Chapter 10 - Examination

The Four Moons Royal Academy is perhaps the most prestigious school in the world. It was founded almost a thousand years ago, after the Blackreach Treaty, by the four Kingdoms to foster cooperation and understanding between the future leaders of the kingdoms. As the name suggests, the majority of the students who attend are nobles; however, there are some talented or promising commoners who receive sponsorships to be eligible to attend.

Once every five years, the academy holds an admission examination. Although there is technically no age limit for attendees (meaning they can stay until they die), examinees, on the other hand, must be younger than fifteen to be admitted. However, no one remains past the age of twenty, as that is when they, as nobles, become eligible to receive a title, making it pointless to stay at school any longer.

Today was the day of the examination. Every examination day, at least a thousand people attend in hopes of gaining admission, but only two hundred are selected, and today would be no different.

There were currently four long lines of people outside the academy gates. In front of each line was a desk with a staff member sitting there, processing the examinees one by one to verify their documents.

Wesley was currently standing near the end of the first line. Even though he had woken up early, he was surprised to find that there were at least eight hundred people ahead of him. Thinking about how early the first person must have arrived made him shudder.

Fortunately for Wesley, there were four lines, so he only had to wait for about two hundred people or so, and he didn’t mind waiting in line. However, the majority of applicants were nobles, so they didn’t share Wesley's view of lines, and most of them grumbled and complained.

The guy behind Wesley was even more disgruntled at having to wait in line than the others. He kept complaining, god knows to whom, about how he had never been humiliated before, even cursing the school.

Eventually, he calmed down after realizing that most of the other people were nobles as well, making his complaints about mistreatment seem rather stupid. However, he suddenly felt a tinge of anger after noticing the guy in front of him was nothing but a beggar. He looked at Wesley and then spoke in the most condescending and arrogant tone possible:

"Ha, I didn’t know beggars could apply to this school."

Of course, he didn’t speak directly to Wesley, but Wesley knew he was the target. Wesley didn’t mind being called a beggar, so he simply ignored the guy. Seeing that he was being ignored, the guy grew angrier and raised his voice even further, speaking again:

"I wonder if they have an alms program for beggars. Haha, that must be it, it must be the alms program."

Wesley had already shut out the annoying person behind him, so he didn’t even hear what he said. The guy was starting to get really annoyed at the audacity of a beggar ignoring him, and the giggles from those around them who saw what was happening only made him angrier.

He reached for his sword, thinking that no one should complain if he killed a random beggar. But the moment he was about to pull out his sword, he heard a cold voice full of killing intent come from the beggar:

"Unsheathe that sword, and you will die."

The guy instantly froze. He honestly saw his head roll off his body the moment he heard Wesley’s voice, filled with murderous intent. In fact, everyone around them who heard Wesley speak felt their hearts tighten and didn’t dare utter a word. The guy didn’t even dare remove his hand from the hilt of his sword, for fear that it might be mistaken for unsheathing. He simply stood there, his face pale.

Wesley just stood there, waiting for the idiot to unsheathe his sword so that he wouldn't be blamed when he killed him—after all, it would be self-defense. He kept waiting, but was disappointed when the guy didn’t even move. Maybe he should just kill him, but then he would lose his chance to attend the academy, forcing him to return to the palace. So, Wesley restrained himself with a heavy heart and just continued waiting for his turn in line.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

After a few hours, it was finally Wesley's turn. He stepped forward to stand in front of the desk where the staff member was sitting. The staffer wore a light blue robe and appeared to be in his late forties, with only his face showing signs of age, full of wrinkles. He looked unconcerned by Wesley's appearance and spoke in a professional tone:

"Your documents."

Wesley immediately dug out his invitation from his little satchel and handed it over. The old staffer looked at the document, and his face showed a hint of surprise, but it quickly returned to its usual tranquility. He wrote something down, then pulled out a small blue rectangle and, while handing it to Wesley, spoke in a voice that remained professional but with a hint of respect:

"Number 217. Please head towards the second hall."

Wesley nodded and walked toward the second hall. There were two halls behind each staff member, with an extra hall at the far end. It seemed that each hall was supposed to hold around a hundred people, as only the sixteen people before Wesley were directed to the second hall.

