Down on the arena floor, the silence broke. A murmur started in the lower tiers and swept up through the stands.

“Did you see the crystal on his hand?”

“He didn’t even say the incantation for the lightning. The glove did it.”

“It’s the Engineer. The guy from the thesis. He wasn’t lying.”

The narrative Ray had planted in the morning had taken root. They didn’t see a powerful mage; they saw a brilliant inventor. They feared the gear, not the boy.

Conman: “Hook, line, and sinker. They’re buying the prop. You could cast a meteor swarm now, and they’d ask where to buy the batteries.”

The Head Judge’s magically amplified voice boomed out.

“Winner: Initiate Croft. Points deducted points for excessive reliance on alchemical aids and non-traditional focus. However, efficiency and neutralization are confirmed. High Pass.”

Ray bowed to the judges, accepting the points deduction with a humble nod. It was perfect. A perfect score would have drawn suspicion; a flawed high score confirmed he was talented but ‘unorthodox.’

He walked off the platform, passing Eliza Vance, who was waiting in the tunnel for her turn.

“Showoff.”

She whispered, grinning as she passed him.

Ray stopped to watch. Eliza’s duel was less theatrical but no less impressive. She faced a 2nd-Circle specialist in illusion magic. Where Ray had used tools and speed, Eliza used pure, cold strategy.

She didn’t chase the illusions. She cast Ray of Frost repeatedly at the floor, creating a slick, hazardous sheet of ice across the center of the ring. She watched the feet. The illusions glided over the surface without weight, but the real mage had to adjust his footing to keep his balance.

When she spotted the hesitation, she didn’t need a wall to trap him. She cast the 1st-Circle spell Magic Missile. Three glowing darts of force curved around the illusions and slammed into the real mage, knocking him flat onto the ice she had created. Before he could scramble up, she had another volley ready, hovering over him. He yielded out of sheer frustration.

It took ten minutes longer than Ray’s fight, but it was a clinical dissection of her opponent. She walked off the field with her head high, her parents in the stands cheering loudly enough to embarrass her.

Ray looked up at the balcony one last time. Headmaster Andrade was still there. She wasn’t looking at the scoreboard. She was looking directly at him.

She gave a single, slow nod.

It worked,she accepted the cover story. She thinks I’m a clever inventor, not a rejuvenated powerhouse.

Ray thought.

The Registrar’s voice cut through the arena, signaling the end of the individual trials.

“The Practicals have concluded!”

The gates at the far end of the arena groaned open, revealing a dark, mist-filled tunnel leading deep into the academy’s understructure.

“All qualified Initiates, report to the Staging Area immediately.”

Ray turned to Eliza, who had joined him at the gate.

“Team Chimera,”

Ray said, testing the name. He adjusted his glove.

“Let’s go see what the First Sage left for us.”

The transition from the sun-drenched arena to the tunnels beneath the academy was like stepping into a tomb. The roar of the crowd was cut off instantly by heavy iron doors, replaced by the dripping of condensation and the sharp, static smell of ozone and ancient stone.

“It’s quiet,”

Eliza whispered, her voice tight. She adjusted the strap of her satchel, her eyes darting to the few other squads walking ahead of them.

“Too quiet. I got used to Cassian’s presence where he is always panicking about anything.”

“He did his part,”

Ray said, his voice calm in the gloom.

“He has trained us and helped us prepare. Now we do our part. Remember the strategy. The Switch. We confuse the reflection. Don’t let it predict you.”

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“I know,”

Eliza said, though she gripped her staff tightly.

“I just hope the Mirror doesn’t have a sense of humor.”

They reached the end of the tunnel, emerging into a colossal, circular Staging Chamber. It was a space designed to hold an army, vast and echoing, but as they stepped inside, the first thing that struck them was the emptiness.

Scattered across the stone floor in loose, nervous clusters were the survivors of the Practicals.

Ray scanned the room. He saw bruised faces, scorched robes, and dented armor. He saw students leaning against pillars for support, exhausted from their duels. But mostly, he saw how few of them there were.

His Eccentric Scholar persona immediately activated, tallying the heads with cold, mathematical precision.

Scholar: “Seventy four… seventy five. Initial registration for the Promotion Trials exceeded seven hundred applicants. Current headcount represents approximately ten percent of the student body. The attrition rate is staggering. The academy didn’t just filter the weak, they decimated the cohort.”

“There’s… hardly anyone here,”

Eliza whispered, her eyes widening as she did her own mental headcount.

“There were hundreds of us this morning. Did they all fail?”

“The Practicals were a purge,”

Ray noted quietly.

“They aren’t looking for a graduating class. They’re looking for an elite unit.”

The realization settled over the room. The students looked at each other not with rivalry, but with the grim recognition of survivors. They were the top ten percent, and they hadn’t even started the real test yet.

In the center of the room stood the destination: a massive archway filled not with air, but with a shimmering, liquid-silver substance that rippled like mercury. The floor before it was engraved with a complex, glowing teleportation circle.

