The examination hall thrummed with raw, unfiltered arcane energy. Rows of students stood before the grand dais where a panel of judges watched in silence, their robes embroidered with the intricate sigils of the spellcasting department. The air smelled of ozone and old parchment, the scent of centuries of magic lingering in the very walls.
This was the Second Trial—a test of pure spellcraft, where a mage's reflexes, control, and raw talent were laid bare.
The rules were simple: Cast a complex spell within a minute—no incantations, no sigils, no prior preparation.
It was a brutal test, designed to weed out those who relied too much on structured casting. Here, instinct and mastery took precedence over theory. A single moment of hesitation, a misplaced surge of mana, and failure was inevitable.
One by one, the students were called forward.
The first, a boy with trembling hands, attempted to summon a defensive barrier. The magic wove itself together in a crude, jagged shape before shattering under its own instability. A failed attempt.
Another student, a girl with keen focus, formed a sphere of lightning between her palms, sending it hurtling toward the target dummy at the back of the hall. The spell struck true, sending a sharp crack echoing through the room. She stepped back, her face impassive, as the judges nodded in approval.
More followed—some succeeding, others faltering under the immense pressure.
Kalem watched.
He stood near the back, arms crossed, observing each attempt with quiet scrutiny. Unlike most, he wasn't here to be tested. Instead, he was here to study.
Magic had always fascinated him, not for its power, but for how it was processed—how users structured and executed spells under pressure. It was, in a way, another form of engineering—a system of energy manipulation that followed rules, even if those rules weren't yet fully understood.
As the trial continued, he made mental notes.
Some mages relied on visualization. Their hands moved instinctively, as if guiding the spell into shape.
Others worked purely by will. Their magic erupted the moment they focused, seamless and instinctive.
The best among them displayed no excess movement, no wasted energy. Their spells simply happened.
And then, the room grew colder.
It was Isolde's turn.
The white-haired spellcaster stepped forward, her usual grace slightly stiff as she raised her hands. Her ice-blue eyes burned with focus, a sharp contrast to the near-translucent pallor of her skin.
Kalem frowned. She looked worse than before.
He wasn't the only one who noticed. A few students exchanged glances, muttering under their breath. The intensity of the training was clearly taking a toll on her.
Still, Isolde showed no hesitation. The moment the judge signaled for her to begin, she moved.
No words. No chants. Only action.
Frost erupted from her palms, coalescing in an instant. An ice construct formed in mid-air, sharp and intricate.
It wasn't just a simple spell.
It was sculpted.
The temperature in the room plummeted as the construct solidified—a frozen replica of the judge's desk, crafted in perfect detail. Every groove, every imperfection of the original was captured in crystalline ice, as if it had been frozen in time rather than created from scratch.
A masterpiece of precision.
For a brief moment, silence reigned.
Then—a crack.
Isolde flinched. Her hands were turning blue.
The frost spread up her wrists, her breath visibly misting in the air. She clenched her jaw, suppressing a shiver, but the strain was obvious.
She was overusing her magic.
Kalem felt a prickle of unease. He had seen this before—magi pushing themselves beyond their limits, chasing perfection at the cost of their own health.
Isolde barely held her stance, keeping herself composed as the judges examined her work.
"…Pass."
It was a quiet word, but it carried weight. She had succeeded—but it was clear she had paid a price.
Isolde exhaled slowly, lowering her hands. The frost withdrew at a sluggish pace, leaving behind a faint tremor in her fingers.
She turned away before anyone could comment, walking back to her place among the students, her expression unreadable.
Kalem glanced at her but said nothing. He knew better than to ask.
The trial continued.
As the last student finished, the judges finally spoke.
"The top-performing students may now select three advanced spell formulas."
The tension in the room shifted.
This was important.
The spell formulas weren't just random techniques. They were gateways—keys to advanced magic that could shape the future of a mage's career.
Some spells were rare, lost to time. Others were practical, refined over generations. But only a handful could be taken.
Debate broke out immediately.
"Which ones are even worth it?"
"The Resonance Ward formula is a must—especially if you plan on going into artifact creation."
"No, the Mirror Echo spell is better. Instant duplication of cast spells? That's an advantage in duels."
"You're thinking too small. The Arcane Disruption formula is the most valuable—it can cancel out weaker spells mid-cast."
Arguments flared. Some students weighed combat utility, others considered long-term applications.
Kalem listened.
He wasn't a spellcaster in the traditional sense, but he understood strategy. The right selection could mean the difference between a talented mage and a forgotten one.
Isolde, still silent, glanced at the list. Her gaze flickered over the choices before she made her decision.
She took:
Glacial Veil – A technique that layered an ice barrier over the skin, allowing for both offense and defense. Mana Efficiency Sequencing – A rare formula designed to reduce mana expenditure while casting. Silent Frost Manifestation – A refinement of her existing abilities, allowing her to form ice constructs without revealing her mana signature.
Practical. Efficient. Dangerous.
Kalem smirked. Typical Isolde.
The selection process wrapped up, and as the students filtered out of the hall, conversations continued.
Some were satisfied. Others were already thinking ahead.
But a lingering thought remained in the air.
This wasn't just a test.
It was a filter.
Some had been marked.
The academy wasn't just training mages.
It was choosing them.