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Chapter 4 - The First Trial

The morning air was heavy with anticipation.

All the new initiates gathered in the Academy's outer courtyard, more than a hundred of us in neat rows. Banners flapped overhead, marked with the sigil of Arcanum Academy—a blazing silver star encircled by runes.

At the podium, a line of professors stood grim and imposing. At their head was Professor Halvik, whose voice rolled like thunder when he spoke.

"Today marks your first trial. We will measure not your book learning, but your ability to adapt, survive, and fight as a mage. Some of you will triumph. Others will leave in shame."

The crowd shifted nervously. My stomach tightened. I knew exactly what this meant: The Initiation Exam—a battle-royale styled nightmare that chewed up weaklings and spat them out.

Professor Halvik raised a parchment scroll. "Teams have been assigned. Hear your names."

One by one, he read off groups of five. Each time, students groaned or cheered depending on who they got stuck with. Nobles tried to stand tall, commoners shuffled awkwardly.

When my name came, my fate was sealed:

"Team Thirty-Two: Rowan Ashvale. Lira Mendel. Dain Corvath. Jerric Holt. Alden Faercrest."

I blinked. Ashvale—that was the "orphan" surname they'd branded me with. How convenient.

I turned to size up my companions.

Lira: A wiry girl with dirt still under her nails, eyes darting everywhere like a cornered rabbit.

Dain: Broad-shouldered, nervous, probably grew up swinging a hammer instead of casting spells.

Jerric: Scrawny, coughing into his sleeve, already sweating bullets.

Alden Faercrest: The noble. Golden hair, polished boots, sneer firmly attached. He carried himself like the gods had sculpted the world just for him.

Great. Three terrified commoners and one overconfident brat.

Once all names were read, the professors marched us to the Gate of Trials, a massive stone arch engraved with runes. The moment we stepped through, the world warped.

When the blinding light faded, we stood in a vast illusory battlefield—a domain of forests, cliffs, and rivers stretching farther than the eye could see. A conjured sky hung overhead, sunlight too sharp to be real.

Professor Halvik's voice thundered from nowhere and everywhere at once:

"Defeat rival teams. Survive until the hourglass empties. Fall, and you will be expelled."

Then silence. Only the whisper of leaves.

The exam had begun.

Alden immediately unsheathed his wand, chin high. "Strategy is simple—we attack first and crush the nearest team. Strike before they strike us."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "You have no idea who's nearby. Could be a team stacked with prodigies. You'll get us killed."

He glared. "And what would a peasant orphan know of strategy?"

I met his gaze evenly. "Enough to keep us alive."

The commoners looked between us. Dain muttered, "Maybe… maybe Rowan's right. Shouldn't we, uh, play it safe?"

Alden scoffed but waved dismissively. "Fine. Hide in the bushes if you want. I'll win this myself."

Perfect. Stay arrogant. I'll use you as a shield when things get bad.

We moved into the treeline. While the others stumbled through the underbrush, I let my mind run.

Every inch of this battlefield was familiar. In the game, I'd run it dozens of times. Every herb spawn, monster nest, and treasure chest. I knew them all.

And I knew something else: this wasn't just about raw power. This was about knowledge.

Mana costs, cast times, cooldowns, range limitations. Every class in this Academy follows the same rules as the game. And I know every one of them.

It didn't take long before fate tested me.

The crack of branches snapped through the air. Then came the whoosh of flame—too fast.

"Down!" I barked, shoving Jerric aside as a fireball screamed past and exploded against a tree, showering sparks.

Five figures emerged from the brush. Another team. Their crests marked them as Team Eleven, and their formation told me everything:

Frontline Shieldbearer with reinforced barrier magic.

Two Elementalists, fire and ice.

A Support Healer in the back.

One Scout Rogue, dual daggers already gleaming.

The game knowledge clicked instantly in my head.

Elementalist Fireball: 2.5-second cast, 8-second cooldown.Ice Lance: 1.8-second cast, 5-second cooldown.Rogue Dash: 6-second recharge.Shieldbearer Barrier: cracks after sustained hits, 12-second reset.

I didn't even need to think. My body moved before panic could set in.

Alden stepped forward arrogantly, raising his wand. "Stand aside. I'll—"

"Cover!" I snapped. He ignored me.

The fireball came. I yanked a branch from the ground and hurled it at his shoulder, knocking him off balance just in time. The spell scorched the dirt where he'd stood.

His face twisted. "You—!"

"Shut up and stay alive."

The rogue dashed at us, blades flashing. I grabbed a stone, timed it perfectly, and lobbed it at his feet. He staggered half a step—just enough.

"Dain, swing now!" I barked.

The broad-shouldered commoner, more instinct than skill, swung his staff like a club. It cracked across the rogue's jaw, sending him sprawling unconscious. Badge glowing red: eliminated.

One down.

The shieldbearer advanced, barrier glowing. The fire mage raised another cast, ice mage chanting in tandem.

I didn't let them.

"Lira, throw dirt—now!"

Startled, the girl obeyed, scooping and flinging a fistful of soil. It struck the ice mage's face mid-chant, interrupting the spell. She gasped, focus broken.

I was already moving. My mana circulated through the cultivation rhythm I'd practiced, flowing steady as a river. I gathered the tiniest spark at my fingertips and released a compressed bolt.

Not strong. Not flashy. But accurate.

It struck the fire mage's wrist just as he loosed his fireball. The shot went wild, detonating against the shieldbearer's barrier. The glow cracked violently and shattered.

That was the opening.

I surged forward, ignoring Alden's shouted protests. I weaved through the scattered flames, plucked a vine from the ground, and looped it around the shieldbearer's legs. A sharp tug, a stumble, and my heel slammed into his chest. He crashed to the ground, barrierless, his badge glowing red.

Two down.

The healer panicked, fumbling a chant. I knew the skill: Healing Light. 3-second channel. Interruptible.

I closed the distance in two heartbeats. My hand clamped over his mouth. A jab to his gut stole the air from his lungs. He slumped, badge flashing red.

Three down.

The remaining ice mage raised trembling hands, eyes wide as she realized she was alone.

Her chant stuttered, and she tried to flee.

I didn't even need to touch her. I timed her footsteps, picked up a stone, and hurled it at the exact moment she leapt over a root. The rock cracked against her temple. She crumpled.

Four down. Team Eleven: eliminated.

Silence.

I stood over their unconscious forms, chest heaving but steady, mana still flowing smoothly through my cultivated rhythm.

Behind me, my teammates gaped. Even Alden had lost his sneer, staring at me like I'd just sprouted horns.

"You… you took out a whole team," Dain whispered.

I adjusted my hood, pulling it low to shadow my eyes. "They underestimated us. That's all."

But inside, my heart thudded.

This is the edge I have. Not talent. Not bloodline. Knowledge.

And if I used it wisely, I could survive this academy.

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