The sun had only barely come up over the horizon as Levin found himself before a large, ornate building, the site of Inuvik Academy’s recruitment. Red banners, each adorned with a white dragon head, hung from the top of the building. Below a large set of double doors were open to reveal a large courtyard.

As Levin walked through the doors, he found himself in a large crowd gathered in a long line. As Levin waited in the line, he noticed many others hurrying past the crowd. Without exception, these people skipping the line were finely dressed groups, each composed of one or two adults accompanying a young child, preteens by Levin’s estimation. Compared to them, many of those in line with Levin were on their own and older.

As the line progressed, Levin was able to catch glimpses of what they were in line for ‒ a row of people dressed in uniform sat behind a row of tables, handing paperwork to those at the front. As Levin reached the front, a bored-looking old man glanced up at him before staring back down at the paper in his hand.

“Name,” he droned out.

“Levin.”

The old man scribbled on the paper briefly. “Ten silver,” he said, lazily stretching his hand out.

Levin already had the amount in hand. He handed them over to the old man, who dropped them into a box and gave Levin the piece of paper in return, waving him away at the same time. Levin really wanted to ask for a reading lesson, but now didn’t seem like the right time.

Instead Levin moved on, clutching the paperwork tightly as he followed others into the interior of the building. Inside, he was greeted with an intricately patterned marble floor, and walls decorated with finely painted portraits, a stark departure from the plain inn he had spent the night in.

Looking forward, he found people waiting, divided into two distinctly different groups. Seated in the middle of the antechamber in chairs that had been set out and arranged in rows were the groups of well-dressed families that had skipped the previous line, engaged in polite conversations. Milling off to the side in various small groups were the individuals like Levin, some of whom chatted quietly amongst themselves.

Levin stood amongst a few other individuals in the back who all waited quietly, all filled with the same hope, praying silently as they watched more people fill the room.

As time passed and the flow of people slowed, a man dressed in a long, flowing robe that reached the floor entered the antechamber from the other end, followed by several other men and women dressed in a similar robed uniform. As they entered, the large crowd quieted in respect.

“It’s a different robe,” Levin thought, comparing it to Azaadi’s clothing. “So Kirima was telling the truth, these aren’t the ones who attacked us.” Unlike the white robes with snaking black lines worn by the members of the Lightning Corp, this mage wore a robe stained a dark red with much baggier folds that fell around the middle-aged man like a loose blanket.

Clearing his throat, this robed man addressed the crowd, “Hello everyone, and welcome to Inuvik Academy’s Magical Aptitude Exam. I am Magus Pilip, in charge of recruitment here at our esteemed academy, and the one who will be proctoring your tests today. I have the final decision on whether each of you will pass, or whether you will fail.

“Let me be clear. Almost all of you will fail. Only a lucky few who possess the talent necessary to enter a prestigious magical institution such as ours will be welcomed into Inuvik Academy. And if you fail, we will not be refunding your admission fee,” he said, eyes flicking between the wealthy parents in the front.

“Now, please follow my assistant Anji’s instructions for the first of your two tests,” Magus Pilip said, walking away with a dismissive wave.

From amongst the group that had entered behind Magus Pilip, a brown-haired young woman stepped up, holding a thin strip of wood in her hand.

“Everyone please line up to come this way!" she shouted, her voice carrying throughout the large room better than Magus Pilip’s. “We’ll split you into groups and take you to your test room!”

The seated families began to rise and shuffle their way to the front, leisurely following behind Anji’s coworkers. The stragglers who were scattered around the room lined up behind them, keeping their distance – Levin decided it was prudent to do the same.

The various test assistants each split off a group of around twenty from the mass of people, leading them away in different directions deeper into the grand hall. Levin and the small group that had been immediately around him did the same, following a black haired youth down a few brightly lit and decorated corridors to a small room. A couple other groups entered the rooms surrounding them at the same time as Levin and the others entered their own room to find a few rows of chairs and desks facing the same direction, like a classroom.

