I woke up in the morning when Rufus, the academy's caretaker, suddenly burst into my room, slamming the door against the wall. He was accompanied by two guards—mages I didn't recognize.
"Get up, non-mage," he ordered in a harsh tone. "We're taking you to the exam."
Still groggy with sleep, I rose from my shabby bed.
"All right, but the exam hasn't started yet," I said, noticing that dawn had barely broken. "I think there's still an hour to go. I'll come on my own after I wash my face."
"The Dean wants you present in the hall earlier," he barked. "And we're here to make sure you don't get lost in the hallways. Your presence is of utmost importance," he added with a grin. "Few students have enjoyed as much... popularity as you."
He signaled to the two mages with him, and they each grabbed one of my arms. Without waiting for me to stand, they dragged me roughly toward the door—like two prison guards hauling off a defiant prisoner. Rufus followed close behind.
At the end of the main corridor, they released their grip but kept escorting me. I glanced down the hallway and stopped, stunned: lining the walls were many of the academy's students. They had come just to see me!
"The gods are merciful—finally rid of the non-mage!" I heard one of them shout.
"What a loss!" another jeered. "One less mage, one more slave!"
"I wonder where they'll send him into slavery?" a voice was heard. "I hope to clean the public sewers."
"Quiet!" a young man laughed. "He'll show us how he makes coins vanish from pockets. That's the only magic he's good at!"
I started walking as quickly as I could, but soon it became hard to move forward. Groups of students blocked my path. The mages behind me shoved me a few times, thinking I was moving too slowly.
We entered the academy's amphitheater, and I sat on a bench near the podium. I immediately noticed the room was far more crowded than usual. Of course, Doric was in the front row, glaring at me defiantly. He raised his hands above his head and clapped mockingly. The noise in the hall was too loud to make out what he was yelling, but it was certainly nothing flattering.
A few rows back, I saw Elesya. She was staring at the podium with a serious yet bored expression. She didn't seem too concerned about my fate. When she noticed I was looking at her, she quickly turned her gaze away.
"Stand up, mutt," Rufus hissed, slapping my hand with the tail of his whip. "The Dean is going to speak about you. Stand up so everyone can see you."
I rose like a man condemned, awaiting his sentence in the defendant's box. From his podium, the Dean raised his right hand, perfectly straight, and the room immediately fell silent. Then he began to speak:
"Honored colleagues, dear students," the Dean began, "the Wyrmlithus Academy of Magic is a place of excellence and prestige—a place where, for centuries, honor, dignity, and the highest standards of academic training have converged."
"Today," he continued, "we face a special case—one that requires not only our full attention but also a swift and decisive judgment. Let me be clear: we will never tolerate the presence of a non-mage within the walls of this Academy. Should such a specimen ever manage to slip in among us, except in the role of slave, rest assured it will be discovered and swiftly removed. We cannot allow the impeccable image of our institution to be tarnished."
After a short pause, the Dean pointed at me.
"This student has benefited greatly from the hospitality of Wyrmlithus Academy! Though he has not paid his tuition, he has enjoyed the finest conditions to study the secrets of magic under the Wise Masters who generously share their knowledge with us every day. If this student fails, let the gods bear witness that we did everything in our power to make him a true mage. In our generosity, we provided him with food, clothing, and shelter, and access to all magical knowledge available—including lectures by renowned professors in the Magical Arts."
"The time has come for this student to prove his magical abilities. He must now perform three simple spells as a test of his skills. If he passes the exam—and more importantly, pays his fee—he may remain and continue his studies. If he fails, then with deep regret, we will be forced to remove him from our ranks. Naturally, in such a case, the Academy will seek to recover the expenses incurred in educating him for half a school year."
A wave of cheers erupted throughout the hall. Screams, whistles, and laughter mingled with thunderous applause.
"He's finished! We're rid of the non-mage!" several voices shouted from the enthusiastic crowd. They were as jubilant as football fans celebrating a championship victory.
