The remainder of the examinations passed quickly.
At least—
Quickly for Kel.
Not for the other applicants.
For them, every examination felt like a battle against fate itself.
Mental evaluations.
Reaction tests.
Mana sensitivity measurements.
Aura control examinations.
Strategic decision simulations.
Environmental adaptation trials.
One after another.
The academy continuously tested every aspect of an applicant.
Knowledge.
Talent.
Creativity.
Discipline.
Instinct.
Potential.
Every examination removed more students.
Every examination shattered more confidence.
Every examination reminded applicants why Aetherial Institute stood at the peak of the Empire.
Meanwhile—
Kel quietly moved from test to test.
Never achieving the absolute highest score.
Never achieving the lowest.
Always remaining within a strange middle ground.
Good enough to pass.
Not good enough to attract excessive attention.
Or at least—
That had been his plan.
Unfortunately.
Plans and reality rarely cooperated.
Especially when Kel was involved.
By late afternoon.
The final practical examination arrived.
Combat Assessment.
The examination most applicants feared.
The examination most applicants respected.
And the examination every instructor paid attention to.
Because talent meant little without application.
Knowledge meant little without execution.
Power meant little without control.
The combat assessment revealed truth.
Real truth.
The weak collapsed.
The arrogant were humbled.
The talented rose.
And monsters revealed themselves.
The combat arena occupied an enormous valley near the academy's eastern mountains.
Ancient observation platforms overlooked the battlefield.
Protective barriers covered the entire area.
Hundreds of applicants waited.
Thousands observed.
Instructors moved constantly between combat rings.
Recording scores.
Evaluating performances.
Making notes.
Meanwhile—
Kel arrived at Ring Twenty-Seven.
A circular stone arena nearly fifty meters wide.
Runes glowed faintly beneath its surface.
Protective formations surrounded it.
And standing opposite him—
An assistant instructor.
A man in his early thirties.
Athletic build.
Short black hair.
Sharp eyes.
A professional.
Someone experienced.
Someone dangerous.
The assistant instructor studied the information crystal in his hand.
Then looked toward Kel.
Then back toward the crystal.
Then toward Kel again.
The expression immediately concerned Kel.
Inside his mind—
Seiren sighed.
"Another one."
"What?"
"That look."
Kel already understood.
The assistant instructor smiled.
Not maliciously.
Not arrogantly.
Curiously.
The same curiosity people showed when approaching unusual creatures.
Unfortunately.
Kel had become one.
Meanwhile—
The instructor stepped forward.
"Applicant Aedon Flinth."
Kel nodded.
The instructor continued.
"Combat examination."
Simple.
Straightforward.
Good.
Kel preferred that.
Then—
The instructor's gaze moved toward Kel's spear.
Then toward his sword.
"Weapon preference?"
"Sword."
The assistant instructor nodded.
Then drew his own practice sword.
The signal was given.
The protective barrier activated.
The examination began.
The arena became silent.
Hundreds of eyes focused upon the ring.
Several instructors observed from nearby platforms.
Senior Instructor Varian stood among them.
Naturally.
The spoon remained in his hand.
Naturally.
Kel had given up questioning reality.
Meanwhile—
The assistant instructor adopted a combat stance.
Balanced.
Experienced.
Professional.
Then—
He attacked.
Fast.
Very fast.
The blade flashed through the air.
A precise strike.
Kel moved.
Not hurriedly.
Not dramatically.
Simply efficiently.
The sword passed harmlessly beside him.
The assistant instructor immediately followed with a second strike.
Then a third.
Then a fourth.
Each attack flowed smoothly.
Years of training became visible.
The crowd nodded.
A solid instructor.
A capable swordsman.
Meanwhile—
Kel continued avoiding.
Calmly.
Patiently.
Analyzing.
Inside his mind—
Seiren spoke.
"Are you going to keep dodging?"
"For now."
"The old spoon worshipper is watching."
Kel knew.
Unfortunately.
Varian watched very carefully.
Meanwhile—
The assistant instructor pressed forward.
The attacks accelerated.
The arena echoed with clashing steel.
Footsteps.
Wind pressure.
Aura.
The battle gradually intensified.
Several applicants became impressed.
Because even while defending—
Aedon Flinth displayed extraordinary composure.
Not a single unnecessary movement.
Not a single wasted step.
The assistant instructor noticed too.
His expression gradually changed.
Curiosity became seriousness.
Then seriousness became concentration.
Because he realized something.
He wasn't testing the applicant anymore.
The applicant was evaluating him.
Meanwhile—
Varian narrowed his eyes.
The spoon slowly lowered.
His smile vanished.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Then—
Kel finally drew his sword.
The crowd immediately became attentive.
The assistant instructor became cautious.
The battle had entered a new stage.
Steel met steel.
CLANG!
The sound echoed across the arena.
Then again.
And again.
The assistant instructor attacked aggressively.
Kel countered smoothly.
Their blades danced.
Fast.
Precise.
Controlled.
Several applicants watched with admiration.
Others with confusion.
Because something felt strange.
The battle looked ordinary.
Too ordinary.
Then—
Kel forgot something.
A very important thing.
A catastrophically important thing.
He forgot where he was.
For a brief moment.
His instincts moved naturally.
And when Kel's instincts moved naturally—
Problems appeared.
Usually large problems.
Then—
Aura gathered.
The crowd noticed immediately.
The assistant instructor noticed.
The observers noticed.
Two small points of silver light appeared behind Kel.
Tiny.
Beautiful.
Harmless looking.
The assistant instructor frowned.
"What is—"
Then—
The lights expanded.
Aura condensed.
Compressed.
Refined.
And finally.
Two floating swords appeared.
Silence.
Absolute silence.
The assistant instructor froze.
The applicants froze.
The instructors froze.
Even birds flying overhead seemed to pause.
The two aura swords slowly revolved around Kel.
Elegant.
Silent.
Beautiful.
Like miniature moons orbiting a planet.
Inside his mind—
Seiren immediately stopped laughing.
"...Kel."
Silence.
"You forgot."
Kel closed his eyes.
Internally.
Very internally.
Because yes.
He forgot.
The moment the swords appeared.
The realization struck.
Sovereign's Orbit Sword Arts.
Not Divine Spoon Art.
Not a famous explorer technique.
Something much worse.
Much.
Much worse.
Far above.
Several instructors stood up instantly.
One dropped his notebook.
Another nearly crushed a teacup.
A third stared in disbelief.
"No."
The instructor whispered.
"Impossible."
Another nodded slowly.
His eyes remained fixed upon the arena.
"The Sovereing's Orbit Sword Arts."
Silence spread.
Because everyone recognized it.
Everyone.
Throughout the Empire.
Many techniques achieved popularity.
Many achieved fame.
Only a few achieved legend.
And among recent legends—
One stood above the rest.
The martial path published by Reina Asheville.
The revolutionary sword art that had shaken countless sword academies.
The mysterious art that relied upon mental control rather than physical strength.
The legendary technique countless swordsmen attempted.
And almost nobody mastered.
The Sovereing's Orbit Sword Arts.
Meanwhile—
The assistant instructor stared.
Then stared harder.
His professional composure finally cracked.
Because he personally knew how difficult the technique was.
Everyone did.
Countless talented swordsmen failed to create even one stable orbiting blade.
Yet before him—
Two perfectly condensed aura swords floated calmly.
As though they belonged there.
As though this was natural.
As though reality itself approved.
The crowd exploded.
"Sovereing's Orbit Sword Arts!"
"That's Reina Asheville's technique!"
"No way!"
"Two swords!"
"How?!"
The noise spread across neighboring arenas.
More people looked.
Then more.
Then more.
The commotion grew rapidly.
Meanwhile—
Senior Instructor Varian slowly looked toward Kel.
Then toward the orbiting swords.
Then toward the recommendation letter within his information crystal.
Then toward the spoon in his hand.
For the first time that day.
The old instructor became silent.
Truly silent.
Because suddenly.
A possibility appeared.
A terrifying possibility.
The student of Nameless.
Mastery of Divine Spoon Art.
Mastery of Sovereing's Orbit Sword Arts.
Explorer.
Commoner.
Sixteen years old.
Something didn't add up.
Not at all.
Meanwhile—
Kel stood in the center of the arena.
The two aura swords orbiting silently around him.
The assistant instructor stared.
The crowd stared.
The academy stared.
And inside his mind—
Seiren finally began laughing again.
Softly.
Dangerously.
"Congratulations."
"What now?"
"You accidentally created another problem."
The Guardian sounded delighted.
Far away.
The setting sun illuminated the academy grounds.
And for the first time since arriving—
Aedon Flinth had unknowingly attracted the attention of people far more dangerous than curious students.
People who understood exactly how extraordinary two orbiting swords truly were.