“Well, first you’ll want to shake off your aversion to answering personal questions because the first section asks for all sorts of information. Like your patron god, soul rank and stage, level, class…”
“That sounds standard for a graduate level institution,” I said. “I’ll just lie.”
“...Really?”
“What else am I going to do?” I scoffed. “Write down error for my patron god? I don’t need to get in so badly that I’d offer myself as an object of study. Tell me about the statement of purpose and the house questions.”
“So where are you supposed to be from—Noveden? How old are you?”
I debated not answering his questions. “We’ve been traveling across the continent. I’m not from anywhere.” I looked at him, hoping I’d made the right choice to humor him. “I’m 22.”
He scowled. “You’re two years younger than me?”
Yes, it’d been the right choice. I smiled despite myself. “So the statement of purpose?”
He licked his lips. “Okay, sure. After you lie your way through your academic history, you’ll be asked for your statement of purpose. Why you’re applying specifically to Tairayat and not anywhere else in the world. You have to convince them that not only do you need them, but they need you, too. Do you have any clever bullshit for that?”
“Let me think, asshole.” I wasn’t a stranger to applications for graduate study, so I thought back to when I’d applied to Bolstaor. I moved closer so I could keep my voice low. “All of my reasons have to do with being a slayer.”
He snorted in amusement. “Well, can you reword that somehow? Like…you’re interested in Cored Beings and specifically the cores of the Demeot?”
“Why was that so easy for you?” I laughed. “Oh, right, because you’re a fucking liar. That’s a good one, though. I’ll take it.”
He grinned. “I’ve been known to have a way with words sometimes. If you’re going with that, then you need to answer why you want to study that at Tairayat. What’s the subject you’ll want to specialize in? What research have you already done in this area?”
“None.” I pinched the bridge of my nose to nudge myself to think harder. “No, that’s not entirely true. I’ve always been interested in Arabat Nololto’s work, and he’d spent most of his time in academia at Tairayat. He was interested in the differences and similarities between Souled Beings like us and Cored Beings like the Demeot.”
“Have you…seen one before?” he asked.
For some reason, that felt like his most loaded question yet. Too personal, as basic as it was to ask a slayer. Answering yes was too simple. Answering no was an obvious lie.
“The Error Wolf,” I said. “It had a demon core. So I’ll talk about my passion for demons, Nololto’s work and the demonic wolf I encountered in a dungeon that I won’t name.”
He paused, and for a moment, I thought he’d call me out for having avoided his question. Or maybe he’d apologize for having left me alone to deal with it. But he only hummed.
“You can say you want to specialize in magic theory,” he said. “You’ll want to talk about who you’d study under, too, and naming Professor Enrelo would make the most sense for you.”
How was he actually being useful? For a moment, I regretted not just answering him, but then he cracked a smile that washed the feeling away.
“You’re surprised I’m so helpful!” he said with a laugh. “Let me show you how much more helpful I can be. You’ll want to talk about how you’re the only person who’s ever encountered a demonic Error Wolf in Rage in an unnamed dungeon, and so that means you are the only one capable of doing this research. That’s why Tairayat needs you.”
We joined a string of other hopeful applicants ascending the stair pathway up the hill to campus. An anxious atmosphere settled around us, making me a little more nauseous than preferable.
“What about the house questions?” I pressed.
“First is Aïn Azhar. They ask about what area of magical study that’s the most interesting to you and why. You’ll probably want to talk about that Nololto guy more.”
For a house named after the first dean of Tairayat, a question that focused on the study of magic made sense. I hadn’t planned on joining it though.
“And the others?” I asked. “What about Saouyad and Youjar?”
“You’re getting ahead of yourself. Saouyad’s next. They want details of your last dungeon delf and if you’d do anything differently. That’s where you’d talk about the dungeon you won’t be naming. Trazigar is next.”
I’d never hear the end of it if I joined the house named after Helas, and after being her potions apprentice for two years, I didn’t need to join a house dedicated to them. Saouyad House, on the other hand, focused on dungeon delves and protecting from dungeon breaks. It was the best place for me to learn more about cores.
Khoulgan rambled on. “You’ll want to describe at least three of your favorite ingredients but definitely not more than five. They can’t all be base or common ingredients, but you won’t want to name only the obscure ones.”
Ideally, I’d want to list ingredients that would let me talk about my love for demon research. But other than a summoning potion that wasn’t supposed to work on the Demeot, I didn’t have many options.
“I’ll bullshit that,” I decided.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
He chuckled. “Well played. Since your last name’s Trazigar, I should’ve expected that sort of answer. Were you born with some innate knowledge about potions?”
“Youjar House?” I reminded him. Named after one of the greatest Shazian warriors, it was my second pick because of its focus on battle magic. “That’s your house, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, I’m in Youjar. I shouldn’t be surprised you’re only interested in the two houses that see the most danger, should I? All you have to do for Youjar is explain your understanding of the ethical considerations and responsibilities associated with battle magic. Easy for you, I’m sure.”
That sounded like the hardest question, but I wasn’t going to admit that. “Too bad I can’t talk about being set on fire. How’d you get in?”
“I said I was sorry…” He grimaced. “Okay, so talk about what happened after the Error Wolf. You needed me to defeat the Shade Phoenix.”
“I didn’t need you,” I said, but he wasn’t wrong. There was one lesson I learned in the training dungeon that I hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. I hated how much easier it’d been to take down a Transcendental beast with Khoulgan’s help.
I needed that amount of access to magic for myself.
