Mel stood at the entrance of the classroom, observing the chaos inside. The room buzzed with animated voices as students argued passionately over their projects.

“No way! If I’m building a remote-controlled carriage, it wouldn’t need wheels—it could just teleport!” shouted a kid wearing oversized goggles, furiously tightening a screw on some gadget.

“You absolute idiot!” a girl shot back, her hands deftly connecting wires as sparks briefly flared. “How do you plan to make it teleport without magic? You can’t just wish for it to happen!”

Mel couldn't help but smirk as he watched the heated debate unfold, the raw energy in the room reminding him of the inventiveness and stubborn determination he knew so well.

A girl at one of the cluttered tables carefully swirled together a concoction in a beaker. "Guys, back up! I’m trying to make a potion here!" she warned, her focus unwavering. She poured a final ingredient in, then quickly covered her eyes as the mixture erupted into a brilliant plume of flame.

The students briefly erupted into applause, clearly impressed, but almost immediately returned to their heated debates as if nothing had happened. Rue let out a weary sigh, shaking her head. “Welcome to the Yellow Cards: mad geniuses with zero magic but the ability to build like maniacs,” she said with a wry smile.

At that moment, the boy with the remote-controlled carriage suddenly stood up, plugging his device into a socket. “Wait, I forgot the stabilizing compound so it doesn’t explode!” he shouted in a panic.

The room froze for half a second before chaos broke loose.

“You idiot! What’s wrong with you?!” a girl yelled, diving behind a table for cover as others screamed and scrambled out of the way.

The carriage began to hum ominously, its circuits sparking wildly. Just before it could detonate, Mel calmly summoned a silken enforcer, the spectral figure snatching the device with precision and crushing it in its massive grip. The potential explosion fizzled out with a harmless pop.

“It’s okay, everybody!” Mel called out, his voice steady as he turned to the stunned students.

As the chaos subsided, the room fell silent for a single, tension-filled beat. Then, like a dam breaking, the students erupted—not in panic, but in awe and admiration for Mel’s quick thinking.

Mel scanned the cluttered tables and spotted a bottle with a chemical that was still sizzling and giving off smoke. Without hesitation, he picked it up, his gaze darting around until he found another, similar bottle that wasn’t emitting fumes. He calmly combined the two liquids, the mixture swirling into a mesmerizing iridescent glow.

“What are you doing?!” a girl asked, her tone equal parts curiosity and alarm.

Mel grinned, lifting the concoction like a toast. “Cool, right?”

Before anyone could stop him, he downed the potion in one quick gulp. For a moment, nothing happened—then his voice emerged high-pitched and squeaky, like a chipmunk. “This is awesome!” he exclaimed, his excitement magnified by his unexpected tone.

The room erupted into laughter and cheers, a mix of impressed and amused students clapping and egging him on. Rue facepalmed, though a smile tugged at her lips. “I envy him, so easy to impress people. It’s only making me adore him more!” She thought with a blush.

"How’d you learn to make that?" a boy asked, his eyes wide with curiosity.

Mel’s voice returned to normal as he shrugged nonchalantly. “A man in Caldara taught me. He had... interesting methods.” He strolled casually around the room, glancing at their various projects.

“I thought only black cards used potions,” Mel said, his tone genuinely puzzled.

A girl, busy scribbling down formulas in a notebook, looked up briefly. “You black cards rely on magic and whatever innate gifts you were born with. We, on the other hand, get to create with the brains we were born with. No offense, of course,” she added with a smirk, pushing her glasses up her nose.

Mel blinked, momentarily thrown off. “Uh, none taken?”

She continued, her pen never stopping. “Though, as the only wizard here, it does make sense you’d know your way around potions. Right?”

The class murmured their agreement, a blend of respect and playful amusement filling the room. Mel chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. His eyes scanned the lively chaos of the classroom before settling back on the students.

“So… there’s no teacher?” Mel asked, lowering himself into a chair.

“Not for orientation, no,” a girl replied, her tone laced with exasperation. She leaned back against a desk, throwing her head back dramatically. “Honestly, I don’t think the wardens even want to teach us. White cards? They just sit around reading all day and get buried in homework. Us yellow cards? Nobody wants to teach mechanics. Everyone’s obsessed with fighting like we’re stuck in some medieval war story or something.”

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A few students laughed at her frustration, nodding in agreement. Mel raised an eyebrow. “So, you’re saying all of this…” He gestured to the scattered tools, bubbling potions, and half-built contraptions, “is self-taught?”

The girl smirked. “Pretty much. We’re on our own here, but that’s how the best inventors are made, right?”

Mel tilted his head, genuinely impressed. “That’s… awesome,” he said with a smile, earning a round of chuckles from the students.

Rue transferred herself from her wheelchair to a nearby chair, settling in comfortably. “The yellow cards are cool,” she said, gesturing to the room. “They don’t even teach this kind of stuff in the red or black card classes—just combat training all day.”

Mel plopped himself into her now-empty wheelchair, leaning back with a groan. “Speaking of fighting,” he began, “I’m pretty sure I’m out of Tier Three now. Breaking the stadium kinda seals the deal.”

