The hall designated for Division D was a rectangular stone chamber with high ceilings and enchanted chandeliers that floated midair. Ancient columns lined the sides, etched with runes that shimmered faintly, their function unknown but undoubtedly powerful. Hundreds of wooden desks stretched from end to end, each equidistant and facing a massive blackboard that displayed the current time and examination status.
Alden stepped through the threshold slowly, his boots echoing off the polished stone. Though he'd studied tirelessly, his pulse quickened with every step. Each desk already held a single item: the aether tablet, a relic of magical technology that could simulate paper, call upon memory-scribed books, and record answers with thought-impressions rather than ink.
It was the first time Alden had ever seen one up close.
He took his assigned seat—Row 11, Seat 7—and sat down, careful not to make noise. Around him, others were fidgeting, whispering to themselves, or looking around wide-eyed. A few had closed their eyes, already slipping into meditation to calm their nerves. Alden spotted two nobles sharing a nod across the room, subtly forming alliances even before the test began.
A loud chime echoed across the chamber, followed by a ripple of energy through the floor that made the hairs on his arms stand on end. A tall woman entered the room—clearly a professor. Her silver robe shimmered like moonlight, and a sapphire ring glowed on her finger.
"I am Instructor Maelis," she said, her voice amplified magically. "This is the first examination: Theory and Knowledge—comprised of elemental understanding, historical context, battle strategy, aether principles, alchemic basics, and academy regulations."
A murmur rolled across the hall at the breadth of subjects.
"You will have four hours. No vocal communication. No use of aether. The tablet will monitor both your heart rate and brain activity—cheating will result in instant disqualification."
Another chime. The tablets lit up, glowing faintly with blue sigils. A soft hum filled the air as each screen shimmered with the first question.
Alden took a deep breath and placed his hand on the tablet. The surface reacted immediately, syncing with his aether signature and opening the exam interface.
Question 1:
Describe the primary differences between aetheric manipulation and elemental invocation. Include two examples of applied use in combat scenarios.
Alden almost smiled.
This was one of the first things he'd studied—his mentor had drilled the distinction into him for weeks. He whispered the thoughts mentally, and the tablet recorded them through thought resonance, the runes glowing with each sentence.
"Aetheric manipulation refers to the raw shaping of life energy, unaligned to elements, capable of enhancing the body or disrupting energies. Elemental invocation is the summoning of natural forces—fire, ice, wind—through structured aether signatures…"
He continued, giving examples:– Aether to strengthen muscle tissue mid-combat (Body Reinforcement).– Fire invocation to create a radial blast against multiple enemies.
The tablet glowed in approval. Alden's confidence grew.
The next few questions came faster:
The founding year of Ironhold (199 A.E.).
The Battle of Seven Graves and why aether shields failed there.
The purpose of transmutation circles in stabilized alchemy.
Each answer flowed smoother than the last, and Alden could feel the black angel's circle whirring gently in his mind—its memory web enhancing his recall.
But then came Question 18:
Describe the impact of aether corruption on high-level spellcasters, and propose a theoretical ritual to mitigate its long-term psychological effects.
He froze.
This hadn't been covered in detail in his village textbooks. Alden tried to recall fragments of what his mentor had said during a stray conversation—something about residual echoes from the aether void affecting consciousness.
He swallowed and focused.
"Aether corruption, also called 'echo degradation', occurs when prolonged exposure to unstable or corrupted aether causes mental fractures. Symptoms include dissociation, delusions, or loss of elemental alignment…"
He paused, then improvised the rest.
"A theoretical ritual might involve a tri-seal purification using nature-aspected aether, combined with mental anchors—items with sentimental grounding value—to stabilize memory patterns…"
He wasn't sure if it was right, but it felt plausible. The tablet did not reject the entry.
Around him, several students were visibly sweating. One boy four rows down clutched his head as his tablet dimmed—disqualified. A second later, he was escorted out by two proctors in grey cloaks.
Alden returned his focus to the questions. Some were deceptive in wording, and a few demanded long, logical chains—especially the ones on combat formations. But his study had paid off. The martial theory section asked for a full breakdown of counter strategies against dual-weapon users, and Alden gave an example of a sparring match with a twin-blade user in his village. Specificity mattered.
Hours passed like minutes.
By the time Alden reached the final question—an essay on the ethics of soul-binding alchemy—his mind was straining. He wrote carefully, citing the infamous "Klarin Incident" where bound spirits had revolted.
Then, with only five minutes left, the tablet's surface dimmed. A final prompt appeared:
Would you like to submit your exam? Confirm with thought.
He hesitated—not because he doubted his answers, but because this moment felt final. The first trial, his first real step toward Ironhold, was coming to a close.
Confirm.
The screen faded, and a sense of release flooded through him.
As he stepped outside into the crisp air, sunlight warming his face, Alden felt drained—but satisfied. He knew he hadn't been perfect, but he had held his own. Dozens of others poured out behind him, some arguing about specific questions, others silent with shellshock.
Alden, for his part, stayed quiet.
He walked back toward the inn, passing a few others from his division. One boy, thick glasses and shaking hands, clutched his forehead.
"It was nothing like I expected," the boy muttered. "The ethics question? I froze. I swear I forgot my own name halfway through."
Alden nodded in sympathy but kept walking.
As he reached the main market, he stopped for a moment near a fruit stand. The scent of citrus and baked dough calmed his nerves. He bought a tart fruit bun and sat under the shade of a cloth awning.
Tomorrow, the real challenge would begin.
Combat. Aether. Monsters.