The first round of the exam began. It was a written test. Each participant was sent into a designated room to answer a series of questions. For about three hours, the tests were administered, collected, and graded.
Once it was over, everyone gathered in the waiting hall. After a brief wait, the results were announced. Names were called, and those who passed were asked to step forward. Each one was instructed to take a sealed envelope inside a box, each with a number within.
Ezekiel was among those who qualified. So was Clyde.
Clyde wasn't particularly smart or talented. Everything he had was given to him without effort. Even his rank had been artificially boosted by top-tier enhancement items his influential family had provided. Today was no different.
As the nephew of the Palladium Guild leader, Clyde didn't even need to participate in the exam. His acceptance was all but guaranteed. But he still joined, purely for the formality, and to flaunt his power.
Before the first round even began, Clyde had already pulled strings. He approached one of the exam officials and exchanged hushed words behind closed doors.
When it came time for Ezekiel to receive his envelope, the man handing them out paused and gave one to him personally. The gesture seemed slightly suspicious, but Ezekiel said nothing and took it.
He was so used to unfair treatment that he didn't even care what happened or who his opponent would be. All he knew was to crush it, just like he had survived those hellish dungeons with his former weak stats.
He opened it and saw the number 11 inside.
Once everyone had their envelopes, an announcement echoed through the hall.
"The person with the same number as you is your opponent in the next round. You are permitted to kill each other."
The hall erupted into chaos.
"What? Are they serious?"
"What if your opponent is stronger than you? That's ridiculous."
The complaints were loud and immediate, but Palladium had a response ready.
"We understand your concerns. This match is not only about winning. We will be evaluating how you respond in battle, especially when faced with someone stronger or weaker than you. Your judgment, decision-making, and restraint will be closely monitored. This is a test of character as much as skill.
"Yes, lethal force is allowed. However, multiple healers are on standby. Injuries will be treated immediately. All medical costs will be covered, and in the event of an accidental death, financial compensation will be provided to the participant's family. If anyone wishes to withdraw, you are free to leave. The doors are open."
The room quieted.
A few participants decided to leave, unwilling to risk their lives. But most remained. The stakes were high, but so was the reward.
"No wonder they're the second-highest ranked guild in the nation," someone muttered. "Their process is brutal."
Soon, the first battle was called. Two participants with the number 1 stepped onto the dueling platform.
One of them was a B-rank magician, the same woman who had ridiculed Ezekiel earlier. Her opponent was a C-rank swordsman.
She looked at him with disdain, twirling her ornate staff with a sneer.
"What a pathetic sword you're holding. Compared to my A-class staff, that thing might as well be a toothpick."
The knight stared back, calm and composed.
"It's not about the grade of the weapon. It's about how you use it."
Her smile disappeared.
Angered by his confidence, she launched the first attack. Fireballs erupted from her staff, shooting toward him in rapid bursts.
But none hit their mark.
The knight dodged every single spell with smooth, precise footwork. The longer the battle continued, the more her mana began to dwindle. Her attacks grew weaker.
Seizing the opportunity, the man charged.
She tried to summon a barrier, but he kept swinging relentlessly.
Finally, her defense shattered.
His sword slashed across her chest and cheek. The wounds were deep enough to draw blood, but not fatal. He had held back, stopping just short of causing lasting harm.
The time limit expired, signaling the end of the match.
Healers rushed in to tend to the fallen magician, wrapping her in glowing threads of regenerative magic.
The crowd was stunned into silence.
One match down.
Many more to go.
And somewhere in that growing list, Ezekiel waited.
The matches continued one after another. Each time, the platform was stained with sweat and blood. Some battles were fast, others dragged on. But all were brutal and emotionally charged. Some participants won with overwhelming power, others used clever tactics to overcome stronger foes. Every fight was a testament to the unforgiving nature of this trial.
Then, the moment arrived.
"Participants holding the number 11, please step into the ring."
The voice of the facilitator echoed across the arena.
Two figures rose from opposite ends of the crowd.
It was Ezekiel. A class Warrior/Reaper - rank A+ : (top 227 on leaderboards)
And Clyde. A class Swordsman/Knight - rank A : (top 233 on leaderboards)
Murmurs rippled through the waiting hall.
"A match between two A-ranks?"
"These two are the top prospects this year. This is going to be insane."
Excitement buzzed in the air. Some spectators even began placing bets, eager to wager on who would emerge victorious.
All eyes were fixed on the ring.
This was not just another match.
It was a clash between talent and privilege.
And everyone wanted to see who would stand tall at the end.