The moment Wesley walked in, he saw that there were indeed sixteen people in the hall. In front of them were three doors: two small doors next to each other, and one giant door to the side. In front of the group stood an elderly man wearing a blue robe with a hunched back. His eyebrows seemed to cover his eyes, making it appear as though he was sleeping, and his face was full of wrinkles.

Wesley didn’t approach the old man, sensing that there was more to him than met the eye. However, the old man seemed to take note of Wesley, scrunching his drooping eyebrows to look at him. His silver eyes gleamed in a threatening way. After staring at Wesley for a brief moment, the old man returned to his original appearance.

The moment Wesley noticed the old man’s eyes on him, he felt a dreadful pressure, similar to when he had experienced his teacher’s Dark Globe. But when facing his teacher, he at least knew he was safe. With this strange old man, though, Wesley felt as though he could die at any moment. The difference in power was undeniable.

He considered releasing his Dark Globe and fleeing, but he knew that wouldn’t have much effect on such an opponent. Still, he refused to give up on surviving and kept racking his brain for a way to escape from this old monster.

Fortunately for Wesley, before he could begin his escape, the old man looked away, and the tremendous pressure instantly disappeared. Wesley let out a deep breath of relief, relaxing slightly, though some fear still lingered in his heart.

For the next few hours, regardless of how many people entered the hall, Wesley remained in the corner of the room. He didn’t want to be anywhere near that old man and was preparing to invoke his Dark Warp as soon as he felt danger. His plan was to use Dark Globe to at least slow the old man down and then flee with Dark Warp. But he still wasn’t certain of his ability to escape.

Finally, the hall was filled with people. As soon as the last person walked in, the hall gates slammed shut, and the old man stepped forward. While everyone looked back at the gates, Wesley’s attention remained fixed on the old man. The moment he saw the old man move, his nerves kicked in.

The old man didn’t open his eyes this time, and he spoke in a clear but commanding voice:

"Welcome to the first admission test. I am the Second Elder, and I will be your examiner today. This exam is simple: all you have to do is walk into that door and come out the other side. Simple, right? Now, who will be first?"

The moment the elder finished speaking, the hall erupted into chatter. These people were not fools; they knew the tests would not be as simple as the elder made it sound. Everyone was cautious, but after a few minutes, a burly guy with a great sword on his back stepped forward. The elder gave him a nod, and the youth walked into the door.

After nearly half a minute, a deafening scream was heard from within the room, which startled everyone. What sort of thing could be inside these doors? The elder simply shook his head and spoke again in his usual monotone:

"Failed. Next."

Everyone was startled by the sudden declaration. They realized that the test was not only complicated but potentially deadly. Yet these youths were relentless. One after another, they stepped forward, only to be met with screams from behind the doors. Almost thirty people were pronounced as "failed" by the elder.

Eventually, no one dared step forward anymore.

Suddenly, a slim youth about Wesley's height stepped forward. He wore a white robe with blue patterns embroidered on it. The youth had one hand behind his back as he walked toward the door. The elder turned his head to look at the youth, and for a split second, a faint smile appeared on his face. But no one noticed—no one except Wesley, who was unconcerned with anything but the old man.

The white-robed youth walked into the door without hesitation. No one expected much from him, as stronger-looking candidates had failed before him. But no scream came, and after three minutes, the other door opened. The white-robed youth walked out, his robe torn in many places and his face covered in sweat, but he didn’t seem injured.

Seeing the youth emerge from the exit, the hall erupted once again into shouts—some cheering, while others cursed. Immediately, the elder raised his hand to quiet everyone. After the hall was silent, he spoke:

"Passed in three minutes and fourteen seconds. You may proceed."

The moment the words left his lips, the giant door opened, and the white-robed youth walked in. Everyone was emboldened by his success, believing that the test was not impossible. Still, they hesitated to move forward.

Wesley, however, was delighted. If he passed this damn test, he could leave this place and get as far away from the old monster as possible. So, he started walking toward the door, glancing at the old man as he moved. The old man, seeing Wesley approach, turned his head toward him but didn’t open his eyes this time. Then he spoke in an almost amused voice, a stark contrast to his usual monotone:

"You are allowed to use any technique."

Wesley didn’t even respond to the old man. His only objective was getting into that door, passing through, and getting the hell out of here. He didn’t have time to waste on words, so he pretended not to hear anything. However, the other people in the hall grasped the situation. This youth, who looked like a beggar, had elicited words from the elder. Something was off.

