After the brisk yet surreal meeting with the Headmaster, Lucian and Ellie moved into a test chamber tucked deep within the inner halls of the Aetherion Arcanum.
The chamber was an elegant expanse of pearl and cream—polished stone floors etched with ancient runes, glowing faintly beneath a soft shimmer of ambient mana. The walls breathed with wards layered over centuries, and a great glass dome above let in filtered daylight, tinted with a subtle gold hue as if kissed by divinity.
At the far end stood a raised dueling podium—circular, rune-inscribed, and unmistakably the main stage for magical assessments.
Lucian stood in the center of the chamber, hands in his coat pockets, expression poised somewhere between amused and vaguely irritated. The natural light caught the edges of his black hair, revealing faint streaks of blue, and his storm-grey eyes scanned the room with restless curiosity.
With him were Ellie, smug as ever, the wizardly Headmaster radiating curious excitement, and a selection of faculty and staff. Among them, one woman stood out—a stern administrator with a clipboard clutched too tightly in her gloved hands. Her gaze lingered on Lucian longer than it should have, her expression flickering with something sharp.
Those eyes. That cocky poise. That maddening smirk.
It reminded her far too much of someone she once knew. An old mistake. A regret that occasionally wore perfume and bad decisions. And here it was again, like fate had sent her the sequel.
She hated him immediately.
Lucian, of course, had no idea. He just thought her earrings looked cool.
It had been three weeks since the semester officially began. Lucian, being exceptional in every inconvenient way, had been forced into a late-entry admission protocol. He'd been excited at first—tests, trials, magic under pressure? Finally, something interesting.
Then they brought out the crystal.
A floating, polished mass of dense mana, pulsing slowly above a pedestal.
Lucian blinked. Crossed his arms.
"Oh," he muttered. "This kind of thing."
Boredom crept in. And a bored Lucian?
That was trouble waiting to happen.
"Place your hand on the crystal," the clipboard woman said, tight-lipped.
He obeyed with a theatrical sigh, placing his palm on the surface.
The crystal responded instantly. A pulse of light rippled outward, concentric rings of mana scanning his body from fingertip to aura. Glowing numbers appeared in the air.
Aptitude Score: 98.
The room froze.
The crystal flashed. Ran the scan again.
Still 98.
The woman scribbled, now visibly less confident.
The Headmaster let out a low, delighted hum. "It appears you were not exaggerating, Ellie."
Ellie just smiled like a cat with feathers in her teeth.
Lucian stretched his neck. "Can we get to the fun part now?"
Next was Mana Zone Range.
He was led to a large rune circle engraved in the floor—faintly glowing, reactive, ancient.
"Stand in the center," one of the researchers said, "and release your mana slowly."
Lucian stepped in, took a breath, and exhaled.
Mana flowed from him—not violently, but like the slow swell of a rising tide. Calm. Steady. Absolute.
The runes ignited, one after another, stretching outward in rippling light.
At 20 yards, the clipboard woman leaned in.
At 50, assistants stopped taking notes and just stared.
At 70, someone whispered, "Is it still expanding?"
At 100 yards, a hush settled over the room.
"Mana sensory field: one hundred yards," someone confirmed. "No flicker, no drop in cohesion. It's… unnerving."
The Headmaster tilted his head thoughtfully. "That range is typical of advanced graduates. And he hasn't even cast a spell."
Lucian yawned.
Then came the Trait Check.
A silver construct hovered down—rings orbiting a crystal core like the bones of a collapsed star.
Lucian stepped into its scanning radius.
Mana responded to him like moths to flame. The rings spun faster. The core glowed.
Above his head, a shimmering rune formed in golden light:
S-Tier Trait Detected.
Everyone froze.
Then—
"WONDERFUL!" the Headmaster bellowed, clapping like a boy at fireworks. "Marvelous! Splendid!"
Lucian squinted. "What's a trait again?"
The Headmaster conjured a glowing diagram of layered magical auras, hands dancing like a conductor.
"Traits," he said, "are inherent gifts. Some magical. Some martial.
Magical traits affect spellcasting—reducing mana cost, enhancing power, altering effects.
Martial traits impact the body—reflexes, strength, vision, stamina. Some can see mana. Some can eat it."
He turned back to Lucian, eyes sparkling.
"Your trait is called Arcane Attunement, if I'm not mistaken. A rare affinity to understand magic at a glance. Spell matrices, ambient fields, formations—even corrupted runes. Your mind doesn't learn magic. It absorbs it."
Lucian tilted his head. The pieces clicked.
That feeling, back in the library. The threads of Ellie's teleportation spell tugging at his perception. That strange mental itch to unravel everything.
"Oh," he said softly. "That's what that was."
"Only one other student had something similar," the Headmaster added, eyes twinkling. "And she went on to become terrifying."
Ellie, leaning on a pillar, said nothing. But her smirk deepened.
The clipboard woman's hand twitched around her pen.
The other faculty whispered among themselves, as if Lucian were some newly discovered magical creature.
Then, at last, came the final test:
Spellwork and Practicality.
The Headmaster stroked his beard. "Let's give him a proper opponent."
He looked toward the clipboard woman. "If you'd be so kind?"
She didn't respond right away.
Still staring at him. That grin. That damned cocky face. The arrogance. The resemblance.
She flipped through the student register with a gloved hand, Skimming Class D. Skipping C. Ignoring B entirely.
Her eyes landed on the first name in Class A. Her lips curled—not in kindness.
"Yes," she said slowly. "Let's see how he handles her."
She tapped the name with her finger. "Top of Class A. A prodigy. Daughter of House Virellia—one of the Four Great Magic Families."
She handed the file to an assistant. "Summon Nerida Virellia."
The name echoed in the chamber like a spell released.
Even Ellie's smirk faltered.
Faculty members shared sidelong glances. Some fidgeted.
Lucian, however…
His eyes lit up.
The boredom that had dulled his expression vanished in an instant. His posture straightened. His fingers curled and uncurled, eager. Thrumming.
He'd been waiting for this.
To test the strength of his newly refined pathways. To feel magic move again.
Ever since that night in his room. Ever since Ellie pulled him from the edge.
"Finally," he muttered, cracking his knuckles.
His aura rose faintly.
"Let's see what I can really do."