"...Support."

  Asher tripped over his own feet. He stumbled, catching himself just before face-planting onto the marble pavement. He whipped his head around, staring at Ryn with wide eyes.

  "Excuse me? Support?"

  "Yeah," Ryn replied nonchalantly. "Rescue-related one, to be specific. I can teleport, remember? I just warp in, grab the injured, warp out. No fighting, no sweating, no getting hit by giant monsters. It's the perfect job."

  Asher opened his mouth, closed it, and then rubbed his temples.

  "You... You have a spatial ability, one of the rarest, most lethal affinities in history, and you want to use it to be an ambulance?"

  "It's honest work," Ryn shrugged. "And it pays well."

  Asher looked like he wanted to scream, but they had arrived.

  The Colosseum was titanic.

  The walls were lined with thousands of empty seats, save for the VIP balcony overlooking the arena. There, a handful of stern-faced Academy staff and a few uniformed seniors sat, looking down at the incoming applicants with expressions ranging from boredom to critical assessment.

  "Let's sit there," Asher pointed to a section in the lower stands designated for candidates.

  They moved through the massive archway and found two empty seats near the aisle. Ryn collapsed into his chair with a sigh of relief, immediately slouching to get comfortable. Asher, meanwhile, sat on the edge of his seat, his posture rigid, eyes scanning the environment like a soldier in enemy territory.

  "That's the faculty box," Asher whispered, nodding toward the balcony. "I think I see Professor Vance up there. And... is that a senior from the Student Council?"

  Ryn glanced up, saw a few blurry figures, and shrugged. "Don't know. Don't care."

  As the last of the five thousand candidates filed in and took their seats, the murmurs in the vast arena grew into a dull roar.

  HUMMM.

  Suddenly, a deep, vibrating sound silenced the crowd.

  In the dead center of the sandy arena floor, the air distorted. A circular metallic platform hovered down from the open ceiling, descending slowly until it floated just a few feet above the ground.

  Standing on it was a woman who looked less like a teacher and more like a weapon of war.

  She wore a sleeveless combat uniform that showed off arms corded with lean muscles.

  A jagged scar ran from her jaw down to her neck, and her eyes burned with an intense, predatory orange light.

  She didn't use a microphone... Because she didn't need one!

  "Candidates, assemble!"

  Her voice, amplified by raw Arcana, hit them like a physical shockwave, rattling the bones of everyone in the stands.

  "Welcome to the Crucible," she announced, crossing her arms. "I am Shaylo. Head of the Combat Department."

  She paced around the edge of the hovering platform, glaring up at the rows of students.

  "I know you all just listened to the Vice Principal drone on about rules and regulations for an hour. I hate that boring stuff, so I'll keep this short."

  She smirked, a sharp, feral expression.

  "As you might have heard from the old man, the Practical Evaluation is divided into three parts."

  She held up one finger.

  "First: Aptitude Assessment. We will measure your Core, Rank, Affinity, and so on."

  She held up a second finger.

  "Second: Combat Showcase. You will show us your capabilities in battle. Whether you are a healer, a channeler, or a swordsman, you need to know how to survive a fight. We will throw you into the grinder, and we will see who breaks."

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  She held up a third finger.

  "And finally, Third: Division Trials."

  "You will undergo specific, specialized scenarios based on the Division you applied for. If you picked Support, you will save lives. If you picked Combat, you will take them."

  Shaylo lowered her hand, her gaze sweeping over the silent crowd.

  "The weak will be filtered out in Part One. The cowards will run in Part Two. And the incompetent will fail in Part Three."

  She stomped her boot on the platform.

  "Now, let's begin."

  At Shaylo's command, the ground rumbled deep beneath the arena.

  One hundred cylindrical stone pillars rose simultaneously from the sandy floor, arranging themselves in a perfect grid. Atop each pillar sat an Aptitude Crystal, a hovering orb waiting to be filled with energy.

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  The sound of wrist terminals chiming filled the air.

  "Group One," Shaylo barked, checking a holographic list. "Written Assessment Ranks 1 through 100. Step forward."

  Ryn glanced at his device. It remained silent. He rechecked his rank, Rank 442. He would be in the fifth batch.

  "Good luck," Ryn muttered, leaning back.

  Asher stood up, his face slightly pale, but his jaw set in grim determination. He adjusted his collar, took a deep breath, and walked down the stairs to join the other elites gathering on the ground.

  The atmosphere in the arena changed instantly as the top rankers stepped onto their designated platforms.

  The air grew heavy with arcanum.

  These weren't just ordinary students; they were the heirs of the most powerful bloodlines in the dominion.

  "Begin!" Shaylo ordered.

  One hundred hands touched the crystal orbs.

  HUMMM—!

  The arena erupted in a kaleidoscope of colors.

  As expected, the display was terrifying.