“Fine,” he whined, “you didn’t need me. Whatever. My point though is that you can’t defeat every Cored Being just by leveling up and evolving your skills. You need battle magic, too, but you have to be careful that you don’t set your party members on fire like I did. Because then you’ll be left apologizing your whole life.”
Finally at the top of the hill, the sight of Tairayat welcomed me and the other students. The straight lines of its square silhouetted against the rising of the sun. Beautiful, but intimidating for some reason.
“Anything else I need to know?” I asked Khoulgan as we followed the other students through the front entrance—a colossal set of wood doors framed with intricate engravings.
“Welcome to Tairayat Academy,” said someone in the entry in formal robes. Probably staff or faculty. They gestured to the left. “Please complete your application in the adjacent room.”
“Don’t stress over it too much,” he said after a moment of chewing the side of his mouth. “You’ve got until sunset to submit, so you don’t have to rush. Be thoughtful with your word choices and take the time to revise.”
Not the answer I was expecting.
“I meant about the application,” I said and stopped in front of the room. “But thanks for the encouragement.”
He grinned, a sparkle in his eyes. “So you’re definitely not going to kill me in my sleep if you’re not invited to sit for the first exam?”
“Definitely isn’t the word I’d use.”
He cackled and rubbed my arm. “Good luck, Therzin.” Then he waved over his shoulder as he headed away from the growing crowd funneling into the adjacent room.
I watched him. For no reason other than that he confused me. He had to be embarrassed that I’d rescued him not once but twice. Had to hate that I was stronger than him although he had such a highly ranked soul. Most of all, he must loathe that he was being made to play nice with me to help with my cover story.
Yet he seemed all too genuine in our interactions, and I couldn’t deny that I felt less nervous now than when before we started talking about the application.
I didn’t have time to dwell much on his behavior, though, so I pressed on into a room heavy with anxiety rolling off the other applicants. The room seemed to be a repurposed ballroom, rows of tables filling the space with probably a hundred seats.
Finding a seat in the back, I studied the others in the room. Some were older than me—a few by more than twenty years—and a handful were probably younger by a few years. Mostly everyone wore typical Shazian attire, but there was a mixture of outfits from other cultures as well.
Once every seat had been filled, the doors closed, and the pressure in the air shifted in a way that reminded me of stepping into a dungeon. In the front of the room, a professor in long pastel pink silken formal robes took the spot behind a podium.
“Good morning, applicants,” she said. “I’m Professor Djoss Enrelo, and I’m here to administer your application.”
I hadn’t expected the Head of Youjar House to play proctor. She was famous for her prowess with battle magic, having taken part in some of the most famous dungeon delves over the last few years. She had brown skin and flowing black hair that fell past her shoulders. Beneath her formal robes, she wore a pale green dress that hugged her waist.
This was not the time for me to fuck up.
The professor continued, “You’ll have roughly ten hours to answer the application questions to the best of your ability. You may take less time, but you may not take more. Once you’re finished, you can leave from the same door you used to enter. However, once you leave, you cannot return.”
A wave of whispers from the front of the room to the back. Some applicants exchanged worried looks, but most of them only stiffened under the extra pressure. Rigid backs. Squared shoulders. Jaws clenched.
“On your tables, you will find a blank application and, should you need, an endless supply of paper, quills, and ink. If you have any questions, please raise your hand and wait for an aid to attend to you. You may now begin.”
A parchment scroll appeared in front of me and unrolled to show the first application question. Khoulgan had repeated it almost word-for-word.
Furious scribbling followed the arrival of the applications. The person beside me looked like they were using a skill to increase their writing speed with the pace they kept.
I dipped my quill in the ink, grabbed a spare piece of paper, and outlined my response. Once I was satisfied with my main points, I wrote the draft on several other pieces of paper before transcribing a revised version onto the parchment.
When I’d finished my final sentence, I sat back in satisfaction and watched the next question appear. Sweat spread across my brow at the thought of having to write more. But Khoulgan had prepared me well to answer this one, too, and so I repeated my process for this house question and the other three after it.
By the time I started revising my final essay, most of the other applicants had finished and left. Five of us remained, and the intensity of the nerves of the other four made it clear they were struggling. Only one of them appeared older than me. They must’ve had some story for why they hadn’t come prepared as well.
Professor Enrelo circled the room, checking on each student. One of them stood from their chair and left when she finished speaking with them. I was half-way through revising my essay for Youjar.
“Good evening,” she greeted me quietly as she leaned over my shoulder to read what I’d written on the parchment. “Very few continue for this long, and I’ve found mostly the reason these applicants take so long is because they came underprepared.”
That was a nicer way of accusing all of us of coming unprepared, but I couldn’t blame her. She wasn’t wrong. A bead of sweat rolled down my temple, and as beautiful and good smelling as she was, I wished she’d leave without saying another word.
One of her hands settled on my shoulder and squeezed gently. “However, from what I’m reading, I don’t believe that’s the case with you. Please, continue.”
She breezed away, and I released a breath. Maybe the odds were in my favor for Youjar over Saouyad. I could tolerate Khoulgan. Maybe I could even grow to like him.
I finished revising quickly, then read it over one more time. After the ink dried, I rolled it up, sealed it with wax, and left. The door led back to the entryway, which was still crowded with students. I pushed between them and stepped outside.
【QUEST NOTICE】
You have received a new quest: Seeking Entry into Tairayat Academy [Epic]
You must seek and receive an invitation to attend Tairayat Academy.
Do you accept this quest?
Yes.
A caw from not too far caught my attention, so I raised my arm for Callas to land on. She had a note tied to her leg, and so I took it off and found an ingredient list and a message to meet Helas at Kashana Casino.
Sounded like we’d be having a fun night.