What the hell am I looking at?

Jiran stared in confusion at the test questions in front of him.

The first fifty pages had been basic knowledge. Simple math questions involving multiplication and division. Geographic multiple choice regarding the lands of the empire.

It had gotten a little more interesting after that. He had needed to identify the weaknesses and strengths of several common beasts through Tier five, what habitats they preferred, and identify their tracks.

The section about Graymin had been by far the most in-depth.

Then there were dozens of questions regarding standard military operating procedures. Samris had managed to drill much of that knowledge into Jiran’s skull over the last several seasons. He was confident he had gotten most of those answers correct.

“List the three possible reasons why overproduction of black phlegm in the body creates an imbalance that affects water retention.”

I remember reading this hogwash in Samris’s library, but I laughed it off as the delusions of that particular author. Are they seriously teaching people this crap in schools?

Wow, the next question is even worse!

“Name the scientist who discovered gravity is a byproduct of a mana mass in the center of Madra. First, explain how that mana mass creates a magnetic pull that sucks all objects to the ground. Then describe how this knowledge revolutionized flight for casters throughout the empire.”

I’m just going to answer with what they want to read. I don’t feel like trying to correct this hot mess of idiocy. Especially not on an entrance exam.

Hopefully, there are a few nuggets of actual wisdom in their library, or this entire academy thing could end up being a huge waste of my time.

Unknown Perspectives

As Jiran slogged through the final questions, five figures sat in a ring several floors above him. From their comfortable chairs they gazed at a perfectly circular puddle of silver metal on the floor.

The metal moved subtly to create a detailed image of a handsome young man sitting at a small desk taking a test.

A nasally, disinterested voice came from one of the figures.

“I don’t understand what all this fuss is about. Look at how much he’s struggling with basic questions of mana theory.”

“Professor Firik, you’re just missing vital information. Your ignorance is understandable as it is your usual state of being. Hence I shall graciously forgive you.” The woman who spoke covered her mouth with her hand, yet her fingers were spread wide, allowing all to see her malicious grin.

“Elder Lenora, If I am so ignorant, please explain to me how I came upon so many rumors of your dealings with a certain illegal alchemist in the forty-third district?” Firik’s use of Elder instead of Professor did not escape the occupants of the room.

“I see your lack of decorum has expanded along with your waistline. As if insulting a woman’s age would somehow cover up your incompetence.”

“That’s enough. Control yourselves or leave. Master Filibree’s letter was clear. He believes we have much to learn from this child, so we shall observe.”

The woman's voice was a ball of iron, wrapped in velvet, tied to the end of a whip.

The two professors immediately ceased their bickering. With hands gently clasped in their laps and looks of concentration at the metal rendition of the boy, it was as if their squabbling never existed.

The boy flipped to the final page of the test, only to stare at the blank page with incomprehension.

He reached for the paper once more and began to flip it over to look at the back, but paused. Reversing his actions he placed the page back down on the desk. Then, using the pointer finger on his right hand, wrote three words.

Once finished he waited patiently in the small curtained booth, eyes closed in concentration.

“At least he knew about the mana-ink. It would be embarrassing for us all to gather and the boy not even know that much.” Firik said, his whiney voice grating on everyone’s ears.

“He did not know. That was his first time seeing mana-ink. I prepared his exam myself and left enough connection with the mana to observe his reactions. His range of emotions was consistent with a new and fascinating discovery.” The fourth voice was a feathery monotone, the lightest touch upon the ears, conveying only the relevant details and nothing more.

“Thank you for your observation, Sophia. I will leave the physical evaluation and the grading of his exam to you,” The headmistress said.

“As you command, Headmistress,” Sophia responded with a deep nod of her head.

With those words, she vanished. Firik shared a look of discomfort with the final mysterious figure in the room before he spoke up once more.

“Did Master Filibree allude to what he had taught the boy that is so important?”

“He never mentioned teaching the boy anything, only that he had learned much and that we should endeavor to do the same.”

Jiran’s Perspective

In his small booth, Jiran sat in silence and contemplated several of the questions on the exam.

I’m missing something important about the lack of knowledge in the empire. I brushed it off as an eccentric book collection in Samris’s library. But this test confirms that the gap in common knowledge between Earth and Madra is far too vast.

The questions regarding the human body stick out the most. It’s as if they have no idea what each organ does, or how blood mixes with oxygen and nutrients to meet the body’s needs. Why wouldn’t they know?

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Before Jiran could dive further into what was bothering him, mana coalesced behind him and churned familiarly. He did not panic as he turned around to face the woman who had just teleported.

At just under one and a half meters, the top of her head was even with the bottom of his rib cage. She looked up at him with slanted hazel eyes, framed by brown hair in a short utilitarian cut.

The moment the woman appeared, her aura spread out and dominated the room. Jiran’s own aura was instantly pushed in to barely cover his own body.

Wooh, she’s powerful! Tier seven or maybe even eight.

“A pleasure to meet you, my name is Jiran,” He said with a respectful bow.

“You may refer to me as Professor Linden. I will be conducting your practical examination. Follow.”

Okay, pretty robot lady, lead the way.

She did not wait for his response before she turned and walked away toward a passageway exiting the room.

