Chương 21: The Graduation Exam (8)

"The future belongs to those who ask one more question after everyone else leaves the room." – Stakkro Sottel, Head of the RAM Division of Korsivir Aloric pushed aside the flap and stepped into the final tent. After the open testing ground outside, where students kept vanishing and training posts kept appearing with soft rushes of displaced air, the inside of the final tent felt almost strangely calm. There was no chalk ring. No weapon rack. No illusion forest. No examiner waiting with a blade in hand.

Just a long wooden table placed across the far side of the tent, with two examiners seated behind it.

A few chairs had been set against one wall, while several measuring rods, rune-inscribed slates, blank scrolls, and narrow rune tags rested on the table. This was not a place for running or fighting. This was where they judged his control over mana. The two examiners looked up as he entered. One was a young man with sharp eyes and a relaxed smile, while the other was an older woman whose black hair had been tied back so tightly that it made her already severe face look even sterner.

The way she seemed to look through him rather than at him made Aloric guess she was probably from the Rudox clan. They were also wearing combat attire, and both had their rank-markers active on their inner left wrists. The man's marker glowed a dull yellow. Tarim. The woman's rank-marker glowed blue. Nourim. Aloric had seen both of them around the academy over the years, though neither had ever taught Classroom One. That was probably intentional.

It would be harder for examiners to favor students they had barely spoken to. The young Tarim glanced at the scroll in front of him.

"Aloric Sigast?"

"Yes, sir."

"Come forward." Aloric walked to the marked spot in front of the table, trying not to limp. His thigh still stung. His forearm still ached. The nausea from the substitution test had faded, but not completely. He could still feel a faint, unwelcome twist in his stomach whenever he moved too quickly. The older Nourim examiner looked him over. Her gaze paused on the dried blood near his sleeve and the cut on his leg.

"Only minor injuries, it seems," she said, looking unimpressed.

"You can stand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then you can take the test." Of course. The younger Tarim gave him a more reassuring smile.

"This section will test pure-mana control. First, form a ball of mana light above your palm. Maintain it as steadily as you can until we tell you to stop. Understood?" Aloric nodded. Pure-mana light. This was not a real combat technique. Not really. It was one of the few basic mana exercises that academy students were allowed to practice before graduation—even clanless students like him. It had little use in the field, according to Perilia.

A light glowing above your hand would only tell every enemy who was near exactly where to aim. But it proved something important—that a student could draw mana out, shape it, and hold it without losing control. If the mana destabilized badly enough, it could burn the hand. In worse cases, it could damage the mana network itself and leave the student needing weeks of treatment. Aloric formed the hand sign of Veka as neatly as he could with his aching fingers. He could do this. He had done it before. Not well, maybe.

But he had done it.

"Begin when ready," the Tarim said. Aloric closed his eyes. He ignored the pain in his arm. Ignored the old woman's condescending stare. Ignored the fact that this might be the test that dragged his final score low enough to ruin everything. He searched inward for the faint thread of mana moving through him. There. He found it after a moment and pulled the feeling toward his palm. Slowly. Carefully. Then he tried to push it outward, shaping it above his hand into a sphere. A weak glow appeared against his eyelids.

For one hopeful heartbeat, he thought he had it. He opened his eyes. One of the examiners had stepped closer with a measuring rod, though the disappointment on his face made the result clear before he could even ask. The ball of light floating a short distance in front of him was barely an inch across, its radiance so weak that it looked close to fading even while he actively fed it mana. Worse, it was not really a ball.

It wavered in the air like a blob of half-melted wax, stretching and shrinking with every uneven breath he took. Its edges flickered. One side bulged outward. The other collapsed inward. A few seconds later, his focus slipped, and the whole thing vanished. The tent seemed very quiet. The older woman's eyes narrowed.

"If that's all you can manage, you have no place standing inside this tent." Aloric's face heated. That old crone!

"I can do better!" he said quickly." Can you?" she asked.

"Because that was not a sphere. That was a misshapen lump pretending to glow." His fingers curled.

"It wasn't my best," he said, a little too loudly. The Tarim examiner raised a finger before the woman could continue. His eyes stayed on Aloric.

