It was day seven.
The theory exams were finally over.
Unfortunately, that meant it was now time for the practicals.
We didn’t even get a single day’s rest before the Academy stopped pretending it didn’t want us dead and started testing our physical limits.
Everyone had a different exam schedule depending on the order in which they’d chosen their classes.
Since I’d picked Physical Conditioning and Advanced Combat Mechanics as my first two physical subjects, my initial practical was a combined assessment for both.
Which was why, along with two hundred other Cadets, I now found myself standing in an open arena on one of the Orbiting Islands.
The rules for today’s exam were simple:
[1. Don’t accidentally kill your fellow Cadets.
2. Don’t break the arena too much.
3. Points will be deducted if emergency healers are called in.]
So, naturally… someone exploded in the first five minutes.
“Medic!” a voice yelled from somewhere behind the bleachers.
“I’m fine!” came the reply, followed by a wheezing cough and the unmistakable sound of someone vomiting.
I couldn’t see who it was.
Because I myself was currently staring down a harrowing monster — a towering creature with the face of a bull, the torso of a man, and the legs of a horse, wielding twin glaives.
I sighed, wondering what series of life choices had brought me to this point.
The creature was a summoned Spirit Beast, conjured by one of the Acquire Cards of our examiner — Instructor Kain Reichardt.
All across the arena, seven other Cadets were locked in duels with similar summoned creatures.
Whenever a fight ended — whether by victory or defeat — the next Cadet would step down into the arena to take their place.
“Cadet Samael Theosbane,” came the examiner’s voice over the speakers. “Begin. Your objective is to defeat the creature or survive ten of its blows — either by dodging or tanking.”
I looked in his direction and raised a hand.
The examiner stood at the far end of the arena, on a raised dais, observing us with calm and cold eyes — his bald head gleaming under the winter sun.
“One quick question before we start,” I said calmly. “Is this thing calibrated for psychological warfare? Because I swear it just looked at me like it agreed my father was right to abandon me.”
Instructor Reichardt stared at me with the dead eyes of a man who hadn’t laughed in seventeen years.
He didn’t respond.
Of course he didn’t.
Before I could say anything else, the beast lunged at me.
I turned my focus back to it and dove sideways, activating my «Battle Reflex» Card to instantly boost my reaction speed and agility.
The glaive sliced through the air where my head had been a heartbeat ago, cleaving into the ground with a sharp crack that sent fragments of stone flying.
I hit the ground in a roll, came up on one knee, and clicked my tongue.
Yup. That thing was faster than it looked.
It was supposed to be a Minor Beast. But both its speed and strength were terrifying. And to make matters worse, it was using weapons.
I had to be careful.
Nodding to myself, I rushed forward.
Meanwhile, its hooves slammed against the arena floor as it twisted its massive body with an unnatural jerky motion, both glaives spinning in a deadly arc.
The muscles in its bull-like neck rippled with power.
Its eyes glowed with a primal fury that sent a cold shiver down my spine.
I ducked beneath the first glaive, sidestepped to evade the second, and slipped into its blind spot.
A Card shimmered into existence over my shoulder — «Fire Arrow».
Instantly, searing flames roared to life around my right hand, coalescing into the shape of a blazing arrow in my grip.
I whipped my arm forward with all the might I could muster and hurled the fiery projectile at the beast’s face.
It stepped back and lifted one of its glaives to block.
The arrow struck the steel and exploded in a burst of flame and smoke, obscuring the creature from view.
But I already knew it wasn’t enough to bring it down.
As the smoke parted, the beast lowered its weapon, revealing its enraged bull-face once more—
Only to find empty space where I’d been.
Because I had already moved.
And right now, I was right behind it.
The moment it turned its head in confusion, another fire arrow whistled through the air — this one aimed at the back of its knee.
The explosion was immediate and violent. Its horse-leg buckled as its kneecap shattered, sending the beast crashing down with an agonized shriek.
It dropped to one knee.
You see, it was too tall for me to hit properly. So, I brought it down to my level.
Sure, I could’ve just killed it from behind with a clean headshot.
But doing it this way was way more dramatic.
The beast let out a growl so deep and guttural it could’ve rattled bones. Snarling, it spun on its one good knee and swept its glaive in a wide arc, aiming to take my head clean off.
But its blade sliced through nothing but air.
Because, once again, I had moved.
I had lept high — right above its head.
Sensing me overhead, the beast looked up — just in time to see the final fire arrow descending.
It struck the dead-center between its eyes.
Boom—!!
And the explosion tore open its skull, splattering brain matter in every direction.
By the time its limp body hit the ground with a dull thud, I had easily landed beside it.
Exhaling softly, I lowered my hand and dismissed my Cards.
