For the likes of me, I couldn’t find out what was going on.
It was just 500 Reputation, right? -1000 for some of the other ones, but it can’t be that bad. I mean, I lost 1000 Reputation with Hary in just an hour or so!
Well, that night, I asked my friends what the Magus Circle was.
“Why?” Chad asked.
“I lost Reputation with them,” I told them.
Chad stopped munching on popcorn, Waras stopped trying to flirt with Beatrice, and Beatrice stopped shoving Waras into Chad’s popcorn. And, as one unit, they said, disbelievingly, “What?”
“Who are they?” I asked.
“I thought you knew. It’s why most people go into this Academy in the first place,” Beatrice casually commented.
“Why?” I asked, genuinely confused.
“To be a Verified Magus! It’s the dream of many Novice Magi to be chosen by the Magus Circle to Delve into a Dungeon, return triumphant, then become a Verified Magus capable of wielding even Tier 4 Spells,” Chad said dreamily. “Many, many people go to this Academy for this, some even traveling from faraway places, a handful even arrived from beyond the A’dreya Continent!”
Oh, no indeed.
A few months after that potentially catastrophic incident, I noticed a poster on the wall of the corridor outside our dorm that said:
“Well, this isn’t so bad- I just have to not fail!” I confidently told Sarah.
“Just have to not fail? You know how many people hope to become a Verified Magus? Look at how many people there are at this Academy! You know how many out of this seven or eight hundred will even pass the Finals? Ten, maybe twenty, if things go well. One Verified Magus will be borne out of them, maybe two, but never more than that. This Academy has gone years without getting a single Verified Magus before, and it has the possibility to happen this year, as well. In the whole of the Realities, there might be 20000, maybe less, maybe more, Verified Magi- and you hope to become one in a year?”
I didn’t really have anything to say to that. “Yeah.”
I didn’t realize you could mentally facepalm.
“So, what are your thoughts on the Finals? Who do you think will win the Ranking?” Waras said that night.
“I’m going to the Finals,” I said absent-mindedly.
“Okay, so- wait what did you say?” Waras said, shocked.
“Everlon, you can’t go! If you fail the Finals, you’ll be expelled from the Academy!” Beatrice cried.
Only Chad seemed unruffled. “So? I’m going too.”
“You can’t! You’ll fail in the first Ranking!” Beatrice was shocked even further.
“We’ll see,” Chad mumbled.
One week before the Ranking, I received the information about the finals, in the form of another poster in the corridor:
That meant that I would have to do eight tasks. “How is this fair?” I complained to Waras.
“Well,” he said, “if you have more Attunements, you will have a bigger variety of Spells. And if you have a bigger variety of Spells, you are more powerful. So, actually, it is better to have more elements.
Soon, it was time for the Ranking.
The day has finally come. I walked into the Atrium to see a crowd of people, talking amongst themselves, surely making bets of who would win and who would not.
“Welcome! Welcome!” This was the first time I had seen the Headmaster of the Academy in person. He was a tall, wizened old man, with a long, wispy beard. You would think he was pulled straight out of a Harry Potter film if he wasn’t hobbling on his staff. He motioned to a small, white cube and said: “Please Inspect this item for the details.”
I looked over the names of the ranks one more time, to make sure there was no mistake. Verizon clearly was a rank, and I didn’t think it was a coincidence. However, to be placed ahead of astral entities like the Sun and the Moon… what was my class?
“Think ‘Description’ to call up Class descriptions,” Sarah said helpfully.
Well, that went dramatic quick. I had no time to think about the implications of this, though, as the Headmaster called us all over to the center of the Atrium.
“The first test starts in five seconds,” he told us, “good luck to you all.”
I landed on a smooth, black surface. Strange. I didn’t remember falling. In front of me was a giant stone lion of some sort. I used Inspect, then frowned when it was ineffective. Then, I remembered something. In the tales my mother used to tell me, there was a creature amongst the mythical animals that couldn’t be harmed by the dragons because they required intelligence and trickery to defeat. And it was the Sphinx. I used Analyze.
“Welcome, young mortal,” the Sphinx boomed, “I am the Riddlemaster. Answer my riddles, and you shall proceed. If you are unable to answer, I will- will- GRARH! I hate this tether connecting me to my Master. If you are unable to answer,” at this, his voice suddenly changing to become a flat monotone, “press the button to the right.” He shook his head, then continued in his normal voice, “First of all, if you go to a play and you're paying, is it cheaper to take one friend to the play twice, or two friends to the play at the same time?
I thought for a moment, then I realized. If I was to take one friend to the play twice, I had to go twice as well! “Two friends to the play at the same time.”
“Very good,” the Sphinx rumbled. “My next question shall be, you buy me to eat, but you never eat me. What am I?”
I sighed. This was going to take a while.
Finally, it was the last question. “A man went on a trip with a fox, a goose and a sack of corn. He came upon a stream which he had to cross and found a tiny boat to use to cross the stream. He could only take himself and one other - the fox, the goose, or the corn - one at a time. He could not leave the fox alone with the goose or the goose alone with the corn. How does he get all safely over the stream?”
This was more difficult than anything I have done before. I thought for an hour, running simulations in my head, when I replied; “The goose goes with the man, then the man comes back and grabs the fox; afterwards, after dropping the fox off, the man grabs the goose, then goes back to grab the corn, then drops the corn off, then goes back for the goose, then everybody is on the same side.”
“Congratulations!” The Sphinx boomed, pleased. “You get full marks!”
In the second test, I was placed in the first division, alongside three of my peers that had decided they were ready. I looked up at the screen. Luckily, I didn’t have to fight Chad. My opponent was somebody named Craw, who was a tall, freckled youth. I stepped onto the ring and shook his hand. As soon as the referee yelled, “Begin!”, three things happened.
Firstly, Chad started fighting as well. Secondly, the spectators cheered. And thirdly, Craw went flying out of the ring and into the spectator stands.
Suddenly, three more things happened:
Firstly, Chad’s opponent flew to the opposite corner of the arena. Secondly, the audience stopped cheering and started moving away from the unlucky members of the audience who got squished by a flying body. And thirdly, the referee yelled, “-in!”
The rest of the opponents in the first five divisions were more of the same. In the sixth, however, things started being slightly harder. Chad was no longer able to kill his opponents with one blow, and I was starting to slow down a little. By the eighth round, Chad was even with his opponent, and I was no longer able to finish my opponents with one hit. Chad was out on the ninth round, but I was still going. Finally, I arrived at the tenth round.
My opponent was a huge, hulking giant named Vortuzz. I first used Aerial Blades to wound him slightly, then used Earthquake to slightly slow his movements. He swung his club at me. I dodged, then cast a Fireball, ending the fight.
Suddenly, everything went black.
Headmaster Vener Zaemon frowned as the entirety of the simulation’s circuits collapsed in a sizzling pile of slag and green sparks. He checked the log on what was left of the simulation to see what went wrong. The rear wing coolant bottle was suspiciously missing. He sighed, then reluctantly stood up. He was going to have to make a speech about how the Rankings thus far was going to decide their Ranks, blah blah blah, add in something about how the Finals were going to proceed with the simulation being a superheated puddle of metal, and maybe a closing statement or two.
Duke Chew leaned back, pleased with himself. After all, if his son died before getting into this academy, nobody was getting into the Academy. Or was it graduate from this Academy? It must have been. Did he just say Academy? What Academy? What a ridiculous thought! Duke Chew took a swig from his new beer. It said “Coolant”. Must have been a new brand, he thought. Now, for that door his son died before he could get through. Was it a door? No, it must have been a floor. Door, floor, whatever. The only difference was that floors could be walked through, when doors were for standing on. Or was it the other way? It mustn’t have been. After all, he was Cuke Dew, and he never mixed anything up!
Chapter Length
