Chapter 242 242: Evaluation [1]
The morning sun filtered through the narrow gap in the dormitory curtains, hitting my face and dragging me out of a surprisingly deep, dreamless sleep.
I sat up, rolling my shoulders. There was no lingering ache in my ribs and no metallic taste of blood in my mouth. My mana core was humming steadily. For the first time in over a week, I actually felt like a normal person.
Then suddenly, a loud, obnoxious snore instantly shattered the quiet morning peace.
I looked across the room.
SNOOR!
Kyle was sprawled face-down on his mattress, his blankets tangled around his legs, completely dead to the world. One of his arms was dangling off the edge, his knuckles brushing the stone floor.
I threw my legs over the side of the bed, walked across the room, and delivered a swift, entirely unsympathetic punch directly to the back of his head.
Thwack!
"Ow!" Kyle violently jolted awake, his arms flailing as he nearly rolled right off the mattress.
He clutched his head, looking up at me with deeply betrayed green eyes.
"What the hell, Jin?! You couldn't just shake my shoulder?!"
"I could have," I replied deadpan, turning around to grab my fresh Academy uniform from the closet.
"But class starts in twenty minutes, and you sleep like a dead bear. Get up."
Kyle groaned, dramatically dragging himself out of bed.
Fifteen minutes later, we were practically sprinting down the polished stone corridors of the eastern academic wing. We slipped into our assigned magical theory classroom just as the warning bell chimed, quickly claiming two empty seats near the middle row.
The heavy oak door at the front of the room opened, and the Professor strode in. He was strict, a no-nonsense man with a perfectly trimmed gray beard, carrying a massive stack of syllabus parchments.
The ambient chatter in the room instantly died down.
Professor set his papers on the lectern, picking up a piece of white chalk.
"Welcome back, year one. I trust your holidays were restful, because the grace period of your preliminary studies is officially over. Today, we begin the practical applications of condensed elemental—"
BANG!
Suddenly, the heavy wooden door to the classroom violently slammed open, cutting the professor off mid-sentence.
Standing in the doorway was Emma.
But... Her usually neat chestnut-brown hair was a messy, windblown halo around her face, and her chest was heaving with frantic, ragged pants.
The bright blue eyes were wide with panic as she clutched the strap of her leather bookbag, completely out of breath.
"I-I'm so sorry, Professor!" She gasped, her face flushing a brilliant shade of crimson as the entire class turned to stare at her. "I completely lost track of time at the library!"
The Professor let out a slow, deeply unamused sigh, lowering his chalk.
"Take a seat, Miss Emma. And please endeavor to wear a watch in the future."
"Yes, sir," she squeaked.
And then hurried into the room.
Kyle immediately sat up straighter in the seat beside me, raising his hand to wave her over to the empty chair on his left.
He offered her a bright, welcoming smile.
Emma's blue eyes flicked toward our row. The moment she saw Kyle waving, she froze.
Her expression didn't just drop, it completely shattered. A flash of pure, unmistakable terror crossed her face.
She violently tore her gaze away from him, ducked her head, and practically sprinted to the very first row, slamming herself into a seat right in front of the professor's lectern. She didn't look back once.
Kyle slowly lowered his hand, his massive smile fading into an expression of profound, wounded confusion. He slumped back into his chair, looking like a kicked puppy.
I frowned, staring at the back of Emma's head. Sira hadn't been exaggerating yesterday.
"Let us resume," Professor announced, tapping his chalk sharply against the blackboard. "Open your texts to chapter four. We will be discussing the volatility of unstable mana structures."
I mechanically opened my textbook, picking up my quill. And diligently took notes as the professor droned on, but my mind was entirely focused on the girl sitting in the front row.
Her shoulders were tense, and her pen was practically carving through the parchment as she wrote.
...
The heavy chime of the academy bell finally echoed through the halls, signaling the end of magical theory.
Before Professor even finished dismissing the room, Emma was already moving. She shoved her textbook into her leather bag, practically vaulted out of her chair, and bolted through the heavy oak door before.
Kyle let out a pathetic, deflated sigh, letting his head thump against the wooden desk.
"I didn't even get to say hi."
"Give it time," I said, patting his shoulder as I stood up. "Come on. We have combat practicals next."
We joined the stream of students leaving the academic wing and heading out toward the open-air training pavilions.
The crisp morning air felt good after being cooped up in the stuffy lecture hall, but the atmosphere among the students was undeniably tense.
We filed into the massive, reinforced stone arena. Lined up against the far wall were racks of dulled training weapons, and the center of the grounds was marked with chalked sparring rings.
Standing dead center in the main ring was Professor Kael.
He was a mountain of a man with short, bristly hair and a jagged scar running down his jawline.
He wasn't wearing the standard, formal professor's attire; instead, he wore a simple, sleeveless dark tunic and heavy combat boots.
He was casually leaning his weight on a massive, dull-edged iron broadsword stuck point-first into the stone floor.
He waited until all forty of us were lined up on the edge of the ring before he spoke. His voice didn't boom, but it carried effortlessly across the open arena.
"Welcome back," Professor Kael said, his sharp eyes sweeping over the line of nervous students.
"I hope you all enjoyed your little holiday. I hope you ate well, slept in, and rested your muscles. Because starting today, that grace period is dead."
He easily pulled the heavy iron broadsword out of the stone with one hand and rested it on his shoulder.
"The academy requires a post-holiday evaluation," Kael continued, pacing slowly in front of us.
"I need to see exactly where your physical conditioning and mana control stand after a week away. I need to know who kept up with their forms, and who sat on a couch eating sweet buns."
Kyle visibly winced beside me, guiltily rubbing his stomach. "Geez, how does he know?"
"We are doing live-combat assessments," Kael announced, pointing his free hand toward the weapon racks.
"You will pair up. I will be walking between the rings, evaluating your speed, your form, and your reaction time. Do not hold back. If I see you pulling your punches, you fail for the day. Grab a weapon and find a partner."
The line immediately broke apart as students scrambled toward the racks.
Kyle let out a heavy breath, reaching over and grabbing two wooden training swords. He tossed one to me.
"Well, at least I get to spar with you. Go easy on me, alright? I'm still digesting breakfast."
Go easy on him? Huh?
I gripped the wooden hilt, my eyes darting toward the chalked ring. And quickly opened my cyan interface.
[Target: Self (Jin Raith) -> Modify Property: Physical Output]
[Execute Command: Restrict STR to 25 / Restrict AGI to 40]
Instantly, a heavy, suffocating sluggishness washed over my limbs. The explosive kinetic energy humming beneath my skin was forcibly clamped down, returning my physical chassis to the level of a perfectly average, unremarkable first-year student.
I let out a quiet breath, rolling my artificially weakened shoulders.
"Alright," I said, offering Kyle a confident smirk as we stepped into one of the empty rings.
"Let's see if those sweet buns slowed you down."