Chapter 11: Retest

“All at the same level?” Cassandra let out a dry, mischievous laugh. “You have quite the ego for someone with your mana capacity.”

She stepped closer, her perfume—something spicy and mature—filling his senses.

“What did I tell you during the test?”

“’Start right away when you are ready’?” Alex ventured.

“No,” she scowled. “I told you not to do anything strange. Creating a compressed singularity and then letting it fizzle out? That’s strange.”

Alex stayed silent. He had nothing to say. He had done his best. It wasn’t his fault his fuel tank was empty.

“Do it like earlier,” she commanded, pointing at the target dummy. “Show me the compression again. But this time, actually hit something.”

“Like earlier…”

Alex closed his eyes. He tried to summon the mana.

System?

[MP: 1/8] System Note: You have recovered 1 MP. Don’t spend it all in one place.

’Damn it.’

He couldn’t do the compression again. That required at least 3 MP. He was running on fumes.

He opened his eyes. He couldn’t refuse, or they’d fail him.

He raised his hand. He didn’t try to compress it this time. He just took the tiny scrap of mana he had—barely a dust mote’s worth—and swirled it around his finger.

It formed a tiny, pathetic marble of light.

With a mental shrug, he flicked his finger.

Ping.

The tiny marble flew forward. It was weak. It was slow. It looked like a child throwing a pebble.

But because he didn’t waste energy compressing it, it actually flew. It drifted lazily across the field, passing the halfway mark, and gently bonked against the target dummy.

Boop.

The dummy didn’t even wobble.

Cassandra stared at the dummy. Then she looked at Alex. Her expression was pure confusion.

“Why didn’t you do it like earlier?” she asked, exasperated. “Where is the density? The structure?”

’Because I’m empty, lady,’ Alex thought.

He couldn’t tell her the truth. “Oh, sorry, I’m just magically impotent”? No way.

So, he decided to bluff.

He looked her dead in the eye, channelling every ounce of his Charm: 34.

“It reached the target,” Alex said calmly. “It will be an A Rank, right?”

“What…?”

Cassandra’s forehead twitched. A blue vein pulsed visibly near her temple, threatening to burst. She looked like she wanted to strangle him, then hug him, then strangle him again. The curse of high Charm was working its confused magic.

Before she could explode, the other two judges leaned in.

“Technically, he deserves an A Rank, Professor Cassandra,” the old Wizard muttered, adjusting his spectacles. “The criteria were distance and accuracy. He achieved both.”

“Yes,” the Battle Mage instructor agreed, nodding vigorously. “And don’t forget that compression earlier. It was flawless. The kid clearly has talent, he just lacks… stamina. And isn’t he the top student in Theory? We should encourage him.”

They were practically giving him the grade.

Alex seized the moment. He widened his eyes slightly, tilting his head—the ultimate “Puppy Dog” technique.

Cassandra looked at the other professors. She looked at the target. She looked at Alex’s unfairly pretty face.

“Sigh~”

She deflated, massaging her temples.

“Fine. Ok. I give up,” she grumbled. “You get an A. Now get out of my sight before I change my mind.”

“Thank you, Professor!” Alex beamed, turning on his heel and walking away before she could realize she’d been swindled.

****

Outside the gate, Hanks was leaning against a pillar, kicking at the dirt. He straightened up as Alex approached.

“So?” Hanks asked, eyeing him suspiciously. “Did you get expelled? Or just an F?”

“I got an A,” Alex said casually, brushing dust off his shoulder.

Hanks froze. His jaw dropped. “What? How? You literally flicked a booger of mana at the dummy. There’s no way.”

Alex frowned. “What? You aren’t happy that I passed?”

Hanks blinked, realizing he was breaking character. He quickly slapped a fake grin onto his face.

“No! Of course not! I’m happy for you, man! Ecstatic!” He laughed, a little too loud. “I’m just… amazed by your hidden potential! That’s my best friend!”

He threw an arm around Alex’s shoulder.

“So,” Hanks said, draping an arm around Alex’s shoulder, effortlessly pivoting from shock to opportunism. “Wanna go to that new arcade? Celebrate your ’A’ grade? I heard they have the new succubus pinball machines.”

Alex paused. His mind flashed to the neon lights and the potential debauchery, but his body screamed a different story.

He checked his status. [MP: 1/8]

The adrenaline from the test was wearing off, leaving him feeling like a wrung-out towel. He could barely keep his eyes open, let alone handle the sensory overload of an arcade.

“I can’t,” Alex sighed, shaking his head. “I’m tapped out. My mana hit rock bottom during the test. If I cast one more spell—or even get too excited—I might actually pass out on the street.”

Hanks opened his mouth to protest, to beg, to guilt-trip him into paying for a night out. But he stopped. He looked at Alex’s pale face and trembling legs.

Hanks remembered the old Alex. The one who fainted if the wind blew too hard. The fact that he was even standing upright after a magic test was a miracle.

“Tch,” Hanks clicked his tongue, unable to hide his disappointment. “Fine. You look like a zombie anyway. Go rest up. But you owe me next time.”

“Yeah, yeah. Next time,” Alex waved him off.

He turned and began the walk back to the Edelhart dorms, leaving a sulking Hanks behind.

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