The examiner, Instructor Kain Reichardt, gave me a slow clap. “Samael Theosbane — passed! Bonus points for flair. Minus points for unnecessarily dragging out the fight. Next!”
“Yeah, I regret nothing,” I scoffed and elegantly walked off the field.
But instead of returning to my rooms, I decided to stick around and watch some of the other duels.
There was no specific reason.
I just wanted to see others fail and enjoy the feeling of superiority.
And for about five minutes, I did enjoy it.
I saw one Cadet attempt a flying side kick. He tripped on the landing, punched himself in the face with his own knee, and was gently backhanded into a wall. Thankfully, he managed to clutch at the last possible moment and pass the test.
Another Cadet summoned a lightning-based spell, but she forgot that water conducts electricity. She ended up electrocuting herself and the beast she was battling.
Then there was a guy who summoned a Support Card clearly meant for teams — something about ‘fortifying allied defenses’ — while fighting alone.
As expected, nothing happened.
He just stood there glowing blue while the monster he was facing looked confused… then offended. Finally, it punched him.
By this point, I was laughing hysterically.
Watching these fools fail so pathetically inflated my ego, fueled my narcissism, and — as a bonus — entertained me.
I felt smug.
…Until the main characters showed up.
It started with Alexia.
With her lush orange hair and perfect posture, she oozed a vaguely messianic aura that made you feel like clapping even when she was just tying her shoelaces.
She stepped into the arena confidently, facing something that looked like a terrifying fusion of a lion and a drake as her summoned beast opponent.
The creature hissed and lunged at her as if ready to end worlds.
But then, mid-leap… it hesitated.
…I wish I were exaggerating.
The beast really hesitated.
Alexia just drew her Origin Card and smirked.
The beast actually flinched, turned its head slightly, and backed up a step.
Meanwhile, she raised her fist slowly, almost politely.
One strike later, it crumpled like paper.
The stands erupted in cheers and applause. A few guys even started shouting marriage proposals.
I blinked. “Okay. Now she’s just showing off.”
Next came Michael Godswill.
The protagonist — unlike the rest of us mere mortals — walked into the arena like he was heading to the kitchen for a snack.
His jacket fluttered dramatically, even without any wind. Scientists are still trying to explain how.
He didn’t size up his beast.
He didn’t even use any Cards.
He simply took out his sword.
Disappeared.
Reappeared behind the creature.
And then the creature fell apart in two pieces, like it had only just remembered it was already dead.
The whole event lasted about twenty seconds.
The audience barely reacted. Everyone was stunned.
One Cadet took off his hat and held it to his chest as if we’d just witnessed a moment of silence.
“Oh, come on,” I muttered.
Kang Tae-jin showed up next.
That guy didn’t even use a weapon.
He deployed a few Enhancement Cards and walked head-first toward his opponent.
The beast — a brute of a gorilla-centaur hybrid — looked menacingly at Kang and roared.
Kang roared back, ducked under an incoming attack, wrapped his arms around it… and suplexed the creature into the arena floor.
Yes. That’s exactly what happened.
He literally suplexed a two-ton creature like it owed him money.
The beast didn’t get up.
Kang dusted off his hands and walked away.
One guy stood up and screamed, “BROOOO!” so loudly that someone threw a shoe at him.
By now, I could no longer pretend I wasn’t mildly irritated by how competent the main characters were.
And Juliana was the final nail in the emotional coffin.
She sauntered into the arena with the kind of bored elegance that suggested she was out for a lazy walk rather than fighting a monstrous creature.
Her opponent was a giant scaled panther with smoke for fur and venom dripping from its claws.
Juliana blinked at it, rolled her eyes, and then reached into her coat, pulling out a kunai.
Then another.
Then another.
And another.
I counted seven.
I stopped counting after sixteen.
The panther lunged desperately.
But Juliana just kept throwing one kunai after the next. The final one plunged between the beast’s eyes, killing it.
By the time its corpse hit the ground, she was already walking off the field, looking vaguely annoyed that she had to exert any effort.
The crowd went feral.
Cadets were shouting.
Someone even began chanting her name.
A guy two rows behind me exclaimed, “That’s my future wife,” only to be hit by his actual girlfriend with a water bottle.
I stood there, hands in my pockets, nodding slowly as if to say, ‘Ah yes, my peers. Fellow exceptional individuals.’
Inside?
I was dying.
None of the heroes overshadowed me — technically.
But they matched me.
Quite easily, might I add.
It was a cruel and humbling realization. I wasn’t really the main character in this story. They were.
My smugness wilted. My ego limped.
And with a sigh deeper than my despair, I turned to walk back toward my dorm.