"Then prove it. You may try once more. Only once. Take your time and focus." Only once. The words tightened around Aloric's chest. If he failed here, he would not get another chance. Not today. Not in this exam. The written test had already gone badly enough. His combat test had been average at best. The substitution technique had worked, but only after making him look like he might puke in front of everyone. If he failed this too... No! He could not think like that right now. Aloric closed his eyes again.

He formed the hand sign of Veka once more, and tried to focus. Breathe. Find the thread of mana. It came faster this time, but it still felt slippery, like trying to hold water in his fingers. He gathered it toward his palm, forcing everything else away. The tent. The examiners. The cuts. The ache in his leg. The fear of failing. The thought of Perilia waking early to make him breakfast because she wanted him to have an extra hour to study. He could not fail after all that. He pushed harder. The mana resisted.

Or maybe he was the one resisting. He did not know. He had never known. Every time he tried to use mana properly, it felt as if something inside him narrowed the path, letting only a thin trickle pass no matter how hard he reached. It was not enough. Never enough. His hand trembled. Come on. Come on...! For a moment, an image flashed through his mind. A sieve. No, something stranger than that. Something deep inside him, filtering the mana before it could answer his call.

Every time he reached for power, only one thin thread slipped through, as if the rest had been caught behind an invisible mesh. But this time, as he strained, something shifted. Not broke. Not truly. Just... opened. A few more tiny gaps appeared in that unseen filter, and through them came more threads than before. Aloric's breath caught. A sudden warmth rushed down his arm. The light against his closed eyelids grew brighter. And brighter. And brighter.

"Enough," the Tarim examiner said sharply.

"Aloric, stop!" Aloric's eyes snapped open. The Tarim rose so quickly his chair scraped against the ground, picking up one of the measuring rods as he approached the mana ball. Aloric looked at the space in front of him. A sphere of light hovered there. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. A real sphere. Smooth, steady, and far larger than anything he had ever made before. It was not just a weak glow wobbling in the air.

It was a clear ball of pure-mana light, nearly three feet across, bright enough to fill the inside of the tent and throw shadows behind the examiners' chairs. For a heartbeat, Aloric thought he saw something deeper inside it. Threads of color. Red. Blue. White. Green. Yellow. For the briefest instant, he even thought he saw a thin black thread twisting through the center before it vanished. Then the brightness stabbed at his eyes, and he looked away, blinking hard. Had he imagined all that?

The examiners looked surprised, but maybe that was only because of the size of the mana ball. Maybe no one else had seen those strange colors at all. The old crone had gone still. The Tarim examiner was staring too, his rod held motionless near the mana ball, and his relaxed smile gone for the first time since Aloric had entered the tent. He exchanged a quick look with the older woman, and for one strange moment, Aloric felt as if he had done something they had not expected from him.

Or something he wasn't supposed to do.

"Cut the mana," the Tarim said, as he moved back to his chair. Aloric obeyed. The sphere vanished at once. The tent returned to the dimmer light of the covered lanterns hanging from the poles. Aloric lowered his hand slowly, staring at them. Well, that was weird... Such a thing had never happened before. Not even once. Even during all the practice he had forced himself through over the past few days, he had never made anything like that. Never that bright. Never that big. Never that easy, after it started.

What had changed? The image of the sieve rose in his thoughts again. Those tiny openings... Those strange threads... He did not understand it. He wasn't sure he wanted to. The male examiner wrote something down on his scroll.

"Excellent. That was a strong demonstration of pure-mana projection and shape control." The older woman's mouth tightened, but even she gave a short nod.

"Second attempt was... acceptable." Acceptable? Aloric almost laughed. If that was only acceptable, he had no idea what these examiners even wanted from him. But he kept his mouth shut.

"Now," the Tarim continued, "the final part of this test is optional for most students, especially those without clan training. Do you have any special technique, unusual skill, or unique application of mana you can demonstrate for bonus marks?" Aloric blinked.

"What?" The older woman watched him without expression. The Tarim repeated patiently, "Any additional mana technique or skill. Offensive, defensive, sensory, movement-related, shaping-related, rune-related. Anything that would set you apart." Aloric stared at him.

"But mana techniques aren't even taught in the academy..."

"Not advanced ones," the Tarim said.

"I mean... we weren't taught any real techniques!"

"No," the old crone smirked.

