The air in Barracks C was thick with nervous energy long before dawn. Despite Finn's optimistic pronouncements of an "all-nighter," sleep had claimed them both sometime past midnight, leaving Eryndor feeling more groggy than rested. The low murmur of anxious whispers and the shuffling of feet began around four bells, well before the first hint of orange touched the eastern sky.
Finn, surprisingly energetic, bounced off his cot. "Alright, Eryndor! This is it! Remember, it's all about what you know. Just stick to the facts, like we went over. No grand theories, just the established lore." He handed Eryndor a stale, hard roll and a small flask of lukewarm water – their "breakfast" rations from the night before.
Eryndor chewed slowly, his stomach a knot of apprehension. The vision of Darius's sneering face and Lyra's authoritative gaze flickered in his mind. Theoretical Aptitude. A test of intellect and study. He had studied, diligently, but the sheer volume of information felt overwhelming, As the first sliver of sunlight pierced the horizon, a series of gongs reverberated across the Outer Quarters, a deep, resonant sound that vibrated through the very ground. It was the summons.
The stream of candidates flowed like a nervous river towards the Academy's main gates. The two colossal obsidian pillars, now gleaming dully in the nascent light, seemed even more imposing. Today, the great archway between them was open.
"You will follow me in an orderly fashion. Silence is expected. Any deviation will be noted." It was kaiden with the girl called Lynn behind him, his gaze swept over them, pausing for a fraction longer on Eryndor, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. Perhaps recognition, perhaps a silent challenge.
They fell into line, a nervous, shuffling column, and Lynn and kaiden led them through the Academy grounds. The sheer scale of the place was breathtaking in the full light of day. Eryndor felt it, a faint prickling on his skin, a sense of immense energy that resonated deeply even in his non-magical self. He wondered how it must feel to those who could truly wield it.
The Great hall was immense, a vast circular hall with towering, arched windows that were already beginning to flood the space with soft, golden light. Tiered rows of stone benches rose up towards a domed ceiling painted with constellations and shifting magical patterns. In the center, a raised dais held a single, ornate lectern, and before it, hundreds of individual desks, each with a runic tablet, were meticulously arranged.
Proctors in their crimson robes stood at intervals, their expressions unreadable. Lynn and kaiden, the senior student from last night, was also present along with other Acranum students who was dressed in their blue wizard robe, standing near the dais, their posture ramrod straight. Kaiden the Acranum president scanned the incoming candidates with a sharp, assessing gaze.
"Candidates, find your assigned seats," the Proctor's voice boomed, the same one who had addressed them the previous night. His voice seemed to fill every corner of the vast chamber without any visible magical amplification.
Eryndor found his seat, a small, cold stone bench with a smooth, grey runic tablet embedded in the desk before him. Finn was a few rows ahead. The air was now thick with anticipation, the only sounds being the rustle of robes and the soft shuffling of feet.
Once everyone was seated, the main Proctor stepped to the lectern. "Welcome, candidates, to the First Trial of Admission: The Theoretical Aptitude Test. This examination will assess your knowledge of the fundamental principles of magic, its history, its various schools, and the properties of its components."
He gestured, and the runic tablets on every desk glowed, the questions appearing simultaneously in shimmering script. Eryndor's heart pulsated nervously behind his chest.
"You will have three hours. There is no talking. No sharing. No magical assistance. Any attempt to cheat will result in immediate disqualification and expulsion. Begin."
Eryndor stared at the first question; "Discuss the chronological evolution of Mana Theory from the First Conflux to the Great Sundering, citing key proponents and their contributions."
He took a deep breath, pushing down the surge of panic. No magic, Eryndor. Just what you can learn and memorize. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, picturing the worn pages of A Comprehensive History of Arcane Philosophy. He recalled the diagrams grandpa had patiently drawn for him on the dirt floor of their house, illustrating the flow of mana through ancient conduits.
His hands, calloused from years of working the land, trembled slightly as he picked up the stylus provided. But as he began to write on the glowing tablet, forming the intricate symbols and long-forgotten names, a collective intake of breath filled the hall, followed by a flurry of activity. All around Eryndor's, pens began to scratch on the runic tablets, not physical pens, but glowing points of light, guided by the mental commands of the candidates.
Tiny sparks of mana flickered around their fingertips as they channeled their thoughts directly into the magical medium. Some closed their eyes in deep concentration, their faces subtly illuminated by the tablet's glow. Others seemed to be rapidly sifting through mental libraries of knowledge, their fingers twitching as if recalling complex spell forms.
Eryndor however, sat still. He had no mana to channel, no magical intuition to guide his thoughts onto the tablet. He had only his mind, his memory, and the plain, unyielding stylus provided. He picked it up, a simple piece of polished wood that felt strangely heavy in his hand.
He began to write, painstakingly, carefully, forming each ancient rune and intricate symbol not with magic, but with pure, deliberate precision. He had to physically trace each line, each curve, pressing the stylus against the smooth surface of the tablet to activate the embedded runes and form the letters. It was slow, laborious work, requiring immense concentration to ensure each symbol was perfectly rendered.
"What is the yong man doing?" One of the proctor who seems to be the leader of the protors mumbles, his eyes filled with anticipation to see the boys results.
"What is he trying to do, he doesn't have any magic nor does he even know anything about histories of magic, he has the audacity to think that he can pass the exams, " a guy among the Acranums sneered with decry.
"Who does he think he is, it's a insult for one without magic to even be admitted here, that's absurd, " another Acranum student whispered to them with mockery in her voice.
"You should all be quiet, instead of underestimating him, you should wait for what will happen next, stop bluffing like some kind of discerning human, you guys were worst than him when we were taking the exams, al least he has some confidence to come here and display his knowledge, now can you shut your lips and let us concentrate, " the blonde female cautioned her voice cold, wara nd soothing. A silence erupted where they stood but it was invaded by the whispers.
"Look at him, isn't he ashamed to be doing that, writing on a sheet of paper, " someone said from behind and scoffed.
"He knew he was powerless why did he take the exams instead of preventing the humiliation and just walk home, what a audacious human, " the whispers of mockery lingered on the air and finn turned his head to where Eryndor sat and stared back at his runic tablet so he wouldn't attract attention.
The time that was projected on the hair clocked, 00:00:00 and all the tablet went blank, Eryndor who has quickly racked his brain, picking key points from what his grandfather has solemnly taught him, he wrote down every details concerning mana evolution, his mind was muddled with the teachings from the past as his hand did the work, writing down every single detail he knew and since this particular exam was not solely concentrating on only magic, the exam was facile for him, he was already done before the time was up.
Eryndor sighs in monumental relief, and his chest that yeiled fear and nervousness in them relaxed , his solemn face now appears with a faint smile and they heard the proctor say, "you are dismissed, prepare for the next exam while we calculate, " the stern voice was heard and they all stood up with screeching sound, stomping and shuffling sound of footsteps as they made their way out of the Great hall.
"Will I get enrolled, with the way everyone belittled and underestimated me it is obvious that I have a lower percent chance of getting admitted, " he mumbled with dismal and melancholy in his voice.