“Please take a seat,” spoke the assistant, who walked to the front of the room and watched as the small group hurriedly sat down.

“Please let me explain the test,” said the boy, appearing slightly nervous as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other repeatedly. “It is very simple. You will all be shown a diagram, and your job is to memorize the shape of it. You have one minute, and then you will need to draw it onto your test sheet as well as you can. You will be graded on how accurately you can replicate it.”

Levin looked down at the paper that had been handed to him after waiting in line, the one that his ten silver had seemingly been spent on. The top had a few lines for information, most of which were blank except for his name, and underneath was a large blank area intended for this test.

“You will find pens and ink on your desks. You aren’t allowed to use them until the diagram is gone, or else you will be cheating,” said the young test assistant.

With that, he examined the group of people before him, and noting their attentiveness, pulled out a small stack of folded pages from his uniform pocket and began handing them out. Levin took one, but didn’t immediately unfold it.

“The one minute timer begins once you open the test. You can open them whenever you are ready. Those who finish first, don’t let the others look at your answers,” he concluded as finished handing out the test sheets.

Looking at the paper that had been placed on his desk, Levin couldn’t help letting out a half smile as he fiddled with the wood-handled writing brush, running the coarse fibers of the tip along his thumb.

“Memorization? But I have a computer in my head!” Levin thought with glee.

As he gently unfolded the paper he had just been handed, he saw several dark gray lines adorning the page softly light up, letting out a dull light. The largest shape was a circle running around the edge of the paper, with all the glowing lines contained within its perimeter.

Within the circle, strange polygons criss-crossed the space inside, intersecting each other seemingly at random. Other than the outer circle, each stroke of the rune was straight, the lines of the rune joining together in pointed angles. And Levin noticed that the lines seemed awfully similar to the engraved patterns on the inside of the pods at the bottom of the dragon cave.

But for all the complexity, this test was a trivial task for Levin. The only question was how perfectly he should copy the design onto his test sheet.

So as the minute ticked away, Levin sat in contemplation, unlike those around him who were desperately trying to commit the intricate designs to memory. Of course, he had no qualms about abusing his Y-Link to the fullest on this test. He could try to take it with just his natural memory, but that seemed simply foolish.

Levin was more concerned with being accused of cheating than the moral principles of the situation. After all, Levin was very confident he couldn’t even replicate half of this design with just his biological ability. But it was also possible that the humans of this dimension were much better at memorization, especially if they lived in a society that valued it highly as a skill.

As the final seconds of the minute counted down, the examinee’s pages suddenly burst into flames with a small pop before turning into ash, bringing Levin back to the moment. As they did, everyone quickly grabbed their pens and began scribbling away before the image faded from their mind, and now Levin needed to make his choice.

Then he remembered Magus Pilip saying most people would fail. The requirements must be high. And if Levin failed because he intentionally underperformed, he would be angry until the next entrance exam.

So he decided to go for perfection. Levin picked up his pen, dipped it into the ink, and then began to delicately wind the bristles over his paper. Without making a single mistake, he recreated the complicated diagram perfectly onto his test sheet, and then swiftly stowed away his pen and paper when he realized he was one of the last to finish.

Once the last few stragglers wrapped up their work, anguished expressions on their faces, the test assistant moved around the room, taking away the brushes and inkstones to prevent cheating.

“Please wait here. Once it’s your turn for the next test, someone will come to take you there,” he said as he made his way around the room.

As he left, silence descended on the room of test takers. The minutes began to turn into hours as the small group continued to wait. A few struck up quiet conversation to pass the time, but most waited in silence, including Levin, who passed the time through Cho’s eyes, continuing to gather whatever information he could.

After several hours, a different person dressed in the same uniform entered the room.

“Okay, it’s your turn. Follow me,” he said.

The group shuffled out obediently, following the assistant into the hallway.

“That first test was designed to measure your ability to memorize magic spells,” the assistant explained as the small group followed behind. “The second test will be done by Magus Pilip himself, and it will measure your ability to actually manipulate magic itself.”

