My master entered the tower. No one impeded his walk. I managed to bring the troops safely, but he did not stop to rest. With hesitant steps, he went to the classrooms where the analysis exam would take place—similar to what the Redcaps had experienced. I hated the idea, but it was the only way for them to understand the radically different concepts between the various magic schools. I convinced him to come eat something. As I dragged him to the cafeteria, I could not stop seeing in his gaze the emptiness that occurs when using such precise control magic. Normally, mages tire their bodies using magic, but he did not—he consumed little magic despite having power rivaling Lilith's. But today, he used an enormous amount of power. Add to that the enormous control and concentration needed to maintain the shield, be aware of melee attacks, and still take time to prepare the shield against the Lich's minions, the absorbing runes of the elves, and that brutal magic with which he decimated enemy ranks—even now, those spheres would not disappear. They could resist up to three more invocations, only requiring that they be attacked or the city be attacked. All that control affected him—after prolonged use, his mind wandered for hours... I feared he would not return.
While we drank tea, I did my best to convince him. He was very tired, pressured while preparing the new filters against those divine powers. This battle could have ended it... perhaps not, but he could have tried. He looked at the cup—he knew he had drunk from its contents, but every time he looked at it again, I saw that slight surprise of realizing there was liquid inside. Of course, he denied those concerns. He insisted he knew what he was doing, that the rules for choosing candidates had to be supervised by him. Normally, I let him talk—that calmed him. But today, I interrupted him. His voice was gradually lowering. A dripping indicated he was not asleep—it was not saliva dripping; it was blood from his nose pouring into his tea. Stupid! That was why he looked at the cup with surprise—he had been bleeding from the nose from the effort. He was so stressed that he drank his blood without realizing it, but the unpleasant taste was what made him look away. This was bad. I did not think any of our people knew enough medicine. The most I could do was take him to his quarters. He struggled a little, but when I repeated his evaluation method word for word, he let me take him to his bed. He was fifty years old but looked like an old man... So frustrating not having the necessary power! How I wished I could take the weight off him. But the few level-tens were on various missions; I had never taken the exam to level up but never thought it necessary. I hoped he was right.
The hall was full of foolish young people, mostly idealists, hoping their learning would bring them women, liquor—in short, that it would be worth wasting their adolescence here. Others were nervous to go into action. I was sure many had spied on my master—I did not think they understood what he did. They knew he had a shield that made him invincible; they wanted that knowledge—some for good purposes, others like me, only hoping to understand how it worked. Worse than knowing was the fear of not having enough. Our leader was truly someone with power.
I introduced myself. Most did not even turn to look at me—they were all young and had just learned their arts. I was sure I could not take them all on, but I did not need to. I just said that I would be the one to evaluate them, and everyone fell silent. They looked at me as an enemy; they knew the Whitecap leader would not doubt my judgment, but since I dealt with Lilith, few of those present held me in esteem. They thought I conspired with the enemy—I did not care.
I told them that what they were about to see was not a simulation—no one created this scenario. What they would observe was a fight to the death between the invaders near Bloody Coin and the level-ten Redcap mages. The evaluation would consist of finding the means by which the Redcaps faced the threat of an army of ten thousand enemies without the "divine" support that seemed to envelop them. One asked the reason for this fight. So before anything happened, I gave a point to that young man—Radgart, I think his name was. I explained that the invaders used a particular arcane technology which extracted magic generated by humans, considering other mythical creatures as aberrations. If an adult received that tattoo, they would be drained, their body would shrink to nothing. If a minor, they would suffer irreversible mental damage, would worship this mythical figure, and would defend it with their life, while also giving their magical potential to keep feeding it.
Many fell silent after this explanation; most took notes, others sought more advanced explanations, but in general, the response was good. A sound from my master's emitter told me they had made contact with the enemy. Even though I hated this, I would stay to watch. I imposed some of my power and began to show everything on multiple projections—the main one in the center and those of his students—less than ten—in the corners. Nothing had started yet; everyone had expectant faces, a few frightened, but no one unaware of the night's sound. Suddenly, several bodies were thrown into the sky—they were the spies. The traps they activated were so simple I was embarrassed by their instruction. But seeing the Redcaps use a shot that exceeded their magical influence field—all except their leader, who I estimated had as much power as my Whitecap leader—exploding everyone into wet fireworks, I shuddered. This was going to be a slaughter.