really smarter than you look, you know? Are you some noble with a weird kink for wearing tattered clothes? Is that your thing?"
"Please… watch your tongue…"
They actually seemed to be getting along surprisingly well.
"Ahhh, well, whatever the format is, it won't change the fact that the test is gonna be hard as hell for a lot of people. Now, as for when the test begins… hmm… maybe it already started the moment you walked through that gate?"
At that moment, Leo casually dropped the kind of statement that could make someone fail on the spot—with a peaceful smile on his face, as if he had nothing to worry about. Unlike Shiro, whose nerves were now about to snap.
"W-Wait, what?! It started?! What do you mean by that?!"
Completely unable to contain his panic, Shiro shouted out in alarm.
"Dude, chill. Keep your voice down, will ya? What's panic gonna do for you now? If I were you, I'd try to act natural… they might be monitoring us right now, and if they catch you freaking out, you might just get booted from the test."
"Wait, is that even possible?!"
Leo just kept fanning the flames, making Shiro even more frantic. The poor guy started looking around like a cornered animal, sweat pouring down his body.
It was painfully obvious that Leo was just joking around… a joke Shiro couldn't register at all through the storm of anxiety clouding his head.
And while Leo was having the time of his life messing with Shiro, someone suddenly noticed a strange light coming from the academy building. A tiny spark… in broad daylight? It wasn't a star or a comet, that's for sure—not in the middle of the day.
In a flash, the light grew brighter than the sun itself. Everyone saw it—no one could miss it. And in the next instant, something shot out from that light at an unbelievable speed. It tore through the air with a deafening roar, shaking the very skies.
It was falling—no, crashing—straight toward a place no one would've expected.
It slammed directly into the spot where Leo and Shiro were standing.
The impact caused a tremor that knocked everyone nearby off their feet. Those close by felt it. Those farther away heard it. And the ground exploded, sending dust and debris into a furious storm that completely swallowed the area.
Seconds passed. Everyone stood in stunned silence, mouths open, eyes wide, waiting for the dust to clear. No one dared to speak. No one dared to even ask what just happened.
Was it an attack? Impossible. The world's been at peace for ages. Sure, there are rogue beasts and criminals out there, but none would be insane enough to attack an academy. That'd be suicide.
"…Hm, Not bad, not bad at all."
As the dust began to settle, a voice emerged from within it. A man's voice—deep, composed. Definitely not Leo or Shiro.
"Oh gods… he really did it… Why didn't *
any of you stop him?!"
Inside the Academy's observation room, packed with staff members and supervisors, one of them spoke with a hand to his head, staring out the massive—now shattered—window, eyes locked onto the chaos in the testing grounds.
"I can't believe he cleared the first test like that. What the hell is wrong with him?!"
He turned to the others, who responded with a range of reactions—from laughter to awkward grins to outright confusion and indifference.
"…Well… he suddenly stood up… flared his energy, and then just *launched* himself out the window. As you can see… I was gonna stop him but…"
One of them offered a hesitant explanation, and the supervisor rubbed his head in exasperation before dropping back into his seat, eyes drifting back to the crystal orb projecting the scene in real time.
"We can't do anything about it now. Just… let it play out."
Down below, at the center of the impact zone—at last, the dust began to clear.
And the jaws… they dropped.
A person. Yep. A person had just flown out of the building like a meteor. A human being. Well… "human" might be a bit of a stretch.
He landed from that absurd height like it was nothing, barehanded and aiming directly at Leo.
"This is your damn test? Seriously?"
His voice was low and shaky, as Leo barely managed to block the incoming blow. The attacker wore the signature uniform of Stalefort Academy's supervisors—a white cloak with golden and black embellishments.
There he stood in front of Leo, bare hands pressing hard against Leo's—who had taken a defensive stance at the very last moment, arms raised and braced against the man's strike.
What shocked everyone wasn't the attack… but that Leo blocked it.
The ground beneath him cracked, his legs sank deep into the earth, and veins bulged across his arms as he stood firm—barely.
But nothing could compare to the look on Shiro's face, who stood frozen beside him. The guy couldn't even run away. Not even fall. His legs had turned into stone, locked in place even after that earth-shaking impact.
"That's enough for now."
The supervisor muttered as he jumped back and away from Leo, who immediately collapsed—well, didn't fall so much as sink further into the crater with his legs still embedded up to his knees.
"D-Damn…"
Leo gasped, breathing hard, his arms trembling violently, veins pulsing like mad.
It wasn't just the power of the hit—it was the sheer mental strain of reacting fast enough. One second late, and he'd be minced meat right now.
But the supervisor didn't give Leo more than a passing glance. Instead, he turned his attention straight to Shiro—still frozen, still trembling like a leaf in a hurricane.
"Hmph. I'd have disqualified you if your legs gave out—but fine. Your luck's running out soon anyway."
He muttered that, glancing at Shiro trembling in the corner of his eye.
Of course, Shiro couldn't even speak, let alone move. Leo, on the other hand, was in a completely different state. Though he was gasping for air, the feeling had begun returning to his hands—and with it, a burning pain that surged through his arms. Holding back a scream, Leo ignored his own condition and kept his scorched gaze locked on that man.
