The successful applicants were soon led away from the registration plaza.
A wide stone corridor opened ahead, descending slightly before expanding into an enormous open space.
Mike’s steps slowed.
"...Whoa," he muttered.
Before them stretched a colossal arena complex.
More than a hundred circular arena rings floated at different heights, suspended in the air by massive magic arrays. Some were made of solid stone, others reinforced with glowing barriers, each large enough to host full-scale combat.
Spectator platforms surrounded the area, already filling with instructors, evaluators, and invited observers.
Elina swallowed. "There are... so many arenas."
Examiner’s voice echoed from above, amplified by magic. "This is the academy’s combat field. Everything here is reinforced. You don’t have to worry about holding back—at least not too much."
An examiner floated forward on a levitating platform, his voice carrying clearly across the vast space.
"Second test: Aptitude and Combat Assessment," he announced.
A massive projection formed in the air, displaying numbers.
"Because of the number of candidates, one hundred matches will take place simultaneously," the examiner continued. "Your opponents will be assigned strictly by registration order."
The numbers shifted.
"Applicant 1 versus 2.
3 versus 4.
5 versus 6... and so on."
"There’s no need for anyone to worry," the examiner continued, his voice echoing across the arena. "Even if you lose, as long as you perform well in your match, the academy will still consider accepting you."
Murmurs spread through the crowd.
"This test evaluates more than strength," the examiner said. "We will judge combat sense, adaptability, mana control, and class synergy."
He paused, letting the words sink in.
"Killing is forbidden. Severe injuries will result in disqualification. The match ends when one side surrenders or is incapacitated."
Mike glanced at Elina. "Looks like it’s one-on-one."
She nodded, expression serious. "Yeah... but at least it’s straightforward."
"As we’ve stated, this is an aptitude and combat assessment," Examiner said calmly. "If you show potential, talent, or exceptional combat sense, you will be taken in. So feel free to give it your all—there is no need to fear losing."
Many tense faces visibly relaxed.
"Of course," the examiner added, his tone sharpening slightly, "the top three performers will receive special rewards from the academy."
That last line reignited excitement.
Soon, the first hundred arenas flared to life as barriers sealed and matches began simultaneously. The sounds of clashing weapons, spells, and roars echoed through the vast space.
Mike and Elina stepped back toward the waiting area as they checked their numbers.
1029 and 1030.
"...We’ve got a while," Mike said, glancing at the ongoing fights.
Elina nodded. "At least we can watch and learn."
As the matches continued, flashes of mana lit up the arenas one after another.
Swords clashed. Fireballs exploded against barriers. Wind blades sliced through the air before dispersing harmlessly at the edge of the rings.
Mike watched for a few minutes... then quietly lost interest.
"...Rank-0 fights," he muttered under his breath. ’Boring’
From his perspective, the movements were rough, the timing sloppy. Many contestants relied too heavily on raw spells or brute force, burning through mana without thinking ahead. A few had decent instincts, but nothing that really stood out.
Elina, on the other hand, was completely absorbed.
Her eyes followed every exchange, every spell interaction.
"That one used wind magic to redirect the fire spell..." she whispered. "And that swordsman waited for the barrier pulse before attacking—so smart."
Mike glanced at her and smiled faintly.
For her, this wasn’t boring—it was eye-opening.
She had trained hard, yes, but she hadn’t grown up around large-scale combat like this. Watching dozens of fights at once, seeing different classes and approaches, was invaluable experience.
"That mage wasted too much mana," Mike commented casually. "If his opponent pushed for another ten seconds, he’d collapse on his own."
Elina blinked, then nodded slowly. "You’re right... I didn’t notice that at first."
More matches ended.
Losers were escorted out—some disappointed, some relieved, some still fired up after showing their best. Others advanced, faces flushed with excitement.
Soon, it was Mike’s turn.
His opponent was contestant 1020.
"Best of luck," Elina said softly.
Mike nodded and stepped into the arena.
Opposite him stood a young man holding a sword, his stance steady and confident.
"Mike Vester, Tamer versus Nox Sentinel, Sword Master," the examiner announced.
The barrier sealed.
"Begin."
Nox immediately focused on Mike, eyes sharp. He was clearly searching for a summoned beast—expecting a tamer to fight from the back.
But before he could even move—
A golden pillar of mana formed instantly in front of Mike.
It shot forward like a cannon blast.
Nox’s eyes widened.
"—?!"
The golden construct struck him square in the chest before he could raise his sword. The impact sent him flying backward, his body slamming into the barrier as the light dispersed.
He slid down slowly.
Unconscious.
Silence fell over the arena.
The examiner stared for half a second, then raised his hand.
"...Match over. Winner—Mike Vester."
Mike calmly turned and walked out of the arena as if nothing unusual had happened.
From the stands, Elina blinked.
"...That was fast."
Around them, whispers exploded.
"One hit?"
"Was that really a tamer?"
"That golden mana—what was that?"
"Idiot, that was clearly golden magic."
"But why can a Tamer use it? Or did he lie while filling out the forms?"
Whispers spread rapidly through the crowd, filled with suspicion and disbelief.
Mike returned to Elina’s side, his expression relaxed.
"It’s best to keep fights short," he said calmly. "Look for an opening, end it in one clean strike. That way you save both mana and stamina."
Elina nodded thoughtfully. "That makes sense."
Before they could say more, a staff struck the ground nearby.
"Contestant 1030," an examiner called out. "Elina—enter the arena."
Elina took a steady breath and stepped forward.
Her opponent was already waiting inside—a bulky young man wearing reinforced leather armor, a heavy mace resting on his shoulder.
"Elina, Nature Mage versus Brak Ironhide, Warrior," the examiner announced.