The noise lasted several minutes before subsiding. With a wave of his hand, the Dean signaled for me to approach the examination table, where three of the Academy's most important professors sat.
Neatly arranged on the table were numerous objects the students could use to test their magical abilities—jars of various powders, chalices, crystals, ritual daggers, bronze discs engraved with occult symbols, and even a balance scale whose use I couldn't guess.
The first spell I chose was to evaporate water from a bowl. Normally, the evaporation process should take a few minutes, but for me, the spell worked much faster. Holding the slip of paper in my palm, I mentally recited the name of the spell while keeping my eyes fixed on the bowl.
Under the astonished gaze of the professors, the water began to bubble as if I had dropped an effervescent aspirin tablet into it. In less than ten seconds, all the water in the bowl had evaporated, leaving it shiny and perfectly dry. Murmurs erupted in the room.
"That's impossible!" someone shouted.
"The non-mage is trying to trick us!" yelled another.
"He's cheating!" another voice was heard. "He must have put something hot under the bowl."
It was the blond-haired Doric, who had taken a seat in the front row to better see what I was doing.
Two professors came closer and examined the bowl carefully, casting suspicious glances at me.
"No, he didn't put anything hot," said one of them. "Proceed to the next spell."
The second attempt was even more spectacular. This time, I had chosen a Separation Spell. Carefully, I poured onto the table a pile of poppy seeds mixed with sesame seeds from a jar.
"As you can see, I've mixed two types of very tiny seeds. Now, I will need a special spell that requires a great deal of precision. It's difficult for a mage to move such small objects. However, I will now demonstrate that I can separate the seeds in just a few seconds."
As soon as I finished speaking, I triggered the separation spell. The poppy seeds immediately shifted, as if drawn by a magnet. In just a few moments, two separate piles had formed.
The murmurs in the room erupted again, louder than before.
"How does he do that? It would take us at least a quarter of an hour."
"He really is a powerful mage."
"He's cheating!" Doric shouted again. "There must be a real mage helping him from behind the scenes! There's no way he can cast a spell like that on his own. If he could, he would've done it long ago!"
Ignoring his words, I proceeded with the third spell.
"Look at this Ritual Sword that has been lying forgotten in the Academy's junk storage. It's so rusted and damaged that even the best restorers wouldn't dare touch it. See? The handle is nearly falling off."
As I spoke, I waved the sword in front of their eyes. Then, I mentally invoked one of the spells from Vabazon's book. The Restoration Spell took no more than a second, and the rusted object was replaced with a gleaming ritual sword, as if it had just come out of the blacksmith's forge.
The crowd murmured in awe.
"He's deceiving us!" Doric screamed hysterically. "Make him cast a spell no one's ever done before! He has to be getting help!"
I raised my hand to quiet the hall and, fixing my eyes on Doric, I began to speak again:
"Now, if you'll allow me, I'd like to try a fourth spell. Naturally, I know three spells are enough to pass the exam, but I want to prove how much I've learned under the guidance of the Wise Masters who share their magnificent knowledge with us each day."
All the professors stared at me, unsure if I was mocking them.
I made the sword levitate and, moving it swiftly through the air, brought it close to Doric's nose.
"Does anyone still dare say I'm a non-mage? Or that there's some hidden mage helping me behind the scenes? I challenge anyone who believes that to come up here and control the sword as I am now. Anyone brave enough? Perhaps you, Doric?"
A heavy silence fell over the entire room.
"Answer me, Doric. Name one mage in this Academy who can do this. I'm waiting."
I sent the sword flying above his head, slicing a few strands of hair with the blade. Doric turned pale and sank lower into his seat. A quick glance around the room showed me that nearly everyone was stunned. No one had ever attempted such complex spells within the Academy walls.
