The Royal Archives of Velmathis were not open to just anyone.

  To enter, you had to prove your worth.

  Elara and I stood before a grand marble hall, the Examination Chamber, where aspiring scholars were tested. The air smelled of aged parchment and ink, and the walls were lined with floating script, shifting in real-time—a display of magically recorded knowledge.

  At the center of the room stood a panel of scholars, robed in deep blue, seated at a crescent-shaped table. Four men and two women, their eyes sharp, their faces unreadable.

  This was our final obstacle.

  If we failed, our journey ended here.

  A tall, thin scholar with silver-rimmed spectacles spoke first.

  "Your research claims to explore an advanced form of numerology, one that integrates a new theoretical structure of magic. Velmathis does not grant access to the Royal Archives lightly. You will be tested on the following:"

  1. Your knowledge of existing magical principles.

  2. Your ability to explain your theory using known magical law.

  3. A practical demonstration.

  Elara and I exchanged a glance.

  We had expected this.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  "You may begin," the scholar said.

  ---

  The First Test: Magical Knowledge

  "Explain the known laws of elemental conversion," one scholar demanded.

  Elara answered immediately.

  "Elemental conversion is the process by which mana is transformed into one of the six primary elements: fire, water, earth, air, light, and darkness. This is governed by the principle of Arcane Equilibrium, which states that mana will always shift towards the element with the lowest resistance, unless influenced by external forces."

  The scholars nodded, but one of them, an older woman, raised an eyebrow.

  "And what of advanced hybridization?"

  I took that one.

  "Hybridization occurs when two elements are fused using a stabilizing agent, such as runic inscription or a mage’s intent. The most unstable fusions are fire and water, due to their opposing natures, whereas light and air combine most naturally due to their affinity in energy distribution."

  A few of the scholars exchanged intrigued glances.

  So far, so good.

  But that was the easy part.

  Now came the real challenge.

  The Second Test: Theoretical Explanation

  A different scholar leaned forward, adjusting his spectacles.

  "Your research proposes a method of understanding magic that deviates from established doctrine. Explain."

  I took a breath.

  "Magic in this world has always been understood as a mystical force—something innate, something unknowable. But what if it wasn’t? What if magic followed precise, measurable laws—ones that could be defined with pure logic?"

  One of the scholars scoffed.

  "Magic is inherently irrational. No known formulas have successfully quantified its full behavior."

  I smiled slightly.

  "That’s because you’re using the wrong approach."

  I stepped forward and pulled out a piece of parchment. With careful strokes, I sketched out the equations I had developed—the very same ones that I had built when designing this world as a novel.

  Differential runic calculus. Spell matrices as algebraic structures. A unified theorem of arcane flow.

  The scholars leaned in.

  Even those who had been skeptical before were now staring at my work.

  Elara stepped in beside me.

  "Magic behaves in patterns. Those patterns can be expressed numerically. We have developed a framework that not only describes spellcasting as a logical process but also predicts outcomes with precision."

  Silence.

  Then, one of the scholars whispered, "This is… beyond our current understanding."

  Good.

  That meant we had them.

  The Third Test: Practical Demonstration

  "Theory is not enough," the lead scholar finally said. "Prove it."

  A circular spell-testing platform was revealed—a large stone arena embedded with detection runes.

  I nodded.

  "What would you like us to demonstrate?"

  The scholar smirked. "Something unconventional."

  I exhaled and glanced at Elara.

  Then, I turned back to the panel and said, "We will cast a spell without using an incantation, a wand, or a staff."

  There was an immediate stir in the room.

  "Impossible," one of the scholars muttered.

  I smiled.

  "Not if you understand the math."

  Elara and I stepped onto the platform.