Moments later, the man vanished like a mirage—right after delivering those ominous words that didn't just terrify Shiro, but chilled everyone to the bone. He didn't fly, he didn't sink into the ground… it was more like he'd evaporated into thin air or just teleported on the spot.
That brief moment of tension, that eerie stillness that lingered over the arena, shattered. And in its place came fear. Raw, unfiltered fear. It spread like wildfire—except for a rare few souls who, honestly, I have no idea what could scare them anymore.
"Oi, are you okay?"
Leo called out to Shiro, who had collapsed beside him the moment that man disappeared. His face had gone completely pale.
"…What the hell are you?"
Staring blankly ahead as if his pupils had frozen in place, Shiro ignored the question from his half-buried friend and threw out one of his own, still trying to process everything that just happened.
"Ahaha… I'm just some guy who punches stuff for fun every day."
"That's so far from just 'punch training' it's not even funny! What did you do?! How the hell did you block that falling meteor?!"
Shiro's tone snapped back to normal, yelling at the absurd answer coming from his friend who had just started pulling his legs out from the ground.
"Well, it's not like I completely blocked it or anything. He held back at the last second."
"…He held back?"
One of the nearby spectators repeated that line, utterly dumbfounded by the fact someone could block such an attack at all.
"Hm? Oh, now you guys wanna acknowledge me, huh?"
"N-No, I didn't mean—"
Leo raised an eyebrow with a cocky grin on his face, but the lingering shock in his expression was clear as day—same as everyone else.
"Ah, whatever. Don't overthink it. Yeah, he slowed down right before hitting me. 'Cause if he'd come at me full speed with that kind of power? He'd have sliced me clean in half. Even with him holding back, I couldn't stop it entirely. Just look at my arms."
Everyone's eyes followed his gesture. After a closer look, they saw that his right elbow was visibly dislocated, and both of his arms were blood-red, like he'd been slapped by winter itself.
"This is…"
No one could hide their horror anymore. And only a handful among them even remotely understood how Leo had managed to stop that attack—though none had the faintest idea why it had even happened.
Just then, before anyone could digest what had just gone down—before anyone could fully register the miracle that was Leo—something else stole the spotlight.
A massive crystal appeared, hovering high above the arena. It was easily the size of a small house. Floating in mid-air, it cast a shimmering glow over everyone, with the academy building looming just behind it.
Every eye turned skyward. Inside that floating crystal, a figure began to materialize.
A man. Bearded—immensely so—and stark white from head to toe. His face was wrinkled like an old scroll, and he wore tiny round glasses perched on his nose. One look and you'd think he'd lived three lifetimes too many. He didn't waste any time. With a voice that rumbled through their minds and echoed in their chests, he spoke:
"Greetings… and welcome to the entrance exam for the great Stalefort Academy. It is my honor to greet the leaders of tomorrow—the prodigies of this generation. I am Hazel Doargo, headmaster of this esteemed academy and governor of this region. Welcome, all, to the Stalefort Entrance Exam."
The moment his rough, booming voice rang out from within that crystal, a suffocating silence swept over the arena. Not a single whisper. Not a breath. Everyone was frozen, locked in place by the weight of his words.
And this was before he even revealed what kind of test they'd be facing.
After a few moments of silence, Hazel Doargo began explaining the structure of the exam. And right from the start, he said something no one was prepared for—something that chilled everyone's spine.
A single line that could drive a person mad:
"Hmm… I see you're all curious about the nature of this exam, aren't you?"
Clearly, his sense of humor was just as terrible as his face.
"Well then, let me begin. As you all know, the Stalefort entrance exam changes every year. Now, this year… with a rather unusual number of overconfident applicants, we've decided to divide the exam into three phases."
He spoke in a calm, casual tone—and then paused, just long enough to make everyone's nerves tingle.
"The first phase is already over. That was the 'Elimination Round.' As the name implies, this phase cuts down the numbers significantly. Out of a total of 850 applicants… 487 have been eliminated, based on evaluations made by our proctors. Which leaves 363 of you moving on to the next stage."
Everyone stopped breathing.
"Shocked" didn't even begin to cover it. The atmosphere grew so heavy, some people literally collapsed under the weight of it. It was suffocating—so much so, you probably wouldn't even want to look at the expressions on their faces. The panic spread even before the names were shown. The number was too big. Anyone could be among the eliminated.
"Those whose names appear on the right side of the board, please step forward. If your name is on the left… better luck next year."
He said it with a smile before his image faded from the crystal.
Then, two gates opened: one leading inside the academy building, the other leading out of the arena. In the crystal's place, a massive board appeared—split clean down the middle. On the right, in glowing golden letters, were the words "Passed", followed by a list of names who had survived the first trial.
On the left, in deep, ominous red, were the words "Failed"—and beneath them, a list of those who hadn't made the cut.
At once, all 850 applicants surged forward toward the board, chasing their dreams and praying to every god they could name that they wouldn't find their names on that cursed side.