"Huu…."
He exhaled softly.
The dissipating mana scattered like breath on a cold morning.
*Strong, I'll give it that.*
He opened and closed his fist. Residual heat still lingered in his knuckles.
The mana of Ink Star.
Denser than ordinary mana. It had weight. Like an iron ball compressed and packed tight.
*Two layers of barrier — with a single Fireball.*
Ohen hadn't been weak, exactly, but not *that* weak.
Normal firepower shouldn't have punched through in one shot.
"…Moretti is Moretti, I suppose."
He raised his head. Leon stood across from him, one leg bearing his weight, angled slightly to the side. Hands in his pockets. Shoulders loose.
Ohen had already vanished, practically crawling back up into the spectator stands.
"Not a complete waste of space, then. This might actually be worth my time."
"Say that after you win."
"The winner is already decided. You think a mere 2nd Circle mage can beat a 3rd Circle?"
2nd Circle.
That was what the world knew of him.
Not anymore, though.
Ink Star — 1st Star.
That was where he actually stood now.
Shu kept saying he'd reach the 2nd Star soon. He'd believe it when he saw it.
"Leon~ do your best!"
"You have to win!"
A cascade of female voices poured down from the stands.
Leon let the cheers wash over him as though they were his natural due.
*What an insufferable bastard.*
Getting cheered on by girls, of all things.
"Hey!"
A flash of red hair from the upper tier of the hall.
"Don't lose! My fiancé…"
The last word crumbled into something small and muffled.
Huana had shouted it before she realized what she was saying. Her face went scarlet in an instant and she ducked her head.
Matyos blinked, momentarily dazed — then gave her a small wave.
Leon let out a derisive snort.
"…Hmph. I almost feel sorry for the princess. Getting her hopes up over nothing."
"You talk a lot. Just come at me."
Leon ground his teeth and shot a look up at Professor Kennedy.
*Get on with it.*
"The match begins."
Professor Kennedy fired a mana flare.
The duel commenced.
Professor Kennedy settled back into his seat, his expression considerably more composed than before.
*Matyos Binna Moretti… truly a Moretti? When I checked his potential before, it read as zero — and yet he just dispatched Ohen without breaking a sweat.*
The thought continued.
*He's more than worth watching. More than worth it — he exceeds it entirely. His mana control is better than I expected. The casting speed, and then the immediate decision to throw a Fireball — the judgment behind it.*
It was a choice that made sense only if he'd correctly assessed his own offensive advantage — and the combat instinct to make that call on the fly.
Professor Kennedy's internal evaluation of Matyos had just been revised upward by a considerable margin.
*But… beating Leon will be another matter. A shame.*
Leon came from a distinguished magical lineage in the Kingdom of Hispanya. Modest compared to Moretti, but a family with genuine pedigree in the arcane arts. Leon was their eldest son — a talent expected to become an exceptional mage.
Pairing Leon against Matyos hadn't been done to humiliate the boy.
Two duels.
The first opponent: a roughly equal match.
The second opponent: a demonstrably superior one.
A single duel told you nothing complete. The real test was how a student carried himself against an equal — and how he carried himself against someone stronger.
Even if Matyos lost, it wouldn't cost him points.
What mattered was *how* he lost. A helpless defeat, or a defeat that showed a flash of brilliance — that distinction would determine his score.
*Show me your best, Matyos.*
The duel began.
Both boys started casting the moment the signal dropped.
Leon was first.
*Whoooosh!*
An enormous Fireball swelled into existence above his palm.
No barrier. Straight through the front.
*Press him immediately.*
The calculation was simple: overwhelm with sheer firepower, cut off any room to breathe.
Against an equal mage, it would be suicidal. But Matyos was a step below Leon.
He could afford to strike first.
*Let's see how you like your own trick used against you.*
There was no more humiliating defeat than that.
Leon poured mana into the Fireball until it bloated with it — a swelling mass of flame that looked ready to incinerate everything in its path as it surged toward Matyos and swallowed him whole.
*BOOM!!*
The explosion rang out, and heat rolled across the hall. The air went dry in an instant.
"Ah—!"
Huana gasped. Her red hair whipped in the shockwave.
Professor Kennedy's safety barrier meant Matyos was in no real danger.
But watching her fiancé engulfed in a roaring wall of flame — that was a different matter entirely.
Leon let the corner of his mouth curl upward. He glanced at Huana, standing there stricken, then looked up at Professor Kennedy.
"It's over, Professor."
Eyes certain of victory.
But Professor Kennedy smiled.
"No. The duel isn't over."
"What?"
*Shhhk!*
A thin black line cut through the heart of the inferno.
Leon's pupils wavered.
He threw up a barrier — fast, desperate.
*Crack!*
The sound of fracturing.
The barrier shattered and scattered like broken glass. The impact drove him backward; he hit the floor hard, palms slapping the ground to catch himself.
Black embers burned in the air directly in front of his face.
Cold sweat ran down his spine.
*If — if the barrier hadn't been there—*
Mages were untouchable at range and utterly fragile up close.
They were always the first target.
The very first thing every combat mage learned was to make barrier-casting instinctive — to drill it until the body reacted before the mind could.
Leon had that reflex. Of course he did.
"Whoa, you alright?"
He stepped out through the smoke.
A translucent black barrier wrapped around his body. Scorch marks slid off its surface.
Matyos extended a hand toward Leon, who was sitting crumpled on the floor.
Leon's face twisted. He shoved himself upright and launched into a cast.
Fireball.
A great column of flame rose into being.
It hurtled toward Matyos.
