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Mage of Formulas - LITRPG
Chapter 13: A test

Chapter 13: A test

Zach glanced at the door where the woman had just exited. Her presence lingered, a commanding energy that made the air feel heavier. She moved with a kind of regal grace, like she owned every room she entered.

As soon as she disappeared, Zach leaned toward Ivonah. “So, who was that? A princess or something?”

Ivonah didn’t even look at him at first. When she finally turned, her expression was a mix of disbelief and annoyance. “A princess?” The word dripped with disdain, like he’d just compared gold to mud.

“I don’t know,” Zach said with a shrug. “I’ve got amnesia, remember? I’m playing catch-up here.”

She sighed heavily, like she had to summon patience from some hidden reserve. “She’s not a princess. We don’t have those. She's an ancient royal.”

Zach raised an eyebrow. “That supposed to mean something?”

Ivonah’s arms folded across her chest. “It means she has the blood of the old rulers. The ones who existed before the Great War wiped them out.”

“So… basically royalty,” he said, tilting his head slightly.

“It’s not the same.” Her tone was sharp, defensive.

“Sure sounds the same,” Zach countered, smirking. “Fancy bloodline, old rulers, people calling her important. What am I missing?”

“She’s still powerful,” Ivonah admitted. “Her father is the governor of Mapil. That makes her part of one of the Third City’s strongest alliances.”

“Right,” Zach said, drawing out the word. “And Mapil is… another city?”

“No,” she snapped, her brow furrowing. “How do you not know this?”

“Amnesia,” Zach reminded her, deadpan. “Kind of a big deal for me right now. Did I not mention that?”

Ivonah sighed again, louder this time, her frustration palpable. “When you said amnesia, did you mean everything?”

“Absolutely everything,” he said, voice mock-serious. “I even had to ask what clouds were.”

She blinked, her expression hovering between skepticism and pity.

“Relax,” Zach said, breaking into a faint grin. “I’m just talking shit.”

Her eyes narrowed, but there was the faintest twitch of a smile at the corner of her lips. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” he replied lightly, leaning back. “But you’ve gotta admit, you walked right into it.”

Ivonah muttered something under her breath, running a hand through her hair as if she could smooth away her irritation. “It’s not.”

“Not what?”

“Simple,” she said. Her voice softened just a fraction. “It’s complicated. Ancient royals, governors, alliances—it’s not something you can figure out with dumb questions and bad jokes.”

“Dumb questions are kind of my thing,” Zach quipped, then added, “but fine, I’ll shut up. For now.”

She gave him a sidelong glance. “Good.”

She gave him a long, searching look, and for a moment, the tension in her face eased. “You remind me of someone.”

Zach’s brow arched. “Let me guess: devastatingly handsome, sharp as a blade, impossible to resist?”

“Annoying,” she said without hesitation. “Reckless. Always making jokes when he should’ve been serious.”

“Ah,” Zach said. "To be fair, I'm serious most of the time.”

“My cousin,” she said after a pause.

“Yeah?”

She sighed, clearly debating whether or not to continue. “He was a soldier. Better than most of us, really. But he never took things seriously. Always acting like nothing could touch him.”

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“And?” Zach asked, his teasing tone softening just a bit.

“And one day, something did.” Her voice was calm, but her gaze had drifted, like she was watching something far away.

Zach gave her a moment, then said, “Sounds like he was lucky to have you around. Someone’s gotta balance out all that recklessness.”

She blinked, her focus snapping back to him. “You’re a lot alike,” she said quietly. Then, as if realizing she’d said too much, she added, “Except he was funnier.”

“Funnier?” Zach leaned back in mock offense. “I doubt it.”

“Way funnier,” she said with a smirk.

“Well,” Zach said with a dramatic sigh, “it’s a good thing I’m not trying to replace him. Big shoes to fill.”

“Trust me, you couldn’t if you tried,” Ivonah said, but her tone lacked its usual sharpness.

Before either of them could say more, the door creaked open, and a tall man strode in. His uniform was crisp, and his confident posture demanded attention.

“Ah,” the man said, his voice laced with amusement. “You must be disappointed, thinking an ancient royal would be your testing officer.”

“Very,” Iroy said without hesitation, his deadpan delivery drawing a few startled looks from those nearby.

The man chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, sorry to disappoint.”

Zach leaned over to Iroy. “Does he seem sorry to you?”

