After leaving the caravan, Alaric and Jarik stood near the outer gate of Larethin, momentarily unsure of where to go next. The city felt overwhelming up close. People moved with purpose in every direction.

  Alaric approached a passerby and asked for directions to the regional church office. After receiving a few vague gestures and corrected routes, they eventually found themselves walking uphill toward a massive white stone structure rising above the surrounding buildings.

  When they finally stood before it, both boys stopped.

  The regional church office was far larger than Saint Elyss’s Rest. Wide stone steps led to tall doors carved with holy symbols. Pillars lined the front. People were already gathered outside, many of them standing in groups or sitting on the steps.

  There were hundreds.

  Alaric felt a strange tightening in his chest. Nearly everyone there was taller than him. Most looked ten to twelve years old, some even older. Many wore confident expressions, fine clothes, or carried themselves with practiced discipline.

  “So many…” Jarik muttered quietly.

  Before Alaric could respond, a volunteer wearing church colors approached them. “Candidates, please proceed inside and take a seat in the main hall. Do not wander.”

  They followed the stream of examinees through the doors.

  The main hall was enormous.

  High ceilings arched far above them, supported by thick stone columns. Sunlight poured through tall stained-glass windows, painting the floor in shifting colors. Long wooden benches filled the space, arranged in neat rows. At the front stood a wide table where several officials sat, documents stacked before them.

  Alaric and Jarik found seats in the sixth row.

  Alaric sat up straight, eyes forward, quietly taking in everything.The murmurs of hundreds of candidates slowly died down as a robed priest stepped forward.

  “I am Brother Seron,” the man announced. “I will be the chief examiner for today’s written evaluation.”

  His voice was calm but firm.

  “The written exam accounts for twenty percent of your total evaluation. It will be conducted here. You will answer only what is asked. No cheating. No disturbances.”

  Volunteers moved through the hall, distributing paper and pens.

  He read through them once, then began writing.

  Most of it came naturally. Corwin’s lessons echoed clearly in his mind. The arithmetic was trivial. Even without remembering his past life clearly, numbers felt instinctive. He knew he had once studied far more complex things, even if the details were gone.

  He finished early and reviewed his answers carefully.

  When Brother Seron announced the end, Alaric felt calm.

  Afterward, they were guided to the dormitories. Simple rooms, shared beds, clean and orderly. Alaric and Jarik stored their belongings and joined the others for dinner.

  As they ate, Jarik leaned over. “How was it?”

  “Easy,” Alaric replied honestly.

  If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  Jarik exhaled. “I’m not sure, I answered most of the questions.”

  They spoke quietly about the questions, careful not to draw attention. That night, sleep came slowly. The hall echoed with nervous breathing.

  They were instructed to gather again after morning prayer.

  Breakfast was simple but filling. Bread, porridge and milk.

  Alaric noticed how many candidates looked tense. Some stretched their fingers. Others whispered to themselves.

  When they reached the hall, it was arranged differently. Instead of seating everyone, a single official stood near a side door with a list.

  Names were called.

  Those called stepped through the door and did not return.

  The silence grew heavier with each name.

  “Jarik of Norvale.”

  Jarik stood up quickly.

  Alaric looked at him. “Good luck.”

  Jarik nodded and disappeared through the door.

  Three names later.

  “Alaric.”

  Alaric rose and walked forward.

  Beyond the door was a smaller chamber. Three instructors waited. One short and broad. One elderly with sharp eyes. One tall and thin.

  A crystal orb rested on a stand between them.

  The elderly instructor spoke first. “This crystal measures mana quantity, responsiveness, and control. Place your hand on it and follow instructions.”

  Alaric did as told.

  They tested how quickly he could circulate mana. How precisely he could shape it. How much he could release without strain with him touching the orb. Depending on how he manipulated mana a black smoke inside of the orb shifted.

  The instructors exchanged looks.

  This kid is almost incredible, with so much mana but such fine control! One instructor thought.

  “Proceed to the field,” the tall one said.

  Outside, a wide training ground awaited. Jarik stood among a line of candidates.

  They were instructed to strike three targets with magic.

  One by one, candidates stepped forward, launching spells carefully.

  When it was Alaric’s turn, he stepped forward calmly. He knew to get selected he needs to stand out.

  He formed three compressed ice spears using creo aqua.

  With a single motion, all three launched.

  Each target shattered cleanly, unlike most of the candidates doing it one by one.

  A brief murmur rippled through the instructors.

  Jarik stared.

  By evening, exhaustion set in. The tension eased slightly, replaced by anticipation.

  “Tomorrow’s the physical part,” Jarik said quietly as they ate.

  Alaric nodded. “We’re almost done.”

  They were grouped in tens and taken to an open field.

  The evaluation was brutal.

  Running. Long distance at first, then short sprints.

  Then running while channeling confirma.

  Muscles burned and breathing came hard.

  They were handed steel swords and instructed to strike posts using raw strength, then confirma-enhanced strength.

  Finally, an obstacle course.

  Walls. Mud. Balance beams.

  Alaric pushed through steadily, not sure if he was fastest or strongest.

  When it ended, many candidates collapsed where they stood.

  That night, Jarik laughed weakly. “I can’t feel my legs.”

  Alaric smiled faintly. “Same.”

  The final morning was the worst.

  Waiting.

  They gathered in the main hall again. Brother Seron stood before them with a parchment.

  “Twenty candidates,” he said. “Out of all of you. Twenty have been recommended this year.”

  A wave of tension swept the room.

  Alaric’s thoughts stalled.

  Twenty.

  Out of hundreds.

  Brother Seron pinned the list to the board.

  “You may slowly form lines to find your name.”

  Alaric stood frozen for a moment before stepping forward.