"Most of you were not." Aloric's confusion deepened. Of course the clans must have taught their children extra things in private, things the academy never taught everyone else. But she knew he didn't belong to a clan. The Tarim leaned back slightly.

"It does not have to be an actual mana technique. Earlier today, one of the students from your class demonstrated unusually strong mana-sensing ability and received full marks for this bonus section. Another student showed a good example of a rune-barrier formation. A few clan students have also demonstrated some family-taught techniques or useful mana control exercises." Aloric was stunned. There was a mana sensor in their class? They were supposed to be extremely rare. Who the heck was it?

And an academy student knew how to make a rune-barrier? For a moment, Aloric tried to think through his classmates, but nothing obvious came to mind. Then the rest of the Tarim's words settled in. Clan students. Family-taught techniques. Of course... Aloric's hands curled slightly at his sides. He had no clan. No private tutors. No compound training hall. No family scrolls.

He did not even know his mana affinity yet, because academy students were told their affinities only after graduation, so they would not ruin their basics by focusing too early on their mana type's specific techniques. Perilia might have taught him more if she had time. If she had been allowed to. If Aloric had been in a position where the city did not treat unregistered mana users like a rune tag ready to explode. But he hadn't been. So what was he supposed to show? The older woman tilted her head.

"You are not from a clan, correct?"

"No, ma'am."

"Then you understand how badly this can affect your results." Aloric's jaw tightened. She continued, "Students from clans are often better prepared. They have relatives who know what to teach, private training grounds to use, and access to knowledge you do not. If you wanted to overcome that gap, surely you must have tried something."" Tried something?" Aloric asked slowly.

"Some clanless students sneak into the city's manaweaver library before they are allowed to enter," she said.

"Others steal glances at clan scrolls, bribe servants, break into compounds, or learn a technique from someone willing to ignore the law. Dangerous, yes. Illegal, certainly. But effort often requires risk." Aloric stared at her. The Tarim examiner said nothing. The old crone's eyes remained fixed on him.

"So? Did you learn anything useful that way? A mud clone? Even a basic barrier? A shaping trick? A quick movement technique? Anything at all?" For a moment, Aloric could not even answer. Was she serious? He looked from her to the Tarim, trying to understand whether this was some kind of trick. The young man's expression had become unreadable. The older woman sighed.

"Or did you waste your academy years knowing you were far behind the clan children and still did nothing to change it?" Heat rose up Aloric's neck.

"I studied hard for my marks," he said.

"Poorly, judging by how worried you looked when you came in." His fingers dug into his palms.

"But I trained as much as I could!"

"Enough to scrape through, perhaps." Something inside him flared. The old crone did not know him! She did not know how hard he had tried! She did not know what it felt like to stare at the same page until his head felt ready to split and the words blurred together. She was from a clan. She did not know what it was like to stand beside clan kids who had everything prepared for them before they were even born, while knowing he would never have that. The older woman leaned back.

"If you had broken into the manaweaver library and learned even one useful technique, this would be the time to show it. These bonus marks can make a difference between passing the exams or failing them. Especially for clanless students like you." Aloric's breath came a little harder. The manaweaver library. Only registered manaweavers were allowed there. He knew that. Everyone knew that. Sneaking in before graduation was illegal. Breaking into a clan compound would be worse. Perilia worked for the City Police.

If he had done anything like that, she would have dragged him by the ear to the nearest officer herself before the academy ever found out.

"No," he said. The older woman's brows rose slightly.

"No?"

"No, I didn't sneak into the library. I didn't break into any clan compounds either."

"Even though it might have helped you?"

"Yes!"

"Why?"

"Because it's illegal. Because it's wrong." The woman's gaze sharpened.

"Is that all?"

"No," Aloric said, anger pushing the words out now.

"Because that's not what we're supposed to do. Because my sister works in the City Police, and she taught me better than that. Because being clanless doesn't mean I have to become a thief just to prove I'm trying!" The tent went still. Aloric knew he should stop. He did not.

"And it's not a flaw that I wasn't born in a clan," he said, his voice rising despite himself.

"It's not a flaw that I'm an orphan either. My sister raised me well enough, even if she had to sacrifice more than any sister should need to. So yes, I don't have clan techniques. I don't have private scrolls. I don't have tutors waiting at home. I don't even know my mana affinity yet. But I've done my best with what I had, and I still believe I've done enough to graduate." His chest rose and fell as he breathed harder. Then, quieter, he added, "Even if barely..."

