One Month Later
Rachel shuffled through the thick stack of papers in her hands, anxiety tightening her chest."Will this be enough? I feel like we weren't thorough enough…"
Naemor placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder."We've done all we can with what we had. Unless we were Tier 4 or higher and had access to more advanced knowledge, we've already reached our ceiling."
Terra walked up behind them."That's all well and good," she said, "but what about the other teams? They've been working just as hard. You really think they're going to pass?"
Naemor sighed, his face more serious than usual."Unfortunately… most of them aren't. This is the first test for a reason—it's the hardest to judge. Intelligence isn't as easy to quantify as strength. And honestly, it's not worth the organization's time to run full diagnostics on mortals from the Wastelands."
Rachel raised an eyebrow."What happens to those who fail?"
Naemor hesitated, then said plainly,"They get their memories wiped. Everything—this place, what they've seen, what they've learned—it all vanishes like it never happened."
"What?!" Terra and Rachel gasped in unison, eyes wide in disbelief.
"You didn't think they'd let a bunch of unqualified nobodies keep access to centuries of collected knowledge, did you?" Naemor continued. "This library contains forgotten knowledge —things that could have been eroded by time or even swept under the rug, not not worry too much, the knowledge here is low-leveled. Even you, if you pass, will only retain what's relevant to your thesis. The rest will fade. It's a protective mechanism. You've absorbed more than you realize, and your minds simply aren't ready to carry it all."
He glanced at their stunned faces and smirked."That's what I would do, at least. There are easier ways, but this one raises fewer red flags."
Terra groaned. "Why do most of them fail?"
"I didn't tell you this before, but now that it's over, I can. This test wasn't really about knowledge. It was about ideas. The Wastelands are behind—technologically, philosophically, especially militarily, but you guys do have some crazy minds. The organization uses mortals to generate new ideas. Sometimes it's science fiction that inspires the next great innovation. These essays are seeds. If your idea is grounded, useful, or historically proven, you pass. If your idea is new and viable? You pass—and you get rewarded."
Rachel narrowed her eyes."So… what gets you disqualified?"
"Easy," Naemor replied. "If your paper is just reworded knowledge from the library, or if your ideas are easily disproven, you fail. And—" he paused—"if your paper is about history, you also fail."
"Why history?"
"Oh, yeah. That knowledge wasn't in the—"
Before he could finish, a door materialized from the air. The silver-haired guide from before stepped out, her red eyes scanning the room.
"Bring forward your papers and receive your grades."
With a wave of her hand, a black table and chair formed in front of her. She sat, back straight, expression unreadable.
One by one, groups and individuals stepped forward, placing their papers into the black box atop the table. Each time, the box pulsed with light—blue for pass, red for fail. When a group passed, she'd nod. When someone failed, she didn't hesitate.
"You pass. Except him," she said to one group, pointing at a boy near the back.
"What? Why?!"
"You barely did any work. Your teammates carried the project—you were basically useless."
"But—!"
Before he could speak again, the guide shot him a glare. He disintegrated on the spot—nothing left but a smear.
Gasps rang out across the room, but the guide was unfazed.
"Next."
The line moved faster after that.
"Pass. Fail. Fail. Pass. Fail."
Then, it was Rachel's turn. Her hands trembled as she placed their paper into the box.
But instead of flashing blue or red, the box pulsed with a dark, eerie glow.
The guide leaned in. Suddenly, a black-cloaked figure appeared beside her. Without a word, it lifted the paper and began flipping through the pages, slowly, deliberately. Terra tried to speak, but the figure raised one hand—and the sound disappeared from her throat.
They read in silence. When finished, the figure placed a black token on the table and vanished.
The guide raised an eyebrow."Looks like you can think outside the box," she said. "That token grants you access to Level 1 of the Organization's Library. You've been on the ground floor this whole time. It also protects you from the memory wipe."
Rachel blinked."So… they really do wipe memories?"
The guide nodded, almost amused."Congratulations. You've proven your minds useful. Even if you fail the other tests, you now qualify for alternative paths—paths for thinkers."
She waved them along. Terra grabbed the token and joined the rest of the passers on the right side of the room.
Rachel leaned toward Naemor."What's on Level 1?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "Even among royal families, very few have access to the inner workings of the Organization."
"But do you know what the next test is?"
Naemor nodded. "It's a test of willpower."
Rachel tilted her head."Wasn't that what the first room was about?"
"No," Naemor replied. "That room was just to test your reason for being here—your honesty with yourself. But the next one? The next one will see what parts of yourself break… and what survives."
In Alaric's Office
The same cloaked figure from the grading hall appeared within the quiet grandeur of Alaric Nihelson's office, kneeling before the man seated behind a darkwood desk carved with ancient runes. The room was dim, save for the soft, steady glow of candles lining the far wall and the pale light leaking through a cracked window.
"Sire," the figure said, voice low and reverent. "An unexpected thesis has surfaced in this round's examinations. The central research teams—the Brains—have confirmed its plausibility."
Alaric raised his head, eyes as cold and calculating as a winter star.
"Show me," he commanded.
The figure stood and extended a single sheet. Alaric took it, leaning back in his chair, the leather creaking softly beneath him. His gaze moved across the title:
Applications of Mana in Physics
A faint frown creased his features.
"I don't understand. We already have an established field of mana-physics. Why was this brought to my desk?"
"It is the thesis statement, my lord. That... and the implications it carries."
Alaric read further. His eyes lingered over the hypothesis.
'What if mana is not a primal essence but a composite energy, made up of unseen particles—particles responsible for the behavior, limitations, and potential of all magical phenomena? What if these particles obey physical laws, and those laws can be bent?'
He went still.
The words on the page gripped something in him. A door he thought long closed creaked open, the old, forbidden dreams crawling back to the surface. He read on, the pace of his breath steady but deep, drawn in like smoke.
"And you're telling me this came from the entrance exams?" he asked at last, voice hushed with both disbelief and a trace of awe.
"Yes, my lord," the figure replied. "Submitted by two mortals... and one royal heir."
Alaric slowly closed the file, gaze distant now, caught in the threads of potential. He flipped back to the cover and read the names aloud.
"Rachel... Terra... and Naemor Elaran Psychis."
A wry smile touched the corner of his lips.
"Interesting. Keep an eye on them. Extend support if they show promise—quietly, of course. If they can be integrated into the advanced research teams, we may finally take a step forward in Project Genesis."
The figure nodded once."As you command."
In the next moment, the cloaked form vanished into the shadows, leaving Alaric alone with the quiet hum of possibility vibrating through the air.
He leaned back further in his chair, eyes drifting to the shelves that surrounded him, each filled with sealed tomes and forbidden theories.
He stared at the flickering candlelight for a long time and whispered under his breath,"If they're right... the world as we know it may change."