Chapter 9

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Chapter 9: Trial at the Academy

Several days later, the annual trial of Belmar’s Royal Magic Academy commenced.

The event took place near the Forest of Gran, where a newly built camp stood fully equipped. Qualified students would begin their week-long trial here without supplies or reinforcements.

"Students, the annual trial begins now!" Dean Lind boomed from a raised platform. "Your task is to eliminate mutated monsters in the forest. Scores depend on collected monster drops—more items mean better results. Powerful monsters grant higher points!" He paused, then added, "The top team will receive class transmutation via the Duchy’s Grand Magic Array as reward. The academy will supply all materials!"

Excitement rippled through the crowd. Though this trial happened yearly, the chance to undergo perfect transmutation made ambitious youths restless. Yet some voiced concerns.

"Each trial’s different, but ours has mutated monsters? Damned mutations made everything tougher."

"But it’s our shot at transmutation! The academy even provides materials this time. If we had to gather them ourselves, we’d waste months!"

Students displayed mixed reactions—joy, worry, eagerness, alliances forming. Even Midi felt stirred.

In his past life, transmutation materials hadn’t been part of the reward. His reincarnation and altered choices were changing the world. *Butterfly effect*, he mused. A tiny flap causing distant storms.

*Did switching sides cause this?* He glanced sideways.

Fenrir Sais turned at that moment, locking eyes with Midi. The noble smirked and drew a finger across his throat.

Fenrir’s team stood strong. Unlike proud Fina, the Sais family had enrolled three elite retainers alongside him years ago. Now level 18 students, they shielded Fenrir like loyal hounds. Midi knew they’d sacrifice levels or lives to boost their master’s score.

But to Midi, this wasn’t a true team—just a brat with attack dogs. They’d crumble in the unpredictable wilderness despite their combat strength.

What truly worried him were potential changes to the assassins from his past life. With altered rewards, would the Sais family hire deadlier killers?

Helplessness and urgency gripped him briefly before he steeled himself. *No regrets. I’m with Fina now. Gain power. Fix past mistakes. Even if everything warps beyond recognition.* His gloved left arm twitched.

He’d told no one about becoming a Demon Swordman—his hidden trump card.

"By the authority of this academy’s dean," Lind declared, "the trial begins now!"

A horn blared. Students stampeded toward the forest like racers, not warriors.

This made sense. Over three years, they’d completed forest missions, memorizing safe zones with known monsters, terrain, and attack patterns. Securing these areas meant efficient hunting and early advantage.

Yet Fina’s group stayed put.

So did Fenrir’s team and other elite squads with level 18 members. Not due to noble pride, but because rushing held no value.

“It’s rare to see the Forest of Gran in this state—crowded with people but scarce on monsters during the annual trial. I wonder how chaotic the competition will get?” Lilian remarked mockingly, then turned to the red-haired girl. “Miss Fina, which path do we take?”

“East,” Fina answered curtly.

That was the route leading to the Deep Poison Ruins within the Forest of Gran.

Even during a trial, the future Queen of Magic remained unflinching, immediately choosing the hardest path. This stemmed from her confidence in herself and trust in her teammates.

“Midi,” the red-haired girl glanced at the black-haired boy, adding, “Don’t drag us down. Speak up if you have any issues.”

“Understood,” Midi replied with a grin.

With her words, even the skeptical Lilian wouldn’t refuse Midi’s requests for help, let alone the calm Sigmund. Though Midi guessed his battle strength now surpassed both after gaining the demon hand, the Queen of Storms’ subtle support still warmed him.

This was a true team—still adjusting, but bound by pure trust.

Other elite teams, seeing Fina choose the eastern route, immediately headed west into the Forest of Gran. No one wanted to clash directly with the Queen of Storms. Even at level 19 or hailed as elites, they were nothing before the red-haired girl.

Resentment flickered in Fenrir’s eyes. He wasn’t afraid of the Deep Poison Ruins’ monsters and longed to challenge the Queen of Storms head-on. Yet memories of Fina’s ruthlessness and his family head’s orders crushed his impulsiveness.

“We take the middle!” Fenrir snarled. “Kill every team we encounter!”

As the final team entered the forest, the week-long trial began.

“Hurry! I’ve lured a pack of goblins!” shouted a sprinting student, his voice panicked.

A level 16 Fighter, lean and swift, his training granted him uncommon speed. But the mutated goblins matched his pace, trailing relentlessly. Worse, their stamina outstripped the pampered students, giving them the edge in this chase.

Sunlight pierced the canopy, glinting off the goblins’ blood-crusted weapons.

“They’re in the trap—attack!” Three students dropped from the trees as the goblins passed.

The baiting boy skidded to a halt, spun, and hurled a lit landmine into the pack.

The explosion from his throw and hidden mines tore through the goblins’ ranks.

“Finish them!” Ignoring the smoke, the students charged, skills flashing.

This team’s luck and knowledge of terrain and monster skills made their ambush work.

Others fared worse—lost in unfamiliar zones or ambushed mid-fight by rival teams. Arguments turned violent; though no one died, injuries forced withdrawals.

Outside the forest, Dean Lind sat in the central tent flanked by Magic Academy officials. Level 25+ transmuters bustled around the camp.

It was the trial’s second day.

“Report,” Dean Lind ordered, eyeing the detailed forest map.

“Four teams withdrew, two disputes occurred, three minor injuries. All withdrawn teams are safe,” a transmuter replied.

Dean Lind nodded. “Which teams lead?”

“Fina’s team cleared multiple Thunder Ruins. Fenrir’s team reached the forest’s heart.”

“The Queen of Storms leads, as expected.”

“Fenrir performs well—the Sais family’s schemes bear fruit.”

“He might overtake her. Doesn’t Fina’s team have a level 16 weakling? He’ll crumble.”

“That ‘weakling’ is Midi—he passed the Flame Challenge during Fina’s assessment!”

Officials murmured theories.

“Dismissed,” Dean Lind told the transmuter. “Ensure safety above all. Our academy’s honor rests on Fina and Fenrir’s teams.”

“Yes, Dean.”

The Magic Academy had hosted battles before, but this unsupported week-long trial was unprecedented. Most students were nobility—any disaster would bring political storms. Hence the legion of transmuters monitoring the forest, with level 30 experts on standby.

Dean Lind approved. No incidents in a decade, despite the Queen’s faction and Senator’s faction’s usual tensions. This year would be no different.

Surely.