“Ability to manipulate magic?” Levin thought, growing nervous. “What is this test going to be like? I get the feeling my Y-Link won’t help me here…”

They continued traipsing through several more hallways before approaching a large central room. As they entered, they saw Magus Pilip seated facing the entrance, quietly talking to the woman named Anji, who stood respectfully at his side. The ground in front of him was criss-crossed by gently glowing sets of lines far more complicated than the small one in the previous test.

“Please line up right here,” the assistant who had led them here stood in front of the magic circle as the examinees loosely lined up before him.

“Begin,” said Magus Pilip after the line had settled into place.

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Ushering the first in line into the circle on the ground, the assistant directed the hopeful mage to sit down in the center. He took their test paper, then handed it off to Anji as he stepped away.

“This will sting for a moment, but you’ll be fine. Do not leave the rune until I am done,” said Magus Pilip, raising his right hand towards the center.

Simultaneously, the magic lines on the ground lit up at the same time as a symbol on the back of Magus Pilip’s hand. The examinee, seated in the center of the glowing lines, let out a grunt as his face twisted into a grimace. After a second, the light disappeared, and Magus Pilip began whispering to Anji, who started writing down the results onto the test paper. The paper was handed back to the test assistant, who glanced at it before wordlessly directing the examinee to stand off to the side.

This same pattern continued to repeat for each person in line, and as the group that had finished testing continued to grow, the tension in the room over who passed and who failed continued to rise, especially as the completed test papers continued to be placed in a single stack by the assistant. Before long, Levin had reached the front of the line, and took a seat in the center of the glowing lines.

However, as the lines on the ground and the pattern on Magus Pilip’s hand lit up for him, Levin did not grunt and wince like those examinees before him. Magus Pilip raised an eyebrow, staring at Levin curiously as he delivered the test results to Anji. However, that was the extent of his reaction, and Levin was brought over to wait with all the others.

As the remaining examinees finished being tested, Pilip finally rose from his chair, turning to face the small group that anxiously awaited their results.

“I was the only one who didn’t feel pain,” Levin thought to himself, burning up with anxiety as Magus Pilip looked at them. “If passing is so rare, then maybe that means I passed!”

“Congratulations. You’ve all failed,” Pilip said dryly before sitting back down to speak quietly once again with Anji.

Levin shuddered, his hope draining away. After plunging down the bottomless pit that this expedition had turned in to, he finally felt like he had found a miraculous foothold. But now it was broken, and Levin once more felt like there was no solid ground beneath his feet.

Where would he go now? How would he ever find a way home in this medieval world without the aid Inuvik Academy offered? When he’d discovered a place offering to teach magic, he’d felt once more like he had control of the situation. That he could work towards a goal in the only way he knew how.

But now reality crashed into him like a brick wall. Andrew was dead, and Mei was effectively deaf and mute. There would be no rescue mission coming now that the dimensional connection was lost. Magic was his only hope.

The test assistant began to shepherd the dejected group out of the room, and Levin mindlessly shuffled along with his fellow examinees. However, they had only gotten a little ways into the hallway before Anji came out of the testing room in a hurry.

“Magus Pilip would like to see Levin,” she called out to the departing group.

And once again his emotions flipped around, a roller coaster raging in his heart. He turned back around, following the brunette back towards the doors of Magus Pilip’s testing room. A warmth creeped up Levin’s neck as his heart pounded away in his chest, and Levin wished there were more airflow in the stuffy building.

As they reentered the spacious room, Levin found Magus Pilip in his same seat, looking at the single piece of paper in his hands from behind a bushy goatee and wrinkled brow. Levin stood before him awkwardly for a minute, unsure what to do as Anji stood by his side.

“Levin… Levin, Levin Levin. Levin. That’s your name, right, Levin?” Magus Pilip said without looking up.