  "Look at Rank 5, Draven!" someone shouted. "Deep Blue Core! And... Peak Adept! Rank 2, Level 10!"

  "Ilene Vance is the same! Peak Adept! Look at that mental interference wave coming off her crystal! But she's got a Violet Core!"

  Ryn observed silently.

  The average freshman was expected to be a peak Novice (Rank 1) or early Adept (from Rank 1 Level 1 to Level 4). To be a peak Adept (Rank 2 Level 9-10) was talented.

  But the Top 10? They were monsters.

  Almost every single one of them — Magnus, Draven, Ilene, and the others — caused their crystals to glow with a deep, saturated Blue, Violet, and some even Gold light, signifying High-Grade Cores. And their arcane pressure stabilized at Peak Adept, just one step away from breaking through to the next major realm.

  Except for two people.

  All eyes turned to Platform 6.

  Asher Leonhart placed his hand on the crystal.

  Vwoom.

  A soft, emerald light filled the orb.

  It wasn't blinding like the others. It was... calm and gentle.

  ════════

  [Asher Leonhart]

  [Core Grade: Green]

  [Rank: Early Adept (Rank 2, Level 2)]

  [Vein: Rune]

  [Affinity: Wind]

  ════════

  The murmurs started instantly.

  "Green?" A student in the stands scoffed loud enough to be heard. "Rank 6 in theory, but a Green Core? That's barely above a commoner."

  "Early Adept? He's lagging behind the other heirs by a huge margin."

  "The Leonhart family must be weeping. How can their offspring be so... average?"

  Asher stood immovable on the platform, the emerald glow illuminating a face carved from stone. He showed no shame, no panic, no hesitation.

  Sure, the disparity was brutal. While his peers were shining like stars, his light was a mere flickering candle. But Asher didn't give a damn about their judgments.

  Let them sneer. They saw a ceiling; he saw a starting line. He knew the path ahead, and he knew that soon, he would leave them all choking on his dust.

  'Well... almost all of them.' He chuckled inwardly, turning his head in a particular direction.

  At the exact moment, a blinding flash of white light annihilated the shadows in the arena.

  BOOOM!

  A shockwave of pure energy blasted outward from Platform 1, kicking up a cloud of dust and silencing every single whisper instantly.

  Ryn's eyes narrowed, shielding them from the glare.

  "Now she resembles him a bit..." he whispered.

  At the center of the arena, Mirana Dume stood with her hand casually resting on the orb. The crystal wasn't just glowing; it was vibrating violently, struggling to contain the power pouring into it.

  The light wasn't Blue.

  It wasn't even Gold.

  It was a pristine, blinding White.

  ════════

  [Mirana Dume]

  [Core Grade: White]

  [Rank: Expert (Rank 3, Level 2)]

  [Veins: Force, Flux, Beast]

  [Affinities: Lightning, Wind, Water]

  ════════

  The entire Colosseum went dead silent.

  "Expert..." a senior on the balcony whispered, dropping his drink. "She's already an Expert?"

  "And three veins?" another gasped. "Force, Flux, and Beast? That's a triple-vein Arcanist!"

  "Eh, let's not mention her triple-affinity then, or else we all lose hope!"

  "Then what about the White Core?"

  "Just pretend we are blind!"

  Even Shaylo, the terrifying instructor, raised an eyebrow in genuine appreciation because she knew how rare and brilliant a White Core was. It was the highest grade core to ever exist!

  Mirana removed her hand.

  The light died down, but the afterimage burned in everyone's retinas. She had completely overshadowed everyone, especially the "average" Asher standing just a few feet away.

  "Batch One, clear the floor!" Shaylo announced, breaking the stupor. "Batch Two, get ready!"

  Asher walked back toward the stands.

  Ryn watched him return, then looked down at his own trembling wrist watch.

  Batch Five was coming up soon.

  'I'll take a nap after my turn...'

  Meanwhile, the Aptitude Assessment continued, a relentless parade of potential.

  Batches Two, Three, and Four passed.

  There were other talented students, of course.

  A few Violet Cores appeared, eliciting polite applause. There were rare Elemental Affinities( Magma, Sound, Blood) and double Veins that would have normally been the talk of the day.

  But after Mirana's blinding display, they all felt hollow.

  It was like watching someone light a match after witnessing a supernova.

  The bar had been set so impossibly high that "genius" now looked merely "acceptable."

  "Batch Five," Shaylo's voice cut through the lethargy. "Ranks 401 to 500. Step forward."

  Ryn stifled a yawn, stood up, and shuffled down the stairs with the rest of his group. He blended perfectly into the mass of nervous students, his posture relaxed and his face forgettable.

  He found his designated pillar: Platform 42.

  'Alright,' Ryn thought, staring at the clear glass orb. 'Let's aim for mediocrity.'