Caleb pushed back from the table, patting his stomach with a sigh of profound satisfaction.

“Alright, that was a solid start. Top-notch service,”

he said, giving Rina a lazy, appreciative nod that only seemed to deepen her horrified confusion.

He turned his half-lidded gaze to Ray.

“So, this… magic thing.”

He let out a massive, jaw-cracking yawn.

“Headmaster wants me to… you know… teach you. Seems like a lot of work in the morning.”

He glanced around the spacious living area.

“You got somewhere comfortable we can sit?”

Ray, maintaining his mask of polite composure, gestured toward a side door.

“My private practice chamber is this way, Master Zipkin.”

He led the bizarre, shuffling procession, Caleb, followed by the silently observing Rina and Svane down a short hall. Ray opened the door to the warded practice chamber . The room was large, sterile, and silent, its walls etched with the faint, shimmering lines of high-circle containment and soundproofing wards, a standard feature for a Spire of Sages suite .

Caleb shuffled inside, his lazy gaze sweeping over the walls . For a fraction of a second, Ray saw it. The man’s half-lidded eyes sharpened, the slacker persona vanishing. It was a flicker of sharp, professional recognition as his gaze traced the complex, interwoven runic patterns. It was the look of a master craftsman assessing the work of another.

Ray’s internal Gritty Detective persona instantly flagged the micro-expression.

Detective: “He saw that. The ‘slacker’ persona slipped. He’s not just a burnt-out fool; he’s a 6th-Circle Master Mage who just reads those wards like a damn newspaper. He’s not as oblivious as he appears.”

The moment was gone as quickly as it came. Caleb’s lazy, unbothered expression returned. He completely ignored the powerful, advanced magic surrounding him and spotted a simple wooden stool in the corner. He shuffled over, leaned it back against the wall at a precarious angle, and crossed his flip-flopped feet .

He settled in, adjusted the grass stalk in his mouth , and fixed his lazy gaze on Ray.

“Alright, kid,”

Caleb said, his voice muffled by another yawn.

“Show me the fluke. Let’s see what Andrade’s all worked up about. Give me your best shot.”

Ray stood in the center of the warded practice chamber. Caleb was slouched on his stool, leaning it back against the wall . Rina and Sergeant Svane stood near the doorway, silent observers.

This was it. The most important performance of his new academic life. He had to sell weak, unstable, and pathetic to a 6th-Circle Master Mage.

A hot, indignant voice roared in his Ambient Presence.

Weaver: “This is an insult! A mockery of my genius! Don’t you dare, boy! Make the wall bleed fire!”

Courtier: “Silence. The performance must be flawless. He must believe we are a non-threat. Falter. Look strained. And most importantly… fail.”

Ray followed the advice of the Scheming Courtier. He closed his eyes, his face scrunching up in a mask of intense, childish concentration . He held out his hand, deliberately making it tremble . He fumbled the simple somatic gestures for a Fire Bolt, his breathing becoming theatrical and strained .

Sergeant Svane watched, his stoic face a perfect mask. Inside, his mind was sharp.

What… is this? The fluke? This is a child’s parlor trick. The golden fire I saw… that was a potential weapon of war. This is a performance. He’s deliberately hiding his strength. …Understood. My Lord is running a counter-intelligence operation. I will remain silent.

Ray chanted the incantation, his voice cracking. A tiny, pathetic, orange flicker pointedly not his true white or golden fire, sputtered from his fingertips . It traveled about three feet, wavered in the air like a dying candle, and went out with a sad, damp FWOOMP .

To complete the performance, Ray stumbled back a step, panting heavily as if he’d just run a mile . He wiped fake sweat from his brow.

“I… I’m sorry, Master Zipkin,”

he panted.

“It’s… it’s harder than it looks. I can’t always… control it.”

Ray expected disappointment, or perhaps a condescending critique . Instead, from his stool, Caleb Zipkin gave a single, slow, lazy clap .

“Nice,”

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Caleb drawled, his voice devoid of all energy.

“You made a fire. And it was orange. That’s a color. My work here is done.”

He pushed himself off the stool, the legs scraping loudly, and started shuffling toward the door, clearly intending to leave.

A triumphant, silent notification bloomed in Ray’s mind.

[SKILLED APPLICATION DETECTED]

[EVENT: STRATEGIC DECEPTION (PERFORMANCE OF WEAKNESS)]

[PERFORMANCE EVALUATION: INSPIRED]

[ANALYSIS: Host successfully and deliberately performed a ‘Crude’ level execution of a Mana Weaving skill. This was synthesized with a flawless Performance (Acting within Acting) to project an identity of ‘weakness’ and ‘instability.’ The target, a high-level (6th-Circle) master, was completely deceived, validating the performance as a total strategic success. This act of “perfect failure” is a masterful display of control and deception. Largest Mastery Gain awarded.]

[MASTERY GAIN: Performance (Acting within Acting) +20% (CAPSTONE already reached, adding half of mastery gain to the next archetype skill ‘Lie Detection (Body Language)’), Persona Crafting +15%, Mana Weaving +10%]

[INSPIRED RESULT: Your success in deliberately suppressing your magical signature to mimic a ‘fluke’ has unlocked a new Innate Skill: Aura Suppression (Basic). You can now consciously dampen your Aetheric and Mana signatures to appear less threatening or magically inert to observers.]

Caleb, already halfway out the door, gave a lazy wave without looking back, clearly intending to leave for good .

Ray was horrified . His performance of pathetic weakness had been too successful. His new tutor, so convinced that Ray was a hopeless, non-ambitious case, was not just failing to teach him, he was abandoning his post after a single, five-minute lesson. This was a disaster. His entire plan to use these ‘remedial lessons’ as a quiet, sanctioned cover to secretly master his real magic was now in ruins.

“Wait!”

Ray called out, his voice sharp with a genuine panic that was not part of any performance.

“Master Zipkin! That’s it? That’s the whole lesson?”

Caleb turned, his hand on the doorknob, his expression one of genuine, lazy surprise .

“What more do you want? You have mana affinity. You made a fire. That’s the control part. The foundational part is… well, you found it.”

He gave a small shrug.

“Seems to me, you’ve passed Foundational Mana Control 101. Congratulations.”

He turned to leave again. Ray’s mind went into overdrive.

Courtier: “This is a disaster! He’s abandoning his post! If he reports to Headmaster Andrade that we are this hopeless, she might decide we are not worth cultivating! We lose our value! We lose our protection! This is a catastrophic failure!”

Ray was forced to make a 180-degree turn in his performance. He had to pivot from pathetic fluke to an eager, ambitious student, a role he knew Caleb would hate.

“But Master!”

Ray cried out, rushing forward, his voice now filled with a desperate, ambitious energy.

“I want to learn more! I want to make it stronger! You’re my tutor! You have to teach me! Please!”

Caleb looked down at Ray’s eager, upturned, ambitious face. He didn’t look impressed. He didn’t look angry. He just looked… profoundly tired.

He let out a massive, soul-deep yawn and gently patted Ray on his golden-haired head .

“Kid…”

Caleb said, his voice full of a lazy, almost pitying wisdom.

“Here’s your first real lesson. Ambition? …It’s exhausting.”

He turned and shuffled out of the practice chamber, his leather sandals scuffing the floor.

“Take a nap.”

The door clicked shut, leaving Ray, Rina, and Sergeant Svane in stunned, absolute silence.

Later that day, Ray’s allies arrived at the Spire of Sages. He was still fuming from his failed lesson. His internal committee was in a state of open revolt over Caleb Zipkin.

Weaver: “A disaster! An insult! We perform a perfect failure and the lazy fool believes us! Now our cover is useless!”

Conman: “He’s walking! The mark is walking away from the table! This is bad, kid, BAD! A good con is supposed to keep them ‘interested,’ not put them to sleep! You gotta rope him back in!”

Courtier: “Worse, he’s abandoning his post. If he reports to Andrade that we are hopeless, she might decide we are not worth cultivating. We will lose our strategic value!”

The knock on the door was a welcome interruption. Rina, sensing his mood, quietly showed Eliza and Cassian into the study. They arrived ready to work, their arms full of notes.

“Alright, if we’re going to get you two promoted, you need to understand what you’re facing,”

Cassian said, getting straight to business. He spread a sheet of parchment on the desk.

“The Promotion Trials are a three-part ordeal, just like the entrance exams. They test the whole capabilities of the students.”

He pointed to the first item.

“One: The Thesis. A written and oral defense of an academic topic. Eliza, with your analysis, you’ll ace this. Ray, with your research… This is your home turf. I’m not worried about this part for either of you.”

He moved to the next point.

“Two: The Practicals. This is a one-on-one demonstration of skill. There are a lot of choices, but the highest scores come from the highest risk. You can duel a bonafide 1st Rank Bronze Aegis, or you can face a 2nd-Circle Apprentice proctor in a magical duel. There are other, safer choices, like demonstrating an alchemical formula or a runic inscription, but they won’t get you the top scores.”

He looked at them pointedly.

“Eliza, you’ve got a sharp offense, but you’ll need a credible defensive strategy. And Ray…”

He paused,

“Your… new fire mana affinity and being able to cast the Fire Bolt cantrip easily is a great start, but you’ll have trouble on this part. We need to make sure your control is flawless. But that’s why we’re here. We’ll improve on those weaknesses.”

“And third,”

Cassian said, his voice becoming grave,

“The Scenario. This is the one that really matters. It’s a team-based test. They’ll put you in a squad, lock you in a sealed ruin or a complex illusionary dungeon, and give you an objective. Disarm a trap, retrieve an artifact, negotiate with a hostile entity… anything. It tests leadership, teamwork, and problem-solving under extreme pressure. A huge chunk of your final score is determined by how well your team performs.”

As he finished, Rina, who had been standing by with quiet confidence, stepped forward.

“I’ve already been gathering data,”

she said, her new role as an intelligence operative sitting on her as comfortably as a glove.

“I’ll use my connections with the staff to get the duty rosters for the practical proctors. And I’ll listen to any whispers about this year’s ‘Scenario’ theme.”

Ray looked at his small, dedicated team, and the full scope of his new dilemma crashed down on him. He was fighting a two-front war .

Courtier: “We must find a way to motivate that lazy oaf, Caleb Zipkin, to actually show up and teach us. It’s the only way to create a plausible narrative for Headmaster Andrade, to explain how our weak fluke magically improves enough to even attempt the trials.”

Veteran: “We must simultaneously train in secret to dominate these public trials. We need that stipend, and we need the public rank. We can’t be an anomaly forever.”

The frustration with Caleb vanished, replaced by a cold, absolute focus . He looked at his friends, his gaze sharp and determined.

“Alright,”

Ray said, his voice cutting through the quiet of the study.

“Let’s get to work. Cassian, tell us everything you know about the ‘Scenario.’”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep