The candidates for a rank promotion had to pass a written exam first. Only those who managed to score enough points were allowed to proceed to the practical part.

  In Kel’s opinion, it was incredibly stupid. A monster wouldn’t ask about a five-hundred-year-old treaty before attacking, and knowing the names of every Guild Master in history wouldn’t help complete a contract either.

  Vanessa genuinely sympathized with him and, to cheer him up, told stories about how she’d been forced as a child to memorize the genealogies of every noble family in the kingdom. It had been mind-numbingly boring, and little Vanessa was constantly mixing up fifth cousins and the nephews of some aunt’s in-laws. Her grandmother grew so fed up with it that she took away Vanessa’s dinner every time she failed a lesson. Once, Vanessa went an entire month without supper. After that, they even took away her birthday.

  Well – technically the celebration still happened, and the guests were invited. Vanessa just wasn’t allowed to leave her room; everyone was told she was unwell. Later, her grandmother burned all the presents in front of her eyes. It was supposed to teach her attentiveness and responsibility.

  Kel was starting to dread the idea of meeting that woman. All he could do was hope he’d be gone from the baron’s estate before she returned.

  To be honest, the exams worried him far less than the system and its bizarre behavior. Ever since the incident in the library, it hadn’t shown any signs of life, but that silence brought no comfort. If anything, the number of mysteries only kept growing – without a single answer in sight. The constant overthinking and tension had finally caught up with him, and Kel found himself battling sleepless nights.

  That was when Neymar came to the rescue with his miraculous potions and powders. Kel wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he’d expected from the healer’s assistant after everything that had happened, but Neymar kept his word and didn’t ask a single question. Kel wondered whether that was simply his nature – or if Neymar had his own reasons for not digging too deep. Either way, Kel was grateful. He even decided he would invite both Neymar and Kiana to festival in Concordia.

  Kiana’s behavior worried him as well. She had grown more withdrawn, quieter. Sometimes Kel caught her giving him strange, lingering looks. If you lived beside someone your entire life, how long would it take to notice they’d been replaced by someone else? And what was he supposed to do with the girl now?

  Once again, he caught himself thinking about anything and everything except actually reading the Guild regulations.

  The lines blurred before his eyes, turning into a meaningless wall of ink. He could reread the same paragraph three times and still have no idea what it was about.

  Still, there was a saying from his old world: “You can’t catch a breath before the execution.”

  The exam was only an hour away. Kel drummed his fingers against the cover of the book, then shut it with a quiet thud. No miracle of memory was going to happen in sixty minutes. He decided it would be better to take a walk around the city and clear his head than torture himself trying to cram in a few more scraps of information.

  To qualify for the second stage, he only needed fifty-one correct answers out of a hundred.

  Surely he wasn’t so hopeless that he couldn’t manage that much?

  The inner voice answered far too quickly for comfort, and Kel chose to ignore it.

  The capital Guild building looked nothing like the modest branch in Ostalla. This one was a statement carved in stone: a five-story palace decorated with ornate stucco, tall arched windows, and banners bearing the Guild sigil. The whole thing practically announced, “We are a serious organization for the best of the best.”

  Kel stood for a moment at the gates, tilting his head back to take it all in. Somewhere up there, behind those polished walls, a stack of papers waited to decide his immediate future. He felt an unpleasant flutter in his stomach.

  The future “best of the best” had already gathered in the courtyard. Dozens of candidates clustered in small groups, some nervously flipping through notes, others pretending they weren’t nervous at all. Laughter sounded a little too loud, voices a little too sharp.

  Kel arrived among them one of the last.

  He slipped into the crowd, trying to look like someone who absolutely belonged there – and not like a man who had spent the morning arguing with a textbook and losing.

  Before the exam itself, everyone had to reconfirm their participation and pay a special fee.

  One hundred gold coins was a hefty sum by any standard. Kel was lucky he kept supplying Ingis with ingredients – otherwise, he wouldn’t even be standing here.

  Still, the crafty old man was another source of Kel’s constant headaches.

  For some reason, he trusted Neymar. With Ingis, he didn’t doubt for a second that the man had a double bottom – and probably a third one as well.

  Kel grimaced.

  “And how exactly are thoughts about him going to help me right now? They won’t. First things first – focus on today’s goal. The damned exam.”

  “Who do we have here?! Lord Kelmir himself!”

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  Kel turned toward the voice.

  The speaker was a man in his early thirties – tall, broad-shouldered, with neatly styled chestnut hair. Like everyone in the Guild courtyard, he wore an adventurer’s outfit. Even Kel had been forced into the hated uniform for such an official occasion. The difference was that this man’s clothes were made from expensive fabric, tailored to perfection. Every detail about him screamed luxury and money.

  Kel didn’t recognize him.

  Just my luck,

  he thought. Run into one of Kelmir’s acquaintances.

  And judging by the mocking tone, the two of them hadn’t been on friendly terms.

  So what strategy was he supposed to choose now?

  The man clearly mistook Kel’s hesitation for fear.