The tunnel was lined with murals that depicted men wielding spears and stabbing beasts that looked like horses with bird heads. Several of the long-beaked horses had been victorious, the sharp bills ripped out chunks of flesh from their fallen victims.

The creepy passage exited into a room that looked like a grassy field. The walls and ceiling were painted to perfectly match the sky. There was even a slight breeze that carried hints of natural smells. In the distance was a small copse of trees with birds circling above it.

Is all of this necessary? Why not just go outside?

A short distance away was an area of packed dirt with several wooden and metal training dummies.

Multiple groups of other test takers were currently attacking several dummies. Some punched and kicked their wooden targets. Others fired castings while shouting ridiculous chants.

"Dark spherical destruction blast!"

Stop! It's too embarrassing!

"Flaming fiery fist of fighting fury!"

No, don't look at him with that doe-eyed expression. How could any girl be attracted to someone after hearing that!?

The Professor retracted her aura as she led him to an unused set of targets and then stood off to the side in the grass. She pointed at one of the wooden dolls.

“Strike the target using only molding.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Jiran replied while doing his best to ignore the other potential students.

For the first time since meeting the strange professor, she displayed some emotions. With narrowed eyes, she cutely puffed out her cheeks and pursed her lips, which caused her forehead and nose to wrinkle.

Aww, she's adorable, tiny, and surprisingly easy to tease.

Jiran did not try to hide his smirk.

He approached the wooden construct and sized it up. From how hard some of the others were hitting theirs, he could tell it was quite sturdy.

Each arm and leg was made from a log as thick as two of his own limbs. The chest and head were twice as thick again. Each log was drilled through with a metal rod that formed its skeleton.

The wood was dark and full of knots. Once he was close enough for his mana body to envelope it, he could detect the thick mana multiplying its toughness.

Crude but sturdy. This level of mana should be equivalent to a Tier five. She said I had to strike it with molding, so I can use a casting or shaping so long as the impact is molding?

Jiran held out his left hand and placed it on the tough wooden chest. After a few seconds of concentration, he brought his right fist up close to his left and lightly knocked once.

The entire wooden portion of the dummy exploded into a shower of shrapnel that harmlessly flew away from the dirt field.

The metal skeleton dropped harmlessly into a heap at his feet.

"Okay, what's next, Professor Linden?" He asked while looking back at her.

To her credit, the woman recovered quickly. Her initial shocked expression was replaced by confusion and then rapidly switched back to her robotic neutrality.

The reactions from the surrounding onlookers were not nearly so restrained.

"What was that attack just now!? Did anyone see what he did?"

"Who is that guy?"

"Is he an applicant like us?"

Jiran did his best to ignore the outbursts and focus on Linden.

"Please refrain from destroying academy property, applicant."

"Will do, my apologies," Jiran responded with a shrug and a light smile.

"Next, demonstrate your shaping. You may use the metal target, so long as you do not destroy it."

Jiran looked closely at the metal training aide with his aura then responded.

"Do you have anything tougher than that?"

His request caused the onlookers to react in anger and annoyance at his audacity.

"Who does that guy think he is?"

"That's a Tier six construct!"

"There's no way someone our age can damage that."

"No," was Linden's response, delivered in a dry, annoyed tone.

Hmm, what can I do that won't blow anything up?

Do I even want to show off here? I guess that's the whole point of coming, to get a higher military rank and find some allies. Being a nobody was never going to be an option.

Jiran ignored the onlookers as he raised both of his hands into the air, palms up. With a brief moment of concentration, four elements appeared above his hands and began an intricate dance.

A flickering orange flame chased a miniature cyclone. A beautiful and transparent icy globe of snow frolicked through the air. A crackling wisp of electric arcs, like a miniature sun made of current, followed behind.

The shapings expanded and grew as Jiran applied more mana to them. Their choreographed movements kept them from straying far from each other.

The four elements grew and soon dwarfed Jiran in size. The cyclone pulled at the hair and clothes of everyone in the field, while the heat of the bonfire-sized flame washed over their skin. They instinctively shrank away from the searing threat.

Simultaneously, the fine hairs on their skin stood up straight as the crackling ball transferred minuscule currents throughout the training room.

The snow globe now held an intricate city inside its shell. The outer layer protected the delicate structures from the other elements.

Everyone in the room scrambled away from Jiran, terrified by his display of power. Only the professor had maintained her position, too shocked to move as she marveled at his control.

With a flexing of his aura, a black hole appeared between the four elemental constructs.

Gradually at first and then all at once, the elements were sucked inside the black hole and vanished. The sudden descent of silence rang in their ears.

The electric charge dissipated from the air as the temperature returned to normal. The wind died down and with its passing, a collective sigh of relief escaped the lips of the shocked onlookers.

"Casting next?” Jiran asked the flustered woman.

"Yes, that is correct."

Jiran snapped the fingers on both hands while flicking his wrists. In each fist grew a five-meter whip made entirely of brilliant orange, crackling flames.

With a spin, he struck out with both whips in quick succession toward the metal target. Two deep gashes appeared across its torso. The whips cut through the metal like it was made of soft putty, then returned obediently to Jiran’s outstretched hands before ceasing to exist.

"Are we done here, Professor Linden?"