The silence lasted long enough for him to realize what he had just done. He had an outburst in front of the examiners. During the graduation exam. Wonderful... There went whatever little chance he had of getting decent marks. Then something even weirder than him making a perfect ball of mana light happened. The Tarim examiner was grinning. Aloric stared at him. The older woman was smiling too, though hers was smaller and looked far more reluctant. Still, it was there.

"What...?" Aloric looked between them.

"What's going on?" The Tarim didn't stop smiling.

"That was a good answer." Aloric's confusion turned to suspicion.

"Good?"

"Yes. We were testing whether you would admit to using illegal methods or try to justify them." Aloric pointed at the older woman with more accusation in his expression than was probably wise.

"But she told me I should have done it."

"I implied it," the older woman said.

"There is a difference." Aloric stared at her. The Tarim's smile grew faintly amused.

"Some students do break the law to learn mana techniques before graduation. Some steal from clan archives. Some sneak into restricted sections of the manaweaver library. Some are taught by people who should know better. This part of the exam gives them a chance to reveal it themselves before deeper background checks find it later." The Tarim shrugged.

"Those who admit it honestly usually face lighter consequences than those who try to hide it after scoring high enough to pass." Aloric felt a chill go through him.

"What happens if they admit it?"

"That depends on what they learned, where they learned it, and who helped them," the Tarim said.

"A minor violation may cost them graduation. Serious theft of restricted techniques can lead to interrogation by SABLE's counterintelligence section." SABLE. Aloric knew enough about that word for his anger to drain away. The City Police dealt with ordinary crimes. Theft. Fights. Fraud. Local trouble. Perilia had mentioned that much often enough. But he had also heard rumors from her about SABLE operatives—the ones who worked in shadows and made sure spies did not remain alive in Korsivir for long.

The older woman folded her hands on the table.

"Korsivir has no use for manaweavers who think breaking the law is acceptable as long as it benefits them. The city stands above any one person's ambition." Aloric nodded slowly. He understood that. He also understood the unfairness still sitting beneath it. Clan students could learn useful things legally because their families already had access. Because they were not treated as security risks before they even graduated.

Clanless students who tried to catch up too aggressively risked being branded as criminals before they even graduated. But saying that aloud would not help him. The Tarim glanced at the older woman, then back at Aloric.

"For the record, this is still a real bonus section. If you had a legal skill to demonstrate, we would mark it. Mana sensing, barrier generation, rune knowledge, advanced pure-mana shaping, anything useful. But the city also needs to know whether future manaweavers are willing to cross lines they should not cross." Aloric nodded. He had no bonus technique. No hidden skill. No secret knowledge. Nothing. The Tarim looked back at the scroll.

"No bonus technique to demonstrate, then?" Aloric shook his head.

"No, sir."

"Very well." He made a final note.

"Mana control test completed. Bonus section: none demonstrated. Conduct response: satisfactory." Satisfactory. That was better than terrible. Probably. The older woman leaned back in her chair.

"If you graduate, your instructor will test your mana affinity and begin teaching you how to use real mana techniques. Until then, do not try to prove your cleverness by doing something that will make us regret giving you a chance."

"I won't," Aloric said quickly.

"Good." The Tarim nodded toward the exit flap at the side of the tent.

"Your graduation exam is complete. Report to the medical tent if you need treatment, then proceed to the waiting area outside for your class teacher to arrive." For a heartbeat, Aloric did not move. Complete. All his tests were complete. Written. Combat. Accuracy. Coordination. Substitution. Pure mana. All of it. He had done everything. Maybe badly in some places. Maybe only decently in others. Maybe not nearly enough to earn a good rank. But he had reached the end. He bowed his head slightly.

"Thank you, examiners." The Tarim gave a small nod. The older woman only waved one hand, as if dismissing him. Aloric turned toward the exit, his body aching in several places and his mind still tangled around the impossible sphere of light he had created. That sieve. Those tiny openings. Those strange threads of mana he could not understand. He pushed the thought away. One problem at a time. Aloric stepped through the tent flap and exited into the open field.