The sun was beginning to peek over the horizon. If Mal wanted to remain under the cover of darkness, he would not have much time. Students would start to wake up, and he might attract a little more attention than he wanted to get.

  Of course, it would not take long for Mal to check.

  Mal held out his hand and shut his eyes.

  Spellcasting was, to some degree, based on practice and instinct. Your body learned how to more effectively warp and move mana through the core, and your core, in turn, grew stronger and more able to cast certain spells. The more you practiced them, the more the “grooves” worn by individual spells along the core allowed for easier spellcasting of that particular spell.

  Mal felt the flow of mana from outside. He gently pulled it into his body, passing it through his fingers, to his arms, to the center of his being, where his magic core resided. At the same time, he washed it of impurities.

  An uncomfortable prickling ran up and down his body. He frowned sharply.

  The mana hit his core and ground against the smooth, unused surface. It was uncomfortable, almost painful.

  Once he was done with that came the real work. He moved the mana in complex figures and patterns across his core.

  Sweat dripped from his forehead and down to the ground. His muscles were tense, and he was breathing in a shallow manner.

  After nearly ten minutes of painstaking, careful movement across his core’s surface, the tiniest Void Orb appeared in front of him.

  Mal opened his eyes and confirmed.

  A pure white void. The height of magic.

  Mal picked up a random stone and gently tossed it into the void.

  The rock disappeared—but so did the orb. With a quick plop, it popped like a balloon.

  Mal let out a sigh.

  It was better than he had been expecting, frankly. An F-grade core being able to cast something of such complexity at all? That was a miracle in and of itself.

  But at the end of the day, this was almost useless. There was no way that an enemy would simply sit around and wait for Mal to summon one of his orbs.

  And sure, Mal would probably be able to increase the speed—though that would take an absolute eternity—but Mal was doubtful he would be able to put much more power into it.

  Mal brought his hand up and bit on the knuckle of his thumb.

  There were ways to increase the strength of his core. He had dabbled in many of them. But all of the methods were expensive, time-consuming, or dangerous to Mal’s health and sanity. Oftentimes they were all three at the same time.

  Mal wasn’t going to be able to get a hold of a dragon heart anytime soon. That was simply not happening.

  So what was he going to do? Bide his time for the next several years, until the right opportunity came along? Absolutely not.

  Mal was not entirely sure what he was going to do, but he knew traditional spellcraft was more or less out the window.

  The question was, what would take its place?

  Potions were promising. Mal had been attracted to the glamour and raw power of spellcraft, but there was no denying that potions had their own power. And more importantly, they relied very little on the strength of one’s core.

  Mal glanced out of the corner of his eye back toward the dormitory. A few students were stepping out, and the sun was beginning to rise over the horizon.

  A faint blue glimmer caught his attention.

  A flower?

  He leaned down and took a sniff.

  Mana. Enough mana to destroy a small building. Enough mana to bring tears to his eyes and make him almost vomit.

  Then, in a blink, it was gone.

  His eyes fluttered, and he swallowed down the fluids that had been working their way up his throat.

  The flower had shriveled up. The vibrant blue petals had turned a dull, dead brown.

  Mal reached out and tapped it.

  The whole thing fell apart and evaporated into dust.

  In the place where it had once been was a single microscopic blue seed.

  Mal narrowed his eyes. He had never heard of any phenomenon like this. Was that mana some sort of delusion? Perhaps the flower had a defense mechanism of some sort, similar to how certain animals pretended to be other animals in order to trick a predator into believing that they were dangerous or venomous.

  Still, Mal thought, he would have heard of such a thing.

  Unsure what to do, he picked up the tiny blue seed and put it into his satchel.

  Who knew? Maybe he would take up gardening as a hobby.

  He turned and walked off toward the dormitory.

  Mal had just arrived back at the dorms when an older-looking student approached from the direction of the main building at the center of the campus. He looked bored, his back slouched and his eyes half-closed. His robes fluttering in the wind and a staff resting against his shoulder.

  He caught sight of Mal and nodded. “You’re up early.”

  “Force of habit.”