Wesley walked into the door without hesitation, and as soon as he set foot inside, he was greeted by darkness. He didn’t mind the darkness—in fact, he felt at home in it. As he looked around, he was surprised by what he saw. He had expected something scary, considering how many people had failed, but this room—about fifty feet long—was filled with traps: arrows shooting from the walls, pits, tripwires, swinging swords, and more. It seemed that those who failed were simply unprepared.

He laughed to himself, then invoked his Dark Warp and reappeared at the end of the hallway. He turned into the other corridor. Since the two doors were side by side, the hallways formed a U-shape. The second hall wasn’t much different from the first; it was filled with traps as well. He used Dark Warp again and emerged next to the exit.

Wesley didn’t walk out immediately. If people saw him pass this test in just ten seconds, it would attract unwanted attention—especially from that old monster. He definitely wanted to avoid that. After waiting for a few minutes, he finally walked out.

The moment he did, he made a beeline for the giant gate. He didn’t want to be near this wretched old man any longer than necessary. Behind him, all he heard was the noise from the hall and the old monster’s declaration:

"Passed in three minutes and ten seconds. You may proceed."

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

The moment Wesley stepped through the giant gate, his eyes stung from the bright light. He stopped for a moment, but as soon as his eyes adjusted, he noticed that he was in a hallway brightly lit by odd crystals on the ceiling. The hallway didn’t seem very long—about fifty feet—so Wesley walked toward the exit.

After stepping through the exit, Wesley found himself in a square room, with a black pillar standing in front of him. On the opposite wall, behind the pillar, were two gates. Between the gates was a viewing balcony with three robed people sitting there.

Seeing the three people seated in the balcony, Wesley cursed his fortune. These three elders gave him the same feeling he had gotten from that old monster, and the fact that there were three of them was enough for him to believe that today was truly the last day of his life.

While Wesley was lost in his self-pity, the middle elder spoke in a monotone voice, similar to the old monster's:

"Welcome to the second test. Please use your best technique on that pillar."

Wesley was surprised by the command and responded, his voice filled with surprise:

"What are the requirements to pass?"

"That is for us to decide." The reply came as soon as the question was asked.

"What kind of techniques do you want to see?"

"That is for you to decide." Again, the reply was quick.

Wesley shrugged his shoulders. Then, he bent his body forward, twisting his upper body until his right shoulder was perpendicular to the pillar. He placed his hand on his dark sword. Wesley was planning to use his final Silent Sword technique: *Silent Beheader*. It was comparable to *Silent Draw*, but while *Silent Draw* relied on the speed of a sudden draw, *Silent Beheader* used more strength from the swinging action of the draw.

Wesley suddenly swung his sword toward the pillar. The swing wasn’t too fast, but it was still quick, and the moment the sword made contact with the pillar, a loud *ting* echoed through the room.

Wesley felt his sword arm recoil from the impact, while the black pillar didn’t have a scratch on it. Wesley was flabbergasted. *Silent Beheader* was the strongest physical technique in his arsenal. In fact, he was certain it could even slice steel, so what kind of metal was this pillar made from if it didn’t even have a scratch?

While Wesley was pondering the marvel in front of him, the middle elder spoke:

"Passed. Please step into the left gate."

Wesley snapped back from his thoughts. After bowing slightly to the elders, he walked toward the left door. As soon as he entered the left gate, he found himself in a long hall with around two hundred chairs. The hall was currently occupied by about seventy people, including the white-robed youth who was the first to pass. Wesley simply sat in one of the unoccupied seats.

He was really happy to have left those damn geezers behind.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Back in the second testing room with the three elders, the three were currently leaning toward one another, speaking in hushed voices.

"That sword technique was rather impressive," the left elder said with a smile.

"Indeed, but I was expecting him to use magic, given his body and aura," the right elder replied, though he had a slight frown.

"His technique was very powerful. But I’m still surprised he was sent by that bastard Rale. Why would he send a swordsman?" The middle elder spoke while staring at a sheet of paper.

"Do you think he...?" The left elder began to say something, but was interrupted by the right elder.

"Impossible. That Rale would never have let him live if he were. There must be something else," the right elder said, his face darkening as he imagined something.

"Either way, we’ll keep an eye on him. After all, that bastard never did anything without reason."