Test

Hangul Academy for Valuable Talents.

Black towers rose like the castle of a demon king.

Two dragon statues held the gate shut.

One was red. The other, green.

Fire and healing.

The abilities most preserved by the academy were those that protected others from death—and those that caused the greatest destruction.

A green lawn stretched toward a crystal-clear fountain. From there, paved paths branched out, leading to the academy’s many facilities.

Facing such grandeur, I couldn’t help but feel surprised.

The first-year evaluation always took place on the very first day.

Since students only needed money to enroll, they were required to prove their worth from the start. Those who performed poorly early on were expelled by the end of the year.

Even if someone performed well at the beginning but failed the final evaluations, they would still be expelled.

I looked at Helene as she headed down one of the paths.

She stopped beside the fountain and waved goodbye.

“Good luck on your test. I forgot it was on the first day.”

“I don’t need luck.”

“I know. My little brother is very strong, hehe.”

I felt a shiver at that laugh and turned away, searching for where I was supposed to go.

It didn’t take long to find it—an expansive, open area.

A place that was simple, yet complex.

The field looked empty, but it was clearly packed with traps.

Students began arriving one by one.

An instructor leaped forward from the crowd and slammed her sword into the ground.

A black wave spiraled outward, carving a cavity into the earth. From that hollow, a massive rock was violently expelled upward.

I didn’t understand how she did it.

It was as if she had opened a hole down to where the rock once rested, then pulled it up with her sword—like a cord yanking it free—at a speed that made the ground tremble.

The instructor sat down.

“My name is Yè Rèn. You may simply call me Instructor Rèn. I will be your fencing instructor this year. So don’t worry— even the weakest among you will become strong.”

Her gaze swept across the silent students.

“I don’t know how many of you have realized this already, but the test has begun. This field contains numerous traps controlled by another instructor. Your objective is to escape while simultaneously evading my attacks.”

The sword in her hands bore black patterns.

From its blade, hummingbirds formed of pure darkness began to emerge.

“Starting now, I’ll be using minimal force. My dark hummingbirds will multiply rapidly, but the injuries they cause will be minor. I repeat—don’t worry.”

“Begin.”

Rèn initiated the test.

I dodged a hummingbird that rushed toward me.

Its wings halted midair—then it exploded, hurling me into the ground.

Thud.

My face slammed into the dirt.

I had dodged it, but the attack lingered above me before detonating.

I hadn’t expected that.

I rose quickly, leapt onto another hummingbird, and this time was thrown upward.

An arrow flew past my face. I rolled across the ground as spikes erupted beneath me.

I knew where some of the traps were—but those hummingbirds of dark aura were turning the entire field into chaos.

I saw a girl being hurled away, yet her sword traced a path through the air, dragging her body along that line.

Today, I was witnessing many different aura techniques.

This was a good opportunity to refine my own.

I drew my sword, and black dragons began to form.

I called them black dragons, though in truth they were an extremely deep blue—so dark that under certain lighting they appeared completely black.

The aura concentration required to use them was immense, but the payoff was worth it.

I shaped them into a spiraling formation around me.

Explosions shook my aura. I tightened my grip on the blade.

The force of the sword and the aura spinning at terrifying speeds nearly made me nauseous.

I endured it and advanced step by step.

The boundary marking the exit lay directly ahead.

A shadow phoenix descended and brushed against the dragons.

They dissolved at the slightest touch.

I jumped back instantly.

I watched other students manifest their aura forms.

One boy slid across his own aura to gain speed.

Another formed a turtle-like shell.

It was fascinating how diversely aura could be applied.

Reaching even a single stable form was extremely difficult.

Multiple forms were possible—but far harder.

It was far better to reach the pinnacle with a single form—one adaptable enough to serve multiple purposes.

I looked at the instructor.

Her posture was relaxed, but cold sweat trickled down her cheeks.

There was only one shadow phoenix.

That meant she had created it specifically for me.

Whether it was because of my talent or something else, I didn’t know.

Another possibility was that it had been designed to stop whoever reached the exit first.

I didn’t know—and I didn’t care.

I was going to destroy that phoenix.

I thought about the hummingbirds.

They could obscure vision through sheer numbers, act as distractions, and still carry significant firepower. Considering the instructor was limiting their strength, they were clearly dangerous enough.

They also exerted field control.

I looked at my filthy clothes.

I’d been thrown around without much chance to respond.

The phoenix advanced toward me.

This thing can’t be that strong.

I dashed forward.

Its shadow claws touched my sword—my aura wavered.

I had noticed it earlier when it brushed against my dragons.

It likely suppressed other auras using one of greater power.

I spun my sword and drove it into the ground, using the momentum to launch myself toward the phoenix’s face.

Its face distorted and split open just before my feet reached it.

Then it snapped shut.