"Or maybe you, Rufus, have something to add? Do you still claim I'm a non-mage? Maybe you're right. But if a so-called non-mage like me can move a sword through the air, I wonder what a true mage could do. Care to show us, Rufus?"
As I spoke, I directed the flying sword through the air and smacked Rufus hard on the hand with the handle, causing him to drop his whip. The caretaker let out a yelp of fright and quickly fled the room, sensing that if he stayed any longer, far worse might befall him.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Elesya watching me intently, likely intrigued by the powers I had apparently gained overnight. I admit, I would have been a bit stunned in her place too.
I once again raised the sword into the air above the crowded hall and spun it menacingly as I spoke:
"If you're still not convinced of my magical abilities, I can give you another demonstration. One that will convince you… permanently," I added with a hint of menace.
The room began to stir with uneasy murmurs, but the dean's voice rose above the crowd:
"Dear students, as I've stated before, we will never tolerate non-mages among us! And we don't have any! This student, Sam, has proven he possesses magical abilities far beyond what is expected at his age. Of course, we must not forget that this achievement is not only the student's doing, but also a result of the environment fostered by our Academy."
The dean paused for a moment to sip from a glass of amber liquid, then continued:
"Here at Wyrmlithus, we take pride in our programs, the resources we offer our students, and, of course, the dedication and expertise of our teaching staff. A nurturing environment, both personal and professional, has been crucial to this success. I would like to emphasize our fundamental contribution, without which these accomplishments would not have been possible."
"So, while we celebrate Sam's success, let us not forget to also praise ourselves for our tireless work. We all have reason to be proud—teachers, students, and administration alike. We each played a role in this story of success."
One of the professors—the same one who had chased me away from my first magic lesson—interjected:
"Wait! Mr. Dean," she began sweetly, her voice syrupy and insincere, "I would like to suggest we give this student a few moments to speak. Until now, he showed no sign of brilliance, I might say. And now, suddenly, he is capable of the most astonishing spells. I would like him to explain this sudden transformation. I'm sure the other students have much to learn from such a remarkable turnaround."
The dean nodded and gestured for me to approach the podium.
"Esteemed professors and colleagues," I began, "when I first came to the Academy, I encountered serious difficulties in my magic lessons. Even the most basic spells were impossible for me. My classmates may recall that I couldn't even manage the first spell in the beginner's manual—the coin toss. For a short while, I feared I might actually be a non-mage. You know, those rare cases where a child is born without magical talent, even if both parents are mages," I said, glancing in Elesya's direction.
Elesya looked away quickly, clearly uncomfortable.
"Fortunately, both professors and classmates showed great understanding of my unique situation and helped me tremendously with their support. I'm sure you're all wondering how I managed such a dramatic improvement."
I paused briefly before continuing.
"The answer is simple," I explained. "I was, of course, a mage all along, but I had a block that prevented me from using my powers. On the night before the exam, I had a dream in which the spirit of Hermes Trismegistus appeared to me. He told me he would be my new master and teach me the secrets of alchemy."
I saw the professors' eyes widen when I mentioned Trismegistus. In their world, he was a godlike figure.
"My master told me I had immense power, but I couldn't use it because of my arrogance. All my previous humiliations were simply lessons. I am grateful that within the walls of this Academy I learned humility—otherwise, I wouldn't have achieved the results I have today. Now that my magical powers have been unlocked, I no longer struggle with spell casting. Still, my master warned me to use my abilities sparingly, only when absolutely necessary. If I fall again into the trap of arrogance, I will become as powerless as a non-mage once more."
It was the most ridiculous explanation I could invent, but the people in the room believed it instantly. I don't remember who said it, but someone once noted: the more outrageous a lie, the more likely it is to be believed.
"Do you have anything else to say?" I concluded. "If not, I believe I've passed the exam."
On the way back, no one dared to bother me. I returned to my room and lay down on the bed, exhausted. I wanted to sleep—but I couldn't.