A heavy, suffocating silence.
None of the five people who were guaranteed admission to the academy spoke. They did not expect it for a single second.
The instructor's eyebrow lifted, his expression shifting from mere observation to genuine intrigue.
He hadn't expected this either. It was mind-boggling.
From the previous evaluation, Azarel—the student standing before him—had been identified as an A-Grade talent. Getting an S-Class rating for physical strength was beyond exceptional.
What truly caught his attention wasn't just the result. It was the method.
This wasn't the reckless, full-force swing of an amateur trying to brute force their way through the test. This was a planned execution. He had aimed for a weak point. Not the torso, not the arms—but the neck.
The instructor's lips twitched upward slightly.
The physical strength test wasn't just about raw power as he had said moments earlier, that was a lie to test the students' combat intelligence.
Who had the foresight to target critical areas? Who had the instincts to maximize damage rather than merely throwing their strongest punch?
That was why Arthur's strike had cracked the puppet.
His power alone may not have been higher than, Ash, the red hair—but his precision made it more deadly, generating an S-Class physical power attack. He had landed his strike where it mattered most.
His approach had turned raw strength into something far deadlier.
The red-haired student across from him exhaled slowly, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly.
He hadn't cared much about the others—his own power was already enough to place him leagues above them.
Arthur was slightly different. But still, in Ash's eyes, he wasn't worth enough to look at him with interest, or as a rival.
His punch had been stronger than Arthur's. Had Arthur struck the same way he did—straight to the stomach—he wouldn't have gotten S-Class in his eyes.
But he hadn't done that.
The red-haired student's eyebrow lifted momentarily, before he lowered it again in disinterest, arms crossed.
'He's slightly better than the rest. That's all.'
Arthur caught the glance but ignored it.
He rolled his wrist, flexing his fingers.
The instructor gave him one last glance before speaking.
"Alright, the first part is done."
"You have all received your physical attack results."
"Now, we move on to the second and final part of the test."
His gaze swept over the six students.
"This time, we are testing your highest possible attack output. You may use any skill you possess—no restrictions, except one."
He held up a single finger.
"It must be executed within three seconds. A single burst of power. You can use a combo of skills if you wish, but you must unleash it in one fluid motion. This is not a test of endurance. It is a test of explosive strength."
His voice dropped slightly, adding weight to his next words.
"The stronger the attack, the greater your placement. Give it everything you have."
Arthur could feel the excitement—some of them were eager to showcase their strength, while others felt the pressure of this final ranking.
"Alright, let's begin."
The instructor turned to the first student, one of the two who had received a B-Class ranking in the previous test.
The student, a young man with sharp eyes and a confident stance, nodded before moving toward the testing dummy. His hands flexed at his sides.
Arthur watched closely.
This was the first real test of magical or skill-based attacks. The physical strength test was simple. But this—this required finesse.
The student took a deep breath, then lifted his hands.
"Sand Binding Coffin!"
A surge of mana exploded from his body.
An unnatural wind rushed through the air, carrying with it grains of golden-brown sand that materialized seemingly from nothing. The sand surged forward, racing toward the dummy in a wave, wrapping around its body like a living coffin.
Within seconds, the puppet was completely entombed.
The sand continued to climb, spiraling upward, tightening.
Arthur narrowed his eyes.
The technique wasn't just about raw damage—it was also about control. The way the sand moved, responding instantly to the caster's will, was impressive.
The student clenched his fist.
The swirling sand compressed in an instant, crushing inward. The sheer force of it sent a shockwave rippling outward, a dull boom echoing through the training grounds.
Arthur felt the shift in mana. The way the sand twisted, coiled, then constricted like a crushing vice—
This was a kill technique.
The student's eyes were locked onto the puppet, determination burning in his gaze.
The instructor's voice cut through the air.
Three seconds had passed.
The student exhaled sharply, releasing his control.
The sand disintegrated, fading into scattered mana particles, leaving behind an untouched, unharmed puppet.
[B-Class Attack Power]
The student straightened.
The result was good. Not outstanding, but respectable. His expression was calm, but Arthur could see the subtle relief in his stance.
"Well done," the instructor nodded. "You have achieved a B-Class ranking in both tests. That solidifies your placement in B-Class."
The student smiled. A B-Class ranking meant he would still be considered one of the elite among students.
"Don't be too excited. You must maintain your position in B-Rank throughout the year. Competition is fierce and you must keep up. If you fail to do that, then you will be demoted to C-Class and someone will take your place. The worst possible scenario is exclusion, so don't slack."
The student gulped slightly before nodding, the instructor's words made him worry instead of excited. But still, he was relieved that he had at least for now, made it into B-Class.
Arthur crossed his arms.
It was likely Uncommon-grade at best, but its potential was undeniable. A restraint-type ability that could immobilize opponents completely—if strengthened, it could become a lethal finishing move.
But this was just the beginning.
The next student was already stepping forward.
[C-Class Attack Power]