“Not even a little,” he muttered back.

The officer clapped his hands once, silencing the murmurs in the room. “All right, any guesses on what comes next?”

A broad-shouldered man near the front spoke up, his voice steady and confident. “An aptitude test. Physical and intellectual evaluation.”

The officer smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Exactly. We need soldiers—lots of them. But let me be clear: a useless soldier is a liability. Better off dead.”

The bluntness of his words sent a ripple of unease through the group, though the man didn’t seem to notice—or care.

“To save time,” he continued, pacing slowly, “we’ve combined all the enlistment phases into one. This is a survival test.”

The officer’s voice cut through the tension. “Your mission is simple: reach the bright, floating cube as fast as you can. Those who get there first will be ranked higher.”

“Floating cube?” someone whispered behind Zach.

The officer’s sharp gaze landed in their direction for a moment before moving on. “Of course, when I say ‘survive,’ don’t panic. If anyone gets fatally injured, they’ll receive immediate medical attention.”

A collective breath of relief swept through the room.

“But,” the officer added with a thin smile, “those who can’t make it through will be disqualified from combat roles.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Zach muttered to himself.

It wouldn't be too bad if he didn't need to power himself so he could avoid being an easy victim of a war crime.

The officer tapped the floor with his boot, the sharp sound cutting through their side chatter. “Let me be clear. Support roles are crucial—some even more important than fighting on the front lines. But if you want to be a soldier, there’s no room for weakness. Understood?”

The room was silent.

“Any questions?” he asked, his gaze sweeping over the recruits.

Zach raised a hand lazily. “Yeah. How long is this supposed to take? And are there rules for behavior?”

A flicker of amusement crossed the officer’s face. “Rules are simple. No killing your fellow recruits. You can break a bone, though.”

“Good to know,” Zach muttered.

“Doesn’t that technically count as bad behavior?” someone asked, their voice nervous.

“Depends on your perspective,” the officer replied smoothly. He turned back to Zach. “As for how long this will take? That depends entirely on you.”

“I see,” Zach said.

That sounds like a vague way of saying, possibly forever.

Before the officer could respond, the ground beneath their feet began to rumble. The vibrations grew stronger, sending jolts of panic through the recruits.

The officer smiled broadly. “Good luck.”

With that, the floor gave way.

Zach’s stomach lurched as he plummeted into the darkness. Around him, people screamed and flailed, their panic echoing in the vast emptiness.

“What the hell is happening?” he shouted, though the wind rushing past drowned his words.

A faint light appeared below, growing brighter as they fell. Moments later, they hit the ground—but instead of a bone-shattering impact, they bounced, the surface beneath them yielding like jelly.

Zach groaned as he rolled onto his side. The faint shimmer of the jungle around him caught his eye. Massive trees loomed high, their canopies glowing faintly in the strange light.

He sat up and glanced at Ivonah and Iroy. “No floating cube. False advertising.”

Iroy’s gaze was sharp, calculating. His head moved in small, deliberate motions as he took in every detail—the trees, the dense undergrowth, the sky, and the faint hum of insects in the air.

“Looking for something?” Zach asked.

“Anything,” Iroy replied without looking back. “Traps. Movement. Clues. Could be anything.”

Ivonah nodded approvingly. “Smart. There’s no guarantee they didn’t drop us right into a death trap.”

Zach responded, “Or maybe they want us to freak out and waste time while the cube’s just sitting over the next hill.”

Iroy smirked faintly, but said nothing.

Zach glanced around. "So, question: how psychopathic are the other guys? Like, would they attack us now just to make sure we can’t compete for the floating square?”

Iroy frowned, considering. “I can see it happening. It's competitive city. Everyone here’s used to clawing their way to the top. But,” he added, “most people would probably focus on finding the square first. That's what I think. And that's what I would do. It's a race after all.”

“Yeah,” Ivonah chimed in, nodding. “That logic tracks. You’d only attack if the square’s in sight or you thought someone else was about to reach it.”

“Right, right,” Zach said, nodding thoughtfully. “Makes sense.”

He paused, then said, “But here’s the thing: what if some of them decide to not take the risk? Why wait for someone to know the location of the square? They could stumble onto a shortcut or get lucky. If you take them out now—make them unable to compete—that never happens.”

Ivonah tilted her head, eyeing him carefully. “You’re suggesting we eliminate anyone who could be a threat?”