The door suddenly swung open, and Elowen stepped inside. “Mel, I’ve been looking all over for you! What are you doing here?” she asked, her tone firm but not unkind.

Mel stood up from the wheelchair, scratching his head. “I thought I lost the challenge since I left,” he replied, his confusion evident.

The yellow cards immediately started whispering among themselves.

“That’s the daughter of the late King Arthur…”

“She’s got such a commanding aura.”

“Did you see that? Melanthius stood at attention the moment she walked in!”

Despite the murmurs, Elowen carried herself with unshakable poise, ignoring the commentary with effortless grace. Her presence seemed to light up the room.

“Come on,” she said, motioning for Mel to follow. “Since you destroyed the stadium, the headmasters decided to pass everyone from the matches. All they have to do now to make Tier Three is pass the exam.”

Mel blinked in surprise. “Wait, they passed everyone?” Elowen smirked slightly. “Apparently, rebuilding an entire stadium wasn’t on their schedule for the week.” Mel nodded and stood up, following her. “See ya later, Rue.” He patted her head and left.

"Yeah, just go ahead and steal him away..." Rue muttered under her breath, lowering her head to hide the flicker of frustration in her eyes.

Meanwhile, in the gym, the black cards were seated at desks, each with a stack of papers neatly placed in front of them. The tension in the air was palpable as they prepared for the next phase of their journey.

A short man with neatly cropped blonde hair, wearing a gleaming ring on his finger, stepped to the front of the room and spoke with a clipped tone. “You have exactly one hour to complete this test, after which you may proceed to lunch,” he announced, activating a timer on his holographic watch.

Elowen leaned over to Mel, keeping her voice low. “Isn’t that one of the guys who attacked you during the feast? Ban Hákon, right?”

Mel’s eyes narrowed as he glanced at the man. “Oh yeah, one of Thaddeus’s loyal lackeys,” he muttered, recalling the incident. “I wonder where his husband, Julius Hákon, is. Forced into marriage just to end a feud between families—what a miserable way to settle a grudge.”

As he spoke, he scribbled his name at the top of the paper, his mind already racing ahead to the questions on the test.

Terence groaned softly, glancing around before leaning over. “Psst, Melanthius!” he whispered urgently. Mel turned his head, raising a brow. “Yeah?” he whispered back. “Can I cheat off you?” Terence asked, shamelessly flashing a grin. “What?!” Mel hissed, clearly taken aback.

“How did you even get into the black cards if you’re not smart?!” Elowen interjected through gritted teeth, her whisper sharp enough to cut glass. She shot Terence a withering glare, her disbelief evident.

“I am smart! I just get test anxiety, okay?” Terence retorted defensively, crossing his arms like that settled the matter.

Arid clicked his tongue in disapproval, shaking his head. “Pathetic. You really have to cheat just to pass?” he scoffed, though his judgment was a bit undercut by the way his eyes kept darting toward Caius’s paper—already finished and neatly written.

Mel read the question quietly to himself, lips moving in a faint whisper. “You’re armed with a blunt weapon, and your opponent is wielding dual knives. What tactics would you employ to gain the upper hand?” His brow furrowed as he considered his response.

“Aren’t you like a weapons genius? It doesn’t even matter what weapon you have,” Elowen whispered, leaning closer. Without waiting for a reply, she began jotting her answer with confidence.

“I’d use the blunt weapon to channel my Lightning of Camelot attack,” she murmured while writing. “It’d be weaker without Excalibur, but it’d still get the job done.” She finished with a small stretch, cracking her fingers like she was ready for the next challenge.

Mel glanced at her response, then looked back at his own sheet. He picked up his pen and wrote a single word: Win.

There was no bravado in his answer, no cocky smirk or boastful flourish. It was simple, direct, and undeniably Mel.

Mel leaned closer to his test paper and whispered the next question under his breath: “You’re low on stamina but have access to a high-risk technique that drains life force. Do you use it? Why or why not? Provide a situational example.”

He paused, tapping his pen against the desk as he mulled it over. “Feels like the test is asking for personal judgment,” he thought aloud, his voice barely audible. “No right or wrong answer here.”

After a moment, he began writing. “I would use the technique if my opponent was about to kill me, leaving no other choice. For example, if I were cornered in a fight where survival meant protecting someone else, I’d take the risk.”

Mel set the pen down, his expression thoughtful. "I guess it’s not just about what you’d do, but why," he muttered to himself.

An hour later, the timer buzzed, jolting a few students who had dozed off. They groggily gathered their papers and shuffled to the front to turn them in, while others were already filing into the hallway.

Mel, Lumi, Caius, Sera, Elowen, Renita, Lincoln, and Arid walked together, their conversation filling the corridor.

“Thank the stars Mel destroyed the platform. They would’ve eaten me alive out there!” Lincoln exclaimed, his tone a mix of relief and lingering fear.

“I think I did okay on the test,” Arid muttered. He shot a glance at Caius and grumbled, “Not that I had much of a choice—Caius hid his paper, so I had to rely on my own answers!”

Elowen rolled her eyes, her voice carrying a hint of disdain. “A true black card wouldn’t need to cheat in the first place.”

Arid frowned but didn’t reply, while the group continued walking, the weight of the day slowly lifting.