“...yes, sir,” Levin said. Before this man who held Levin’s fate as a mage in his hands, Levin felt intimidated in a way he hadn’t in years. “Then again,” Levin thought, “he could probably kill me with a wave of his hand.” Being intimidated was only natural.

“Well, Levin, you’re lucky I called you back. I almost didn’t,” said Magus Pilip.

“Thank you,” Levin responded, giving a small head nod he had seen others perform. He didn’t want to say too much, to say something wrong.

“I dismissed you initially because you did fail, without question. I want to make that clear. But still, you’re unique… In all my years, I’ve never seen one like you,” Magus Pilip said, looking up from the page in his hand and examining Levin.

A cold shiver ran down Levin’s spine. Could they tell somehow that he came from another dimension? Were the humans here only the same in appearance, and the true differences were only now coming to light at the worst timing possible? Was that why they were attacked?

And if he had undeniably failed, then this man’s purpose in calling Levin back may not be benevolent. An urge to flee as fast as he could filled Levin’s body, a desire to climb aboard Cho’s wide back and fly into the sun and leave this frightful land of Trurok behind. But Levin remained rooted in place, still clinging to that faint, faraway hope that he might still be offered a golden ticket to magehood by the gatekeeper before him.

“I’ve never seen someone receive perfect marks for the rune section,” Magus Pilip said, and Levin fought back a grimace – he should have held back a little. But at least now he knew the small magic shapes on paper during the first test and the large, intricate engraving on the floor before him were both called runes.

“Normally, with a result like that, even a poor score on the second test would get you admitted. However, you scored much worse than that – you can’t use magic at all,” Magus Pilip said, furrowing his brow at his own final statement.

But for Levin, it was like a thunderbolt running down his spine. “So we are different! There is something about the people here that lets them use magic!” he thought to himself.

It was a mixed feeling, an overwhelming disappointed bitterness surging alongside a bubbling excitement at the first puzzle piece to this world falling into place. But there was no time to dwell on it – Magus Pilip still had yet to get to his point.

But Pilip went quiet, setting aside the page in his hand as he stroked his short beard with the other, appearing to be deep in thought. Levin wanted to break the silence, to keep the dialogue flowing, but he kept his mouth shut instead, stretching his patience thin as he endured moments that passed like minutes.

“Then, I realized something,” Magus Pilip finally said. “I had an idea. You see, someone like you isn’t just an anomaly, you’re an impossibility. Even the least talented mortal still possesses the tiniest hint of magical potential, due to something inside each person we mages call a Source.

"That’s why… well, the reason our Inuvik Academy has perpetually failed in a, let’s say, unique area of research. But perhaps an individual like yourself is the key to progress. I believe that your lack of any magical aptitude at all could be explained by a lack of a Source.

“And so, I have a proposition. A deal, let’s say. Something mutually beneficial for the both of us. I’m unable to admit you as one of our acolyte students, but there are two things I can give you. First, I can make you my research assistant. Unlike other Academy servants, as my research assistant you’ll answer only to me, so I can protect you from some of my more… unsavory, shall we say, colleagues,” Magus Pilip said.

“Is he referring to the people that attacked us?” Levin thought to himself. “Or is it common for these mages to be homicidal maniacs?”

“Second,” Pilip continued, “I can grant you magic.”

Levin perked up at that, immediately forgetting – or maybe simply in denial – that Magus Pilip had just told him magic was out of reach. He almost accepted right then and there, so eager was Levin to get into Inuvik Academy by any means available. But Levin still held onto enough sense to stay his agreement, waiting for Magus Pilip to come forth with that all-important deciding factor – Levin’s side of the deal.

“What do I have to do?” he asked.

“It’s easy. Once I confirm you have no Source, you will have a set of three runes engraved into your body. In the past, these runes… haven’t taken, let’s say. But with your complete lack of magic, you are like a blank canvas, incapable of rejecting them. The runes will be yours, though the Academy will expect you to use them for its benefit if the experiment succeeds. But work as a mage is better than work on a farm, no?”