Matyos leapt — light as a startled deer. The Fireball struck the spot he'd just vacated half a beat too late.
A Strength enhancement. He'd moved fast.
Repositioned, Matyos began casting his own Fireball.
"Don't think so!"
Leon's Fireball was already in the air.
Matyos didn't dodge.
He stared straight into the oncoming flame — and launched his completed black sphere directly at it.
*SHHHHHK!!*
Matyos's black fireball was modest. Compact, like its caster — roughly the size of a baseball, small enough to cup in one hand.
Leon's fireball was large. Roughly the size of a human head.
Anyone watching would have called it hopeless. A foolish choice.
That's how it looked.
But.
*Pop.*
The small black flame punched straight through the massive fireball.
Like an awl splitting through soft fruit, it bored into the center.
The black line flew in a straight trajectory and slammed into Leon's chest.
*CRACK!!*
The protective test barrier shattered into pieces.
Silence.
Leon lay crumpled on the floor, staring up at me.
His mouth hung slightly open.
The face of a man who couldn't believe what he was seeing.
*
"Why do you keep giving me heart attacks like that?!"
The moment the exam ended, Huana came storming over.
Her red hair shook like an angry flame.
"You could have won easily from the start!"
"That wasn't really my plan."
"You did it on purpose to scare me, didn't you?"
"I'm telling you, I didn't."
She glared at me for a moment, then snapped her head to the side.
"…Fine. You won, so I'll let it go."
The corner of her mouth crept upward.
"That look on that insufferable bastard's face. Worth it."
"Oh, right."
"What."
"You said there'd be a reward if I won."
Huana went still.
Her gaze slid away. Her fingers found the hem of her cloak and twisted it for no reason at all.
"…Ah. That."
She was quiet for a moment.
Then, all at once, her face flushed red and she looked away.
"J-just… look forward to it."
She said it in a small voice, barely above a whisper.
"It's something you'll really like."
* * *
Tactical Studies — the exam.
The course was run by Professor Jill, a decorated officer from the Kingdom of Sharlan, and it covered the fundamentals of military command: how to deploy forces, what principles a commander should establish in wartime.
This exam was a war game.
A recreation of an actual historical battle, in which students participated directly to develop their instincts for command.
"The engagement we'll be using is the Battle of Kyrhalstadt. A southeastern imperial plain. A clash between Imperial and Sharlan forces that began around five in the morning — eighty thousand Imperial troops against one hundred thousand from Sharlan."
He brought up the strategic map as he spoke.
"Visibility is reduced by morning fog. Sharlan forces have conducted extensive reconnaissance and have a clear picture of Imperial positions. Combat is imminent. You are the Imperial supreme commander. Use what you've learned in this course to lead your forces to victory."
He snapped his fingers.
A vast tactical map unfolded in the air.
A bird's-eye view of the Kyrhalstadt plain.
Thin fog drifted across it. Somewhere within that haze, the Imperial forces advanced, oblivious. On the far side, hidden beyond the line of sight, Sharlan troops were tightening their ambush and readying their charge.
It was a near-perfect recreation.
"Come forward one at a time to take your exam. The war game controls are the same as what you've practiced."
The students went up in turn.
Each session ran twenty to twenty-five minutes. With three game boards running simultaneously the pace was brisk, but the waiting still felt long.
"Albert. Victory. Imperial casualties: forty thousand. Enemy casualties: fifty thousand. A win, but at severe cost."
"Bernajil. Victory. Imperial casualties: twenty thousand. Enemy casualties: sixty thousand. Still considerable losses."
"Baten. Victory. Imperial casualties: twenty thousand. Enemy casualties: sixty thousand. A meaningful victory."
Professor Jill read out the results without inflection, without commentary.
"Tch… why does everyone take so long. This waiting is tedious."
Franz muttered, arms folded.
"I'd have finished the battle in under ten minutes. Pathetic, the lot of them."
"You have to understand, Franz~ nobody here handles tactics like you do."
"That's right, Senior. You're the only one who could finish this in ten minutes."
The noble students chimed in on cue. The corner of Franz's mouth shifted in a way that was almost imperceptible.
Then Matyos's name was called.
He stepped up to the game board without a word.
He placed his hand on the crystal orb and let mana flow through it. His consciousness sank into the war game.
Someone whispered beside Franz.
"How long do you think he'll take?"
Franz shrugged.
"That one has no military talent. Soft. Timid. Whatever he does, it'll take him thirty minutes."
"Thirty? Isn't that a bit much?"
"No. Thirty minutes. I'll stake my word on it."
The game board was screened behind a curtain — to prevent anyone from watching another student's strategy.
The students stared at the curtain and counted the time.
Ten minutes later.
Before the curtain had even been drawn back, Matyos opened his eyes.
His hand lifted from the crystal orb.
"Wait, he's done already?"
"He won that fast?"
A murmur rippled through the room.
Franz smiled thinly.
"He lost."
"Hm?"
"He was defeated. That's why it ended so quickly. He must have tried something reckless and thrown the battle away."
"Oh — that's what happened?"
"Ten minutes is absurd, after all."
Quiet laughter followed.
Then Professor Jill came walking over — quickly, with a pace that wasn't quite his usual.
His breathing, for once, seemed slightly uneven.
"Matyos. Victory. Imperial casualties… three thousand. Enemy casualties. Seventy thousand…. A perfect victory. Matyos."
Professor Jill's eyes had gone slightly unfocused. The expression of a man who had just confirmed something he couldn't quite believe.
He gripped Matyos by the shoulder — firmly.
"Have you ever considered becoming a great commander?"