  A flicker of mischief crossed the older man’s face. “You’re lucky, then. Since you’re awake, this is gonna be a hell of a lot less annoying.”

  Mal blinked. What was the man going to do?

  The man raised his staff, and an entire cluster of bells appeared overhead.

  The man stuck out his tongue, and his eyes narrowed. He shook his staff back and forth, and the bells moved in time with his motion. Mal covered his ears. Even so, he could hear the near-deafening ring. The man was right—anybody who hadn’t seen him casting it would currently be having a miserable time.

  A student burst through one of the doors, red-faced, left eye twitching. He looked in the direction of the bells and stomped up to the older student.

  “What are you doing?” the boy shouted, spit flying. “It’s not even six o’clock!”

  The older student stared off to the side toward nothing and idly picked his ear with his pinky finger. “Yeah, and the examination starts at six a.m. So unless you want to be late . . .”

  At that, the boy paled.

  “I—I’ll get my clothes!”

  He ran off back into his room. From inside, Mal could hear frantic packing, the sounds of clothes being strewn all over the floor.

  “Not gonna change, little man?” the older student said. “Sure, it’s a nice enough dress shirt, but it’s clear that you slept in it. Never mind all the dust.” He grimaced. “Someone really needs to clean that place up.”

  Mal supposed he should have been offended by the nickname. At most, this was a fifth-year student, only twenty-two. Mal was mentally older and certainly more mature, given the horrific events he’d been through.

  But he could tell it wasn’t meant out of malice or condescension. The older student was simply calling him a silly title. No need to get up in arms over such a small thing.

  Mal shook his head. “No, the examiners aren’t going to judge us based on how clean-pressed our clothes are.”

  The older student tilted his head.

  “You sure about that?” he said. “You know, they won’t admit it, but they’re all watching. The alumni, the nobles, even the crown. If you don’t take the opportunity to show your stuff, you’re going to get forgotten.

  Mal blinked and registered the information in his mind. That would certainly change his approach.

  Last time he’d done this, he’d been under the assumption that everything was based off nothing more than an internal rubric, not this weird political crapshot the older student was implying.

  Did Mal really want to leave things up to chance? Exodi Academy had an enormous amount of resources that he needed to advance his magic, especially since he had decided that he probably wouldn’t be taking the traditional spell-crafting route. He needed their library. He needed their teachers. It would be a major setback if he had to go to another academy. It would also cost him time—potentially even months.

  Not to mention, scoring the lowest, as he had done, brought attention in and of itself. It contributed to a reputation that made him well-known on campus. He fit easily into an archetype, a slot: the worst student in the Academy. This gave him a certain type of infamy which he didn’t need in his second run through the academy.

  “Kid? Yo, you alive?” The older student snapped his fingers in front of Mal’s face. Mal jolted backward and looked up at the man with wide eyes.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” the man said. “You went quiet for nearly two whole minutes. Just standing there like a statue. What were you thinking of?”

  Mal scrambled for an answer. “Sorry, I was just thinking through what I was going to do with that information you gave me.”

  “Gotcha.” The man rested against his staff. “Hope it helps, little man. If you make it into the school, be sure to hunt me down at some point. I’d be happy to help you out if you have any trouble with your classes.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be sure to do that.”

  The older student held out his hand. “Norin.”

  Mal took it. “Malfrasius.”

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  After a second, Mal frowned. “Why did you help me, by the way?”

  “Us commoners have to stick together.”

  “I’m a duke’s son.”

  Norin stared. Then laughed. “Huh.”

  Norin looked behind Mal. A line of disheveled, tired-looking students stared vacantly off into the distance.

  Norin groaned and pressed his face into his palm.

  “First hero save me. What an absolutely miserable bunch.” He raised his voice. “Follow behind me! Don’t get lost, or you’ll get found and kicked out of the campus by the Keepers, and that would suck for you!”

  Mal fell in line. The group set off, following behind the older student. Off to the left and right, Mal saw that several other lines of students were joining in, also led by what Mal presumed to be older students as well. They weren’t all dressed the same—some had chosen to show up in a simple casual jacket and loose pants. A few were using wands. More than a handful had elected not to show up with any kind of foci at all.