A proctor in grey robes stood by the circle, holding a slate. He looked at the small group of survivors, his expression unimpressed.

“Team Chimera,”

the proctor called out, his voice echoing in the quiet hall.

Ray and Eliza stepped forward, feeling the weight of seventy other pairs of eyes on them.

“Step into the circle,”

the proctor commanded.

Ray and Eliza stepped onto the glowing runes.

Suddenly, the ambient light in the chamber dimmed. A magical projection amplified a voice that boomed from everywhere and nowhere at once. It was Headmaster Andrade.

“Attention, Initiates.”

Her voice was cold, stripping away any illusion that this was a game.

“You have reached the final and most critical portion of your promotion trials. This is the ‘Scenario.’ What you have demonstrated as individuals is meaningless if it cannot be applied as a team.”

Ray felt a prickle of unease.

Applied as a team.

“In moments, your squad will be transported into a sealed, illusionary dungeon known as the ‘Labyrinth of the First Sage.’ Your objective is singular: Retrieve the Sigil of the First Sage from the central vault and return. You have three hours.”

The circle beneath their feet began to pulse with a faster rhythm.

“Lethal force is not required, nor is it advised,”

Headmaster Andrade continued.

“All constructs within the Labyrinth are non-lethal, and the Arcane Safety Wards woven into the simulation will prevent fatal injury. However, failure is very real. A large portion of your final ranking is determined by this test.”

Then came the twist.

“Do not mistake this for a simple trap-disarming exercise. We are not evaluating your brute force. We are evaluating your leadership, your teamwork under pressure, and your capacity for creative problem-solving. Furthermore, to ensure true adaptability, all under-sized squads will be merged. The minimum operational unit for this Scenario is five.”

Ray’s head snapped up.

“Merged?”

Courtier: “Strategic failure! The two-person ‘switch’ strategy relied on unit cohesion. Introducing three random variables compromises the entire plan!”

“We are observing,”

Andrade’s voice concluded.

“Do not disappoint us. Your trial begins… now.”

The world dissolved in a flash of white light.

The sensation of hook-behind-the-navel teleportation wrenched Ray’s stomach. The light faded, replaced by the dim, torch-lit gloom of a long stone hallway.

Ray blinked, steadying himself. Eliza stumbled slightly beside him, grabbing his arm for balance.

“Five?”

Eliza hissed, her voice low.

“We have to work with three random strangers? That ruins everything!”

“Stay calm,”

Ray murmured.

“Assess the assets. Maybe we’ll get lucky. Maybe we’ll get scholars.”

He looked up. Standing across the hallway, shaking off the disorientation of the teleport, were three figures. They were not scholars.

They were armored in heavy plate, carrying weapons that looked like they could batter down a castle gate.

The central figure straightened, shaking his head. He wore polished silver-trimmed plate armor and carried a massive training mace. It was Darian Varrus.

Flanking him were two hulking brothers, nearly identical in their broad shoulders and dull expressions. They wore the livery of House Ramsey, a subordinate vassal to House Varrus. Kogar Ramsey held a tower shield, and Kima Ramsey hefted a two-handed greatsword.

They were Team SIS. Strength Is Supreme.

Darian blinked, his vision clearing. He looked around, expecting to see his allies or perhaps a worthy rival.

His eyes landed on Ray. Then on Eliza.

The silence in the hallway was absolute for a heartbeat.

“You have got to be joking,”

Darian groaned, his voice echoing off the stone walls.

“I get stuck with the Nursemaid and the Cripple?”

Kogar snorted, banging his shield.

“Bad luck, boss. Looks like we’re carrying dead weight.”

Ray’s internal committee stared at the lineup in horror.

Veteran: “Of all the squads in the academy… we get the bullies. This isn’t a team; it’s a ticking time bomb.”

Detective: “Look at them. They’re already grouping up. Us vs. Them. Leadership test? This is going to be a mutiny before we take the first step.”

Eliza bristled, stepping forward.

“Watch your mouth, Varrus. We passed the same trials you did. Probably with higher scores.”

Darian stepped forward, looming over them, his two lackeys flanking him to create a wall of intimidation.

“Scores don’t matter in a dungeon, Vance,”

Darian sneered.

“Strength matters. And since my squad has the muscle, I’m in charge. You two stay in the back. Don’t touch anything. Don’t talk. And try not to get killed.”

He turned his back on them, gesturing to the Ramsey brothers with his mace.

“Kogar, take point. Kima, rear guard. Let’s find this Sigil and get out of here before the nerds slow us down.”

Ray watched them march down the hall toward the massive archway shimmering with silver liquid.

Scholar: “They are walking straight toward the Refraction Core. They have no idea what it is.”

Conman: “Let ‘em walk. They want to lead? Let them lead right into the trap. We’ll pick up the pieces.”

“Ray,”

Eliza whispered, furious.

“We can’t let him command us. He’s an idiot.”

“I know,”

Ray said quietly, watching Darian’s retreating back.

“But right now, he’s a useful idiot. Let’s see how Team ‘Strength is Supreme’ handles a mirror.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep