The cobblestone path to the examination hall stretched out before them, lined with fluttering cherry blossoms that danced in the breeze. Yenika Lunavar, the illustrious Moon Princess of the Lunavar Empire, strode with her usual elegance—head held high, silver hair shimmering like moonlight, and violet eyes sharp enough to cut through any illusion. Yet today, those eyes were glued to a most perplexing sight.

  She couldn’t stop staring. It wasn’t his messy brown hair or the way his uniform looked like it had lost a fight with a laundry basket. No, it was something deeper—something that gnawed at her finely tuned magical instincts. “Am I mistaken?” she mused, her thoughts swirling like a storm in a teacup. “Or… no, impossible. My eyes—nay, my very soul—cannot be deceived. I’m certain I sensed an enormous aura from him, just for a fleeting moment!”

  But then Lorian tripped over a pebble—yes, a pebble—and flailed his arms like a windmill in a hurricane, nearly toppling into a rosebush. Yenika’s regal composure twitched.

  Lorian, oblivious to the princess’s internal crisis, was too busy grumbling to himself. “780 MP… I’m basically a magical potato. Maybe I should just sweep the halls instead—janitors don’t need mana, right?” He kicked a stone, which promptly ricocheted off a tree and bonked him on the forehead. “Ow! See? Even the rocks hate me!”

  The air had thrummed with raw mana, a tidal wave of power that sent professors scrambling and students gaping. And amidst the pandemonium, her gaze had locked onto Lorian—standing there, scratching his head like he’d forgotten his lines in a play.

  “Was it truly him?” she wondered, twirling a strand of hair around her finger—an uncharacteristically fidgety gesture for someone of her stature. “Or did the testing artifact just sneeze out a glitch? No, no, my eyes can't be wrong. That was no illusion—it was power, pure and untamed!”

  She stole another glance at him. Lorian was now attempting to adjust his crooked tie, only to strangle himself in the process. “And yet… look at him! He’s a walking catastrophe! How could such a clown conceal anything remotely impressive?”

  Suddenly, Lorian halted mid-step and spun around, catching her mid-stare. “Uh, Princess? You’ve been eyeing me like I’m a rare monster specimen. Is there spinach in my teeth or something?”

  Yenika froze, her royal poise cracking like a dropped teacup. “I—pardon?” she stammered, her voice a pitch higher than intended.He patted his cheek dramatically. “You know, dirt? A bug? Maybe a second nose sprouting? You’re making me paranoid here!”

  Her cheeks flushed a faint pink—a scandalous sight for the unflappable Moon Princess. “N-no, there’s nothing on your face,” she snapped, regaining her footing. “I was merely… contemplating.”“Contemplating?” Lorian arched a brow, grinning like he’d just won a prize.

  “Don’t flatter yourself. I have far grander concerns than your… questionable coordination.”But as they resumed their trek, her mind circled back to that mysterious surge of mana. “There’s something about him,”

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  she thought, her eyes narrowing. “Something buried beneath that ridiculous exterior. A diamond in the rough… or perhaps just a very shiny lump of coal.

  ”Lorian, meanwhile, was lost in his own world, muttering about the upcoming written test. “If I ace this, maybe they’ll overlook my mana flop. Ha! As if. I’ll be lucky if I don’t accidentally set my paper on fire…”

  The grand doors of the examination hall loomed ahead, their golden carvings glinting in the sunlight. Yenika cast one final, sidelong glance at Lorian, her curiosity blazing brighter than ever.

  With a swish of her cloak, she marched inside, her resolve as unshakable as the moon itself. Lorian followed, still oblivious—and still muttering about janitorial career prospects.

  The moment they stepped into the examination hall, a hush fell over the room. Ornate chandeliers cast a golden glow over the grand space, their light reflecting off polished marble floors. Rows of students in pristine uniforms sat rigidly at long mahogany tables, their expressions a mix of tension and quiet determination. The air was thick with the scent of parchment and ink, and at the far end of the hall, a massive, rune-etched obelisk pulsed faintly—its purpose clear.

  Yenika barely acknowledged the elaborate surroundings, her mind still tangled in thoughts of Lorian’s inexplicable power. She had spent years honing her senses to detect even the most subtle shifts in mana, and what she had felt earlier was no mere flicker. It was an eruption, a momentary glimpse into something vast and untamed.

  Yet, as she stole another glance at the boy, he was—utterly mundane. He fumbled with his quill, nearly knocking over an inkwell, and let out a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of a thousand academic regrets. “Alright, Lorian,” he mumbled under his breath. “Time to prove you’re at least smarter than a magical potato.”

  A sharp rap of a cane against the marble floor drew everyone’s attention. Professor Aldric, the venerable head of the Academy’s Examination Board, stood at the front with an air of quiet authority. His deep-set eyes swept across the hall, lingering for a moment on Yenika before settling, somewhat incredulously, on Lorian.

  “The written portion of the Entrance Examination shall now commence,” Aldric announced, his voice carrying effortlessly. “You will have two hours to complete the assessment. Any use of external aids or magic is strictly prohibited.” His gaze sharpened, as if daring someone to test his patience. “Begin.”

  A collective rustling of parchment filled the hall as students flipped over their test sheets. Yenika’s eyes scanned the questions with practiced ease, her quill gliding effortlessly across the page. Equations, historical recountings, arcane theorems—nothing was beyond her grasp.

  Lorian, on the other hand, stared at his paper with the enthusiasm of a man confronting his own doom. “Why,” he whispered to himself, “does this question have so many words? Are they trying to summon a demon with sheer paragraph length?” He scribbled a tentative answer, only to groan and scratch it out. “Okay, Lorian. Think. You studied for this… kind of.”

  Yenika’s quill paused mid-stroke as she caught his murmurs. Was he truly as incompetent as he seemed? Or was this an elaborate act? Her fingers tapped lightly against her desk as she considered the possibilities. Perhaps his talent lay outside of academics—an oddity, but not impossible.

  Then, just as she was about to return to her own work, Lorian’s world shifted.

  The ink on his page darkened, the glow of the chandeliers dimming into a muted, frozen blue. Time itself seemed to stutter, the world around him slowing as an eerie silence swallowed all sound. The vibrant colors of reality drained away, leaving only shades of deep indigo and pale cerulean.

  No one reacted. No one noticed. Because only Lorian could perceive it.

  His breath hitched. He had been careful—so careful. He hadn’t meant to let it happen, not here, not now. But the sensation was unmistakable. The emptiness had surfaced, draping itself over him like a second skin, and with it came an unbearable stillness.

  The obelisk at the front of the hall flickered, its runes twisting for the briefest of moments—before snapping back to normal. The ripple was gone before it could fully take hold.

  Lorian clenched his fist beneath the table. No. Not now. Not here.

  And then, just as suddenly as it began, the world snapped back into motion.

  Ink returned to its proper hue. The glow of the chandeliers brightened once more. Students continued scribbling, utterly unaware of the shift that had just taken place. Even Yenika, who had been studying him with subtle curiosity moments before, showed no reaction.

  Lorian exhaled slowly, forcing his grip on the quill to loosen. It hadn’t lasted long. He had managed to suppress it in time.

  But deep down, he knew the truth.

  It was getting harder to contain.