  The towering, cathedral-like central building came into view. The central hall—equal parts a common area and a dining place—was by far the largest building on campus.

  The older student passed by the building without a second glance. A few students turned and looked at it longingly but quickly fell back in line and resumed following the student.

  After a few more minutes of walking, they arrived at a large open field where two professors stood.

  Mal felt an itch under his dress shirt. The introduction, right? And then…

  The exam.

  The older students brought Mal and the other examination attendees toward the middle of the field.

  There were a few familiar faces. Rolam chief among them. Hypode had shown up too, a bandage around his head and a few gossipping onlookers surrounding him. He growled and the gossipers shut up.

  At the center of the group, a wide circle had formed around a girl with blond hair and blue eyes. A necklace with the royal seal glimmered blue in the sunlight. She was dressed in riding pants and a short, functional tunic.

  Savaly Chama, second princess of the kingdom, and someone Mal would have to keep a close eye on. In some ways they were kindred spirits, both willing to do whatever it took to achieve their goals. In other ways, well...

  Mal wasn’t one to judge, but wasn’t executing your entire family a little extreme?

  She smiled at someone and they fainted on the spot. Mal shook his head. Beautiful though she may have been, even here in school she’d develop something of a spy network that would eventually cover the entire city. A terrifying woman.

  Norin turned toward them. “From here on out, Professors Igna and Vigil will be overseeing all of you. They will explain further how the exam works and what will be expected of you.” The older student’s eyes locked onto Mal’s, and Mal got the feeling that his next words were for him specifically. “Good luck.”

  The older students left the field and walked off toward parts unknown.

  Mal looked over in the direction of the professors. He recognized them. How could he not?

  The woman to the left gave a cheery smile. “Welcome, students. It’s such a pleasure to have all of you here.”

  She was dressed in dark black robes similar to those of the older students. Unlike the older students, she wore two gold sashes going from shoulder to shoulder, wrapping around her. Her face was thin and foxlike, her nose small and pointed. Despite the easy smile on her face, Mal couldn’t help but feel that her eyes seemed to cut through them like daggers.

  Professor Igna, Professor of Magic Theory and Spellcraft.

  Mal recalled facing her in battle a handful of times. Despite her constant smile, she’d been one of the most downright bloodthirsty individuals he’d ever encountered. At one point, when he’d managed to have her dead to rights, he’d offered her surrender. She proceeded to break down crying, and in the split second his guard was down, she pulled out a knife and attempted to stab him.

  If he’d been a split second slower, he would’ve had his neck cut to ribbons.

  Honestly, he kind of respected it.

  To her left, a man in a thick trench coat crossed his arms. As he shifted his body, Mal caught a glimpse of the space between his gloves and the long sleeves of his coat. His right arm shimmered with a metallic light. He adjusted his foot, and Mal caught the same light from his left leg.

  “Professor Igna,” he said. “Let’s not waste time with pleasantries.”

  Professor Vigil, if Mal remembered him correctly. Ex-army. A mage enforcer—or combat specialist, as most people knew the term. He’d been in some sort of accident, lost, if Mal remembered correctly, for several years, before he managed to miraculously return. He was then offered this job.

  Unfortunately, Mal didn’t remember seeing too much of the man. He was alread old at this current point in time, with graying, greasy hair and wrinkles framing his face.

  Mal’s attention was drawn back to the conversation. Both Igna and Vigil had been talking, but Mal was pretty sure it was about nothing important. Probably just Vigil continuing to scold Igna while Igna played dumb.

  “As you well know,” Igna said, “the practical examination is changed every year to prevent students from preparing for it in advance. Last year involved a miniature tournament. The year before that, you were assigned to take care of some magical beasts.”

  Vigil folded his arms behind his back. “This year, you will be heading to the Steel Forest, named for the infamous steel trees that populate it. Your mission will be to obtain an artifact from the depths of the forest and return it to the extraction point, marked by a bright white flag. During this time, you will have to contend with the various natural beasts that make their home there. The three main threats you will have to deal with are Razorsnakes, Ironwolves, and Tungstenbirds.”

