Chapter 274 (Patreon)

By the time Kana and the others arrived at the assessment grounds the next day, the atmosphere had already changed. The stories were no longer rumors passed in hushed tones but lived experiences, carried out of the testing hall by the first-year examinees themselves. Snatches of conversation drifted through the crowd—frantic, disbelieving, sharp with lingering adrenaline.

“They were real monsters…”

“I thought I was done for…”

“They healed it, but it still hurts…”

“That wasn’t normal…”

Kana listened without turning her head, she had no choice anyway, all thanks to her [High Awareness], her attention fixed forward while her mind quietly sorted through the fragments. Dangerous, then. Not recklessly so, but close enough that mistakes would cost something real but more on the mental part, not really physical. That made sense. If the goal was to force out hidden ability, then comfort had to be removed.

The crowd was still thick, though noticeably thinner than the day before. The curious adults had mostly disappeared, likely satisfied or unsettled by what they had heard. What remained were students and a few watchful figures—parents, guardians—standing at the edges with expressions that tried, and failed, to hide concern.

Kana stood in line with the others, rolling her shoulders slowly before stretching her arms, then her legs, then her wrists. Each movement was practiced, a quiet routine that steadied her breathing and sharpened her focus. There was a faint anticipation in her chest now, not excitement exactly, but something close enough.

She was excited to go through this.

Rin shifted her weight with a soft sigh, glancing back at them as the line crawled forward at a pace that barely deserved to be called movement. 

“I’m not even sure we’ll still be in the same class after this,” she said, her voice carrying a thread of unease she didn’t quite bother hiding.

Yuri nodded, her expression thoughtful, though her fingers tightened slightly at her side. “Same,” she admitted. “I’m support, so it depends on more than just me. I’ve been practicing the new skill Kana gave me, but…” She hesitated, then exhaled softly. “I don’t know if it’s enough.”

Toby, unusually subdued, stared ahead as if the answer might be written somewhere in the distance. “I’m not sure either,” he said after a moment. “How do I prove I can heal people who can’t be healed… and I can’t heal those people who can be healed?”

The question hung there for a second.

Then Boris let out a short laugh.

Leo quickly covered his mouth, though it did little to hide the amusement in his eyes. Suri tilted her head, studying Toby with the same calm focus she applied to most things before speaking as if the answer were obvious.

“Use your other skills.”

Toby blinked, turning toward her immediately, interest returning with surprising speed. “What other skill?”

Suri didn’t hesitate. “You’re good at talking,” she said. “So prove it. Talk.”

Kana looked away slightly, resisting the urge to comment. With Suri, it was always difficult to tell where sincerity ended and something else began. Toby’s shoulders sank anyway, his brief surge of hope fading, while the others couldn’t quite hold back their laughter.

The line crept forward, time stretching in that slow, uneven way it always did when waiting mattered too much. Eventually, though, they reached the front.

Kana stepped forward first.

The entrance to the hall loomed just ahead, its open doorway. Her focus sharpened, the quiet anticipation. She took a step—

And stopped.

A large hand rose in front of her, palm open, blocking her path with absolute certainty.

Kana looked up.

Professor Fin stood there, unmoving. He was hard to miss even in a crowd—broad-shouldered, solid, the kind of presence that didn’t just occupy space but defined it. Standing in front of him felt less like facing a person and more like encountering a wall that had decided it had a purpose.

Kana tilted her head slightly. “Is there a problem? Professor.”

Fin didn’t lower his hand. “You are exempted from the skill and class assessment,” he said, his deep voice steady and without hesitation.

Kana blinked once, her brows drawing together,”Why?”

For a brief moment, Fin scratched the back of his head, looking almost awkward, as though the answer should have been obvious. “You defeated one of the Empire’s top students,” he said. “We saw that battle ourselves.”

He gestured faintly, as if that alone explained everything.

“We already kno— witnessed what you can do. You are already qualify for the Mithril Class, in your second year.”

Kana stood there, bow resting against her back, dagger at her side, the quiet anticipation she had been building since morning slipping away—not shattered, not broken, but… dismissed. She even switched back to her old dagger to hide the recent breakthrough she had.

Her shoulders lowered slightly.

Behind her, Toby leaned forward, confusion clear on his face. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating?” he asked.

Kana didn’t answer.

She only glanced once toward the open hall before letting out a quiet breath.

Then Toby raised his hand, turning toward Professor Fin with sudden determination. “Can I take her slot instead?” he asked. “Let her do the assessment this year?”

Professor Fin didn’t even acknowledge him.

He simply lowered his hand from Kana’s path, stepping aside just enough for the line to continue moving.

The next student was already stepping forward.

And just like that—

Kana’s turn passed, not lost through failure or choice, but quietly decided for her before she ever had the chance to step inside.

….

Suri stepped forward without hesitation, though this time she wasn’t alone. Rin walked beside her, her earlier confidence tempered by the quiet strangeness of what was unfolding. Waiting just beyond the entrance were two men neither of them recognized—broad-shouldered, composed, and carrying the kind of quietness that made questions feel unnecessary. They didn’t introduce themselves. They didn’t explain. They simply gestured. Follow.