Levin hesitated, not understanding what exactly Magus Pilip’s plan with him was. “What happened to the past test subjects?”

“Concerned about the danger, hm? Fret not. If I didn’t care about preserving my guinea pigs, I wouldn’t be asking so nicely. I’d just force you into it,” Magus Pilip said with a chuckle.

Levin didn’t find that very funny, but it was enough for him. Hopefully he won't regret this.

“I accept.”

“Very good. From now on, call me Master Pilip. Head through there and wait with the others,” Pilip said, pointing towards a door in the back of the room.

Levin nodded, walking around the large measuring rune engraved in the floor. However, he hadn’t taken more than a few steps when Magus Pilip cleared his throat, staring at Levin. Levin paused, looking at him questioningly.

After a moment, Pilip sighed. “I suppose I shouldn’t expect manners from a farm boy. No matter. For now, know it is appropriate to bow at the waist when greeting me and leaving my presence. Do you understand?”

Levin froze, but quickly collected himself, executing a deep bow with clasped hands that he had seen others perform, but not taken note of. “Yes, Master Pilip,” Levin said as he rose from the bow, but remained in place.

Magus Pilip nodded back with a smile. “Good. Go,” he said, and Levin scurried off once more.

“Etiquette! Another thing I completely forgot about. It’s a good thing Master Pilip seems patient,” Levin thought to himself

Anji handed Levin his test paper back as he passed, and as Levin pushed through the doors, he saw a small waiting room, with only six other people present. Four of them were well-dressed, clearly children of the upper class families that had made up a majority of the applicants. Another was a scraggly teenager who sat off in the corner, appearing to be napping. Finally, the last person came bounding up to Levin as soon as she saw him enter the room.

“You made it too! Congratulations!” Kirima beamed up at Levin.

Before Levin could reply, one of the wealthy teens sauntered up to them, a haughty expression on his face. The other three that were with him followed behind, as if members of his posse.

“Let’s see your scores, hmm?” he said, clicking his tongue.

Levin made a strange expression at the much younger boy, but before he could say anything, another of the youths snatched his test paper from his hand.

“Copan, this guy has all zeros!” he exclaimed, scrambling away from Levin back to the others, who all began to gawk together at Levin’s test paper before erupting into laughter.

Kirima snatched the paper back from the four as she began to berate them, “You lot need to learn some respect! If you don’t–”

“Why would we care what a failure thinks?” Copan said, cutting Kirima off before leading the other three away.

“Honestly!” Kirima exclaimed under her breath.

“Sorry about them. They think they’re better than us, just because their scores are good!” she said, handing Levin’s results paper back to him.

“Thanks,” Levin responded, taking his first good look at what had been written on his paper.

Above the large section allocated for the first test was a row of boxes, labeled with text that meant nothing to the illiterate Levin. Each of these boxes had been filled in with a zero, written by Magus Pilip’s test assistant.

“What do these numbers mean?” Levin asked, gesturing towards his paper.

“They’re aptitudes. Here, look at mine,” Kirima passed her own paper to Levin while moving to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with him.

Pointing at the numbers on her page, she continued, “These are your affinities for different types of magic, like fire or water. And this one on the far right, it’s your overall ability to absorb energy.”

Levin looked over the numbers written on Kirima’s test sheet. Most of her numbers were in the single digits, with a single affinity at twenty-eight and the far right box reading forty-one.

“Which type of magic are you good at?” Levin asked, pointing towards the box numbered twenty-eight.

“Water. My family, the Chensu, specializes in water magic, and most of my family members are powerful mages… But my scores aren’t that great, like Copan said. All these numbers go from one to ninety-nine, and you need over fifty at least to be considered talented.”

Levin glanced down at his row of zeros.

“The smallest is one?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh! I’m not sure anymore…” she said.

Before Levin had time to ponder the implications of this discovery, the doors to the room swung open, and Magus Pilip walked in alone.

“The testing for the day is over. Congratulations to all of you, for real this time. Please follow me outside and we will depart for Inuvik Academy.”