  More than one student paled at the mention of the specific beasts they would be fighting. Mal wasn’t too worried—the school wouldn’t allow them to get killed.

  …probably. Accidents happen, after all.

  Still, it was surprising that they were willing to go to such extreme lengths. From what he remembered, both of those magical beasts were no laughing matter, especially for a bunch of inexperienced examinees. You would want to at least be a third year to confidently take on a Tungstenbird.

  “Professor! This is far too extreme! You can’t reasonably expect us to fight something like that!” someone in the back stammered out.

  Vigil’s eyes locked in on the person who’d said it, and Mal could feel the chilly glare even though he wasn’t the direct recipient. He reached his hands up and rubbed his arms to try to get some warmth back into them.

  Was it some sort of magic? Or was he just genuinely that intimidating?

  “I think,” Vigil said deliberately, as if tasting the words on his tongue. “That you fail to understand the situation that you are in.”

  Vigil turned his back on the students. His trench coat fluttered in the wind, making him look larger in volume than he actually was.

  “There was once a point when the consensus was that the forces of civilization were winning,” he said. “That it was simply a matter of time until we’d freed the world of the magical beast scourge. We even believed that we could take the Eastern Wastes from those abominations.”

  His voice hardened, and his shoulders tensed.

  “We all know how that went. There’s still a place and a role for the combat mage. As a graduate of Exodi, you will be expected for the foreseeable future to be prepared to take up arms in defense of whatever land is hosting you. You must be prepared to fulfill that role.”

  Mal looked from left to right to see that, several students seemed to be sincerely thinking it over, many looking down in thought, eyebrows furrowed together.

  Mal idly noted that Vigil had left out a key piece of information. Namely, that things were getting worse, not just that they’d come to a standstill. Demon incursions were rising, and magical beasts were getting stronger. Fast. The opposite of all their predictions.

  Of course, Mal knew that there was no way Vigil would tell a bunch of teenage students that. At the current moment, it was a well-kept secret among the absolute highest in authority. The panic that would be caused by the normal population knowing the truth would be disastrous.

  Vigil left the students in silence to stew. Igna leaned forward, a grin on her face.

  “And of course,” she said, “Exodi is first and foremost a combat-oriented school by nature. If you want somewhere safer, there are a number of other academies across the continent that would suit you better. There’s no shame in this. Not everyone is cut out for a role in battle.” Her tone turned soft. “If you have any doubt in your heart about whether this is the right place for you, I would encourage you to turn around and head back to the gate. Alumni are waiting to receive you and arrange transportation back home, if you don’t already have it prepared.”

  The reaction to her pronouncement was mixed. A few, like Mal, were completely unaffected by Vigil and Igna’s pronouncement. Some looked determined, a fire lighting up in their eyes.

  Mal noted that Rolam was one of these people.

  But the majority had a distinct look of nervousness on their. A few even had quivering knees.

  After several long seconds, one student turned around and started walking.

  After this, it was like the floodgates opened. The crowd of students shuffled and moved from side to side to allow the retreating students to pass through. One by one, these students left until about half had disappeared.

  Mal looked at the thinned-out crowd and shook his head. He didn’t blame any of the students per-se. If you weren’t cut out for combat, then you weren’t cut out for combat. That wouldn’t magically change just because you went to a combat-oriented school.

  But Exodi was known specificially for that sort of thing. Why would you sign up, take the written exam, then travel all the way here and not do the bare minimum of research to understand what the curriculum and focus would be? It didn’t make sense to Mal to see that level of ignorance on such an enormous scale.

  Igna seemed completely unbothered by the fact that half of her examinees had decided to turn around.

  “Now that that’s over with,” she said. “We can discuss the last topic.”

  Mal pushed the thoughts out of his mind and focused on what Igna was going to say. Though he remembered the broad strokes and big events, small details like this were beyond his ability to recall. It was important to pay attention where possible.

  “Your success in the exam will directly impact your success going forward.” Igna clapped her hands twice, and a visual diagram appeared behind her with the word “leaderboard” written out and underlined.

  There were a few gasps of shock and amazement. Mal, of course, could see what was happening—it was a simple illusion spell. The level of control was impressive, though.