Suri and Rin exchanged a brief glance, the kind that carried more questions than either of them voiced.

Then they followed.

The corridor stretched ahead of them, long and quiet, the sounds of the assessment grounds fading with each step until it felt like they had crossed into an entirely different part of the academy. 

Then, without warning, the two men stopped.

One turned to Rin. The other to Suri.

No explanation was given. No reassurance offered. Just a silent division, as clean and final as a blade through cloth.

Rin hesitated for the briefest moment before following her assigned guide.

Suri didn’t. She simply turned and walked.

The distance between them grew quickly, the corridor bending just enough to erase the other from sight, leaving Suri alone with her thoughts and the quiet pressure of being observed—even if she couldn’t see who was doing the observing.

By the time she reached the room, she was already alert.

She stepped inside.

And paused.

There was little to see at first glance. A curtain stretched across the room, dividing it completely, cutting off any direct view of what lay beyond. Only silhouettes could be seen—three figures seated behind it, their outlines faint.

Suri tilted her head slightly, studying them without speaking.

Then a voice broke the silence.

“Suri of the Saltrain Village,” it said, calm and measured. “Correct?”

She recognized it immediately. Professor Wor-en.

Even without seeing his face, she would have known.

“Yes,” Suri answered.

Another voice followed, deeper, carrying the weight of someone who had spent time observing rather than guessing. “Based on prior observation,” the figure said, “you operate primarily as a scout. However, your combat behavior does not align strictly with that role.”

Suri blinked once, but said nothing.

“You exhibit damage-dealing capability,” the voice continued, “though it appears most effective against targets with vulnerability to lightning-based attacks. At the same time, you engage in close combat beyond what is typical for your classification. Your limits in that area remain… undefined.”

Suri considered that for a moment, her head tilting slightly as she sorted through the assessment in her own way.

“The first and second are probably true,” she said. “But I don’t think I’m good at close combat.”

A quiet chuckle came from behind the curtain.

“Do you remember Valdis?” another voice asked, lighter, edged faintly with amusement. “I witnessed your encounter personally. You struck him. Repeatedly. With quiet skill for someone of your class..”

Suri paused.

Then nodded, as the memory surfaced.

“Ah,” she said simply. There was no hesitation when she added, “He deserved it.”

A brief silence followed, as though someone behind the curtain had shifted, perhaps exchanging a look with the others.

Then Professor Wor-en cleared his throat softly, drawing the moment back to its purpose.

“Given your demonstrated versatility,” he said, “you will be evaluated across three roles. Scout. Long damage dealer. Close combatant. Your performance in each will determine your placement.”

He paused, just long enough for the next words to carry weight.

“If your results meet the required threshold… you may qualify for Mithril Class.”

Suri yawned. 

Then she nodded once.

“Okay.”

“Proceed to the left,” another voice instructed. “Then enter the room on the right.”

Suri turned without hesitation and followed the directions given, stepping out of the chamber and into another corridor where a single man waited for her. He said nothing, only gestured forward.

So she walked.

They entered a different building soon after, the atmosphere changed again—less formal, more contained, like a space built for function rather than evaluation. The man stopped near the center of the room and turned toward her, reaching into a pouch at his side.

He held out his hand.

Three coins rested on his palm. Gold. Silver. Copper.

“Your first test will assess your ability as a scout,” he said. “You are to locate coins, placed throughout this building. Some are hidden in ways intended to challenge perception, speed, and accuracy.”

He closed his hand around the coins.

“You may begin.”

Suri didn’t rush.

Instead, she tapped her staff lightly against the ground.

Once.

The sound was soft—but the effect was immediate.

From that single point of contact, hundreds of small illusions slipped outward, spreading across the floor like ripples, then breaking apart into countless searching fragments. They moved quickly, slipping into corners, along walls, beneath tables and different things—flowing through the space with purpose.

Suri’s eyes changed. There was a faint glow now, a bit weak but unmistakable, as her awareness stretched outward, linking with the illusions as they searched.

The building was well-lit. That helped. Darkness would have slowed her. 

Seconds or minutes passed. 

Then Suri spoke.

“Three gold coins,” she said calmly. “Two hundred silver coins. Three hundred copper coins.”

Silence followed. The proctor didn’t respond immediately. He simply stared.

“You are the first to provide a completely accurate count,” he said at last, his voice slower now. “And the fastest by a significant margin.”

Suri blinked, her focus easing as the glow in her eyes faded.

“I guess that’s good,” she said.

The proctor let out a quiet breath, something between disbelief and approval.

“More than good,” he said. “You currently hold the best time and the highest accuracy among all participants.”

Suri nodded once, accepting the information without much change in expression.

Then she asked, almost absently, “What was the previous best time?”

The proctor hesitated.

“Fifteen minutes and it’s not accurate.”

Suri smiled. Not entirely with satisfaction.

“I should have asked first,” she muttered under her breath.

Post note:You are so excited yet you can’t enter.

I was planning not to show any of the trio too op for such exams but Suri is the only scout. 

Happy weekend! 

Hope you enjoy the chap! 🙂

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