  “Didn’t I warn you not to show your face in the Guild again?” he continued, stepping closer with an easy, confident grin. “Didn’t I say I’d grind you into dust if you did?”

  Around them, people were already starting to notice.

  A couple of candidates smirked, clearly hoping for free entertainment. Others suddenly found the cobblestones fascinating and looked away, pretending they had somewhere important to be. The courtyard had that familiar pre-fight silence – the kind where everyone listens while pretending not to.

  Another self-absorbed idiot, Kel thought irritably. “Warned me,” did he?

  Whatever had happened between this man and the original Kelmir, Kel had no intention of letting it interfere with his plans.

  “I’m delighted to see you too,” Kel said in a cold, even tone. “Now let’s say our goodbyes.”

  The man blinked, clearly expecting a very different reaction.

  “So you’ve grown some nerve, have you?” he sneered. “Been a while since you ate dirt? Don’t worry – I’ll remind you what it tastes like.”

  He was half a head taller than Kel and considerably broader in the shoulders. Clearly the type who invested far more points into Strength than anything resembling intelligence.

  Their brief exchange had already drawn a proper audience.

  Someone whispered excitedly behind Kel’s back. A girl near the fountain nudged her friend and pointed at them without any shame at all.

  Would be nice if they minded their own business, Kel thought, noticing the dozens of eyes fixed on him.

  “I’ll give you one last chance,” the man said, lowering his voice as if doing Kel a favor. “Walk out of the Guild right now, and you’ll stay in one piece.”

  Kel’s mood was already foul from the exam, the sleepless nights, and the constant system nonsense. He had no patience left for this.

  “Go to hell,” he said simply.

  The man leaped in a single bound, closing the distance in an instant, and swung for Kel’s stomach.

  It was blindingly fast – and yet, to Kel, it moved in slow motion.

  He sidestepped smoothly, letting the punch cut through empty air. The man immediately followed up with another strike, faster this time, almost anticipating every shift of Kel’s weight.

  Kel felt the faint thrum of mana radiating from him – weak for a proper mage, but more than enough to activate some of his artifacts. He had learned long ago that even a trace of mana could turn defensive wards into lethal counters.

  For the first time, Kel activated his magical sight, scanning his opponent in detail. He wasn’t anywhere close to Almas’s level, of course, but the sheer number of artifacts strapped to the man was impressive. Small wards, layered shields, and offensive trinkets – clearly meant for both attack and defense. None were extraordinary; none could function at full power without their owner’s mana.

  The man’s strikes rained down in a relentless rhythm. The man continued his barrage. Each strike was faster than the last. Kel’s eyes flicked around the courtyard, noting the terrified and excited faces of the onlookers, the way some had stepped back while others leaned forward for a better view. The tension was thick, almost tangible.

  Kel shifted his weight and let a slight feint carry the man forward, using his momentum to topple him onto the cobblestones.

  “Enough. Settle...” Kel began, but didn’t finish.

  Kel felt a creeping numbness spread through his body. The arm he had used to grab and throw the man was gone from his perception, like a detached chunk of ice. He couldn’t move a finger, couldn’t even twitch.

  The man’s face broke into a cruel, triumphant grin.

  Kel’s eyes narrowed, and he focused on the strange sensations flooding his body. Slowly, steadily, the numbness crept toward his chest. Soon… it would reach his heart. Soon, it would stop.

  He had to admit, this was a miscalculation. He had secured himself against physical blows, against direct magic – but he had completely overlooked curses. Constant protection against them required continuous reinforcement of his core. After the fight with the Lamia, Kel had been trying to be more careful with his body, pacing the strain he put on himself.

  But even as he considered it, his mind reeled. He hadn’t expected the man to be this reckless, to use a cursed artifact openly in front of dozens of witnesses. Not that the Tower of Mages – or any authority – would have approved of this. Where had the man even gotten something like that? And why so much hatred toward Kelmir?

  Kel initiated the cleansing process. No – he wasn’t going to respond to the man’s dirty tricks with magic.

  The grin vanished from the man’s face the moment he realized Kel had no intention of dying and could move freely. He tried to recoil, to slip away – but Kel’s grip held him like iron.

  A simple adventurer would use simple methods, and Kel wasn’t about to overcomplicate things. He clenched his fist, summoned all his strength, and drove it into the man’s face. A sharp crack echoed.

  A magnificent sound. Finally, it was Kel’s turn to smile.

  “What’s going on here?!”

  The shout cut through the tension just as Kel raised his fist for another blow.

  “Fighting is strictly forbidden! Absolutely forbidden!” a voice barked. “Do you want to get disqualified from the rank-up exam?!”

  Kel froze mid-motion, just long enough to glance around. The courtyard had gone completely silent. Other candidates were staring, some wide-eyed, some openly smirking at the spectacle. A few were nervously edging away, trying not to draw attention to themselves.

  From the Guild’s doors, one of the examiners came running toward them, eyes blazing with indignation.

  “Hey! What is the meaning of this?!” he shouted, voice echoing across the courtyard.

  Perfect timing, Kel thought.