  “Exodi Academy operates off the leaderboard.” Igna’s diagram created a list labeled one, two, and three, along with three different names that Mal didn’t care to remember. “Those with higher positions on the leaderboard gain better sleeping quarters, longer time in the library, and easier access to the professors.”

  Mal had to stifle a laugh. It reminded him of what the older student had told him—how those with resources accumulate more resources, and those without remain trapped.

  “Student, is there something funny about what I’m saying?”

  A few students glanced back at Mal with tight frowns.

  Oh, he thought. She’s talking to me.

  “No, Professor. My apologies,” he said.

  She smiled, and the tension broke. “Excellent. I hope that you’re all taking this seriously, as it will determine your future at this academy.”

  Vigil coughed. “Now, are there any questions?”

  One student raised her hand, and Vigil nodded at her. “You, with the bob cut.”

  “Will the headmaster be watching us?”

  “He will most likely be in attendance, yes.”

  A flurry of whispers broke out at the mention of the headmaster.

  “You know, he fought off an entire incursion by himself, right?” someone next to Mal whispered.

  “That’s nothing. He saved everybody retreating from the Eastern Wastes, all on his own.”

  Mal snorted. The hero worship was a bit much.

  It wasn’t like Puck didn’t deserve it, however. Behind that kindly wise man fa?ade was possibly the greatest strategic mind to ever grace Exodi Academy, even greater thatn the Princess. Mal had never had the opportunity to meet directly with the headmaster, but he didn’t need to. The two had dueled on the great chessboard of countries and armies. Negotiating alliances, moving legions from place to place—from what Mal understood, Headmaster Puck was the man behind it all.

  Without him, the heroine would’ve never been able to surpass Mal’s advantage in numbers. Even a Herald is no match against an entire army.

  The heroine may have been the tip of the spear, but the headmaster was the master warrior who maneuvered that spear into position.

  “Next question,” Vigil said.

  “The important part is getting the objective done, right?” a young girl asked. “That’s what determines pass or failure?”

  “The method by which you are scored is not your concern. Simply achieve the goal that we have assigned to you and do your best.”

  The girl nodded and fell back in line.

  If Mal didn’t know what the older student had told him, he would’ve assumed that what Vigil meant was that obtaining the artifact was the important part.

  “Any other questions?”

  “Professor?” a familiar voice said.

  Mal stood up on his tiptoes and looked in the direction of the familiar voice. It was Rolam. He had his hand up and a confused expression. Igna glanced over at him, smiled, and gave a kindly nod.

  “Well, this honorable one was just wondering, Professor—” Rolam tilted his head. “How are we going to get to the Steel Forest? It’s a day’s travel away. Are you just going to bring us there by carriage or—”

  Igna raised her hand to cover her mouth and laughed into it.

  “Oh, to be a young student once more.” The laughter died down, and she shook her head. “No, you’re already standing on the method of transportation we’ll be using.”

  Mal had always wondered about that. He knew what was about to happen, but the method had been a mystery to him back then. He looked down and narrowed his eyes.

  Some sort of chalk. There was a little bit of magic material on it—though he couldn’t name the specifics. The kind of chalk you would use for runes.

  Oh. That’s clever. They got us all in position using the fourth-year student guides. Well played.

  Rolam’s eyes widened. “What do you mean by that—”

  Igna shut her eyes and held out her hands. Her body glowed with an ethereal blue light, and the tips of her hair lifted up. A moment later, the chalk underneath Mal lit up. The rune that was underneath all the students glowed the same color as Igna’s form.

  A student next to Mal looked down in shock. “What the heck?”

  Another student scrambled backward through the crowd. Mal rolled his eyes. There was no way that student would get out. The size of the rune, based on the glowing in the distance, was absolutely enormous.

  Mal felt his molecules begin to disassemble. The glow increased to a brilliant shining flare. Murmurs of panic and fear ran through the crowd, more than one student looking at their hands in confusion.

  Mal shut his eyes and prepared for the familiar sensation of teleportation.

  The world popped, and Mal was no longer where he once was.

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