"Headmaster, where have you been? We've been looking for you," asked the boy who had earlier been introduced as the student council president.
"I was checking your report," the old man replied. Anyone who saw him would instantly recognize him as the headmaster, if only from the weight of his presence.
"Ah, you mean about the boy? Was that really necessary?" the student asked, his tone hinting that he felt his judgment was being questioned.
The headmaster sighed. "It's not what you think. Do you remember the barrier magic I used?"
"Yes, sir. I know it was a light barrier."
"Correct. But that detail isn't the important part. There were several types of barriers I could've used for this test, but I chose the light barrier. Do you know why?"
"I don't think I do."
"Because when someone passes through it while coating themselves with mana, I can sense it. I'm the one who cast it, after all."
"Then that should confirm my report. Only one examinee named Colt passed through the barrier today."
"That's the strange part..." The headmaster paused, thinking. "I believe you. But I didn't feel anyone pass through the barrier today."
"What? How's that possible?"
"That's why I went to check myself. I caught up to him on his way to the exam area and cast the same spell again.
Fortunately, he didn't try to dodge it. He must've thought it was another test."
"And? Did you feel it that time?"
"You see, even level 50 examinees can coat themselves in mana well enough to get through. If they're trained, it's not difficult.
But the coating is never perfect. I sense them passing through the barrier because of the tiny flaws in their mana."
"Then that means—"
"Let me put it this way. Not even the second prince, or Springold's daughter—who's praised as a prodigy—can do it perfectly. Even I can't, let alone a commoner."
"What? Not even you, Headmaster? But how—?"
"That's exactly what I want to find out. Listen, Len... I'm not speaking to you as the headmaster right now.
Go look into his background. If he checks out, make sure he joins the student council."
"I understand, Grandfather!"
---
Idiots.
Colt watched the third examinee get eliminated — even after the first two had failed and Niter had already passed.
Every examinee here had passed the preliminary test for commoners, which meant they could see mana imprints. This test was just a step above that one, but it came with a twist.
Because there was a visible target and the teacher had told them to hit it, the first two had focused only on the bull's-eye.
But if they had actually scanned the strawman with magic, they would've noticed a mana imprint on its head — that was the real target.
It was a clever trap. One designed to catch people with tunnel vision.
What made it even worse was that, after Niter revealed the trick, two others passed by following her lead.
But the next three? They still failed, trying to hit the exact same spot she had, as if copying her would be enough.
After that, though, the rest managed to pass.
Colt was the last to step forward.
He walked up to the strawman — then paused, turned around, and looked at the teacher.
She raised a brow, trying to figure out what he was doing.
Is he asking for a hint?
"Teacher," Colt said, "what's my result?"
"What do you mean?" she asked, then glanced at the strawman.
The magic imprint was gone.
What? I didn't even notice it vanish... Her expression froze for a moment, then she cleared her throat. "You pass."
The others glanced at Colt in confusion, but the teacher didn't give them time to dwell on it.
She began announcing the next exam, pulling their attention back to her.
Meanwhile, Colt was satisfied. He'd done exactly what he needed to.
He had to show off as much as possible here.
Otherwise, he might not take notice, he thought, without knowing that he had already been noticed.
---
"In this next exam, you will hit this machine to get a score. But you can't use spells."
The strawman was taken away, and a punching machine was brought in by the two men.
"Huh? Isn't this test for warriors, then? We can't do anything without spells," one of the examinees said, clearly shocked.
"Then feel free to regret not working out more."
The teacher was clearly teasing. This test had nothing to do with raw physical strength.
She said, "Without using spells," which meant using mana was still allowed.
Colt picked up on that right away. As long as they coated their fists with mana, they'd pass.
Focusing mana into a single point was difficult. When mages cast spells, they chanted to guide mana to the proper place.
Even those who no longer needed to chant had the habit of releasing mana after casting.
But holding that mana, keeping it gathered in one place without casting, took real training.
Their exams are fair.
The academy didn't ask for complex spells, which would have given nobles an advantage. They didn't even care about level, as long as each applicant was over level 50.
That way, with everyone being fifteen, they'd all had the same amount of time to train.
So, no one could say that the academy favored the nobles.
Since five examinees had already failed the last test, only fifteen remained.
The order of the examinees had also changed.
Well, there was no order anyway.
The teacher just randomly chose someone to go first.
The first was a girl. She walked up and punched the machine with no mana, just a normal strike. Her score was 268.
"You failed," the teacher said.
No one argued anymore. They'd figured out it wouldn't help.
Next was the tiger beastman boy with a bulky, muscular frame. He smirked as he stepped forward since he thought his race had an advantage in this test.
His punch hit harder, reaching a score of 973.
He looked proud, waiting for praise, only for the teacher to say, "You failed."
Then it was Colt's turn. He stepped forward and struck the machine.
His punch was slow. So slow a child could've dodged it.
But the result was vastly different.
The machine launched into the air and slammed to the ground twenty meters away, breaking into pieces.
The teacher frowned at him, but said, "You pass."
"What? He must've cheated! You said spells were forbidden!" the muscular boy snapped from the side, still on his way back.
He couldn't believe that someone without muscles could pass so easily.
He must have thought a score over a certain threshold—like a thousand—was the requirement.
The teacher glanced at him but didn't say a word.
The boy left quietly, his head low.
Twelve examinees passed this test.
For the next one, neither Niter nor Colt would go first, which meant the others would have to figure out the trick on their own.