The two basic tests concluded, and everyone was led to another room.
"The final potential assessment," Gray said, pointing to several metal chairs in the center of the room. "Memory and concentration."
"First up is the instantaneous memory matrix test."
Several youths sat down. A complex image flashed across a black crystal panel in front of their metal chairs.
The image consisted of fifteen completely unfamiliar Runes arranged in a three-by-five matrix. It appeared for only three seconds before vanishing completely.
"Begin replication."
The first youth scratched his head, his face flushing red with effort. In the end, he only managed to scrawl three or four distorted symbols on his drawing board, all in the wrong positions.
"Failure. C-rank."
Among the others, the best result was someone who barely managed to draw seven of the Runes, and even those were riddled with errors.
This was a task no ordinary person could possibly complete.
Finally, it was Allen's turn. He sat calmly, his eyes fixed on the black crystal panel.
"Get ready."
The moment before the image appeared, a silent command was issued in Allen's mind. 'DSeek, initiate image capture. Full data analysis.'
HUMMM.
The matrix of fifteen Runes flashed across the crystal panel.
To an ordinary person, it was just a chaotic blur of light and shadow lasting three seconds. But in Allen's "vision," time slowed to a crawl. Those three seconds were broken down into three hundred separate, static frames.
Every stroke of every Rune, every turn, every node, was clearly frozen in time, magnified, and analyzed.
[DSeek: Image capture complete. Total of 15 unique patterns. Structural analysis complete. Matrix structure recorded. Ready for recall.]
"Replicate," Gray's voice rang out.
Allen picked up the drawing tool on the table—a metal pen that dispensed energy ink.
He didn't hesitate for a second.
His wrist was perfectly steady, not a single tremor as the pen's tip flew across the drawing board.
Lines of energy were sketched with precision, forming one complex, esoteric Rune after another.
His speed was staggering, as if he wasn't working from memory but tracing an invisible template.
The first, the second… the fifth…
There was no pause, no hesitation. His movements were fluid and seamless, executed in a single, unbroken flow.
The snickers from the onlookers died down.
Everyone stared, wide-eyed, watching the boy "transcribe a celestial tome from memory" as if he were some kind of monster.
Ten… thirteen… fifteen!
When the final stroke of the last Rune was complete, the entire matrix was displayed perfectly on the board. Fifteen Runes—no more, no less. Their positions, even the structure of every single stroke, were an exact match to the image that had flashed moments before.
A one hundred percent perfect replication.
The gray-robed Wizard, Gray, stared intently at Allen's drawing board. For the first time, an emotion—shock—appeared on his face.
"Memory… rating…" he stammered. "S-rank! A perfect score!"
Even the black-robed Wizard, who had been silent until now, lifted his head. From the shadows of his hood, a sharp gaze locked onto Allen.
Next was the concentration test.
Allen was placed inside an Array filled with noise and illusions. At the same time, he was required to track sixteen points of light moving at high speed along different trajectories.
For the others, this was a form of Hell-like torture.
But for Allen, who possessed an artificial intelligence, it was nothing more than a basic multi-threading operation.
'DSeek, establish sixteen independent tracking threads. Mark targets.'
'Block ineffective noise on the auditory channel. Filter interference on the visual channel.'
His brain had become a coolly operating computer. The chaos of the outside world was stripped away, layer by layer, until only the core data stream remained.
The final result was a foregone conclusion.
"Concentration rating: S-rank."
Two consecutive S-ranks had everyone in the test hall staring at Allen as if he were a monster, whispering amongst themselves.
About two hours passed before the tests concluded.
Gray stood before the crowd, a sheet of parchment materializing in his hand.
Everyone held their breath, their eyes glued to the list of names. It was as if it weren't a piece of paper, but a writ of judgment determining their passage to paradise.
Gray shook the parchment, his gaze sweeping over the faces below—some deathly pale, others filled with hope.
"The tally is complete," he announced. "Of the three hundred and fifty-two candidates in this batch, ninety-eight have passed the comprehensive assessment. These individuals have the potential to become Wizards and may pursue advanced studies. As for the rest of you, tomorrow you will find your own path before the Star Gate. You may enter a workshop or join one of the smaller Wizard Organizations—the choice is yours. If you wish to return home, you'll have to earn the fare for your passage yourself."
Suppressed sobs rippled through the crowd. A two-thirds elimination rate—the reality was even crueler than the rumors. The faces of the youths who hadn't even passed turned ashen, as if their spines had been ripped out.
"Among those who passed, thirty-six possess A-rank talent."
At the mention of "A-rank," the tense crowd relaxed slightly. Thirty-six names were called out in succession. Most of the youths whose names were read let out a sigh of relief, unable to conceal the joy on their faces.
It was said that in the world of Wizards, an A-rank was already something to brag about.
The youth who had drawn seven Runes earlier puffed out his chest and shot a defiant look around, clearly thinking he was now at the top of the pecking order.
But then Gray's voice rang out again, his tone now holding a hint of deeper meaning.
"S-rank… two people."
The proud youth froze, turning his head to steal a glance at Allen.
"Vera," Gray announced the first name.
From a corner of the crowd, a girl who had kept her head bowed the entire time, her presence almost nonexistent, slowly stepped forward.
"And…" Gray paused, his gaze falling on Allen, who was leaning against a porthole.
"Allen. S-rank in memory, S-rank in concentration. Top marks in both."
WOW.
If Vera's S-rank was astonishing, Allen's results were simply unbelievable.
The few who had just been smug about their A-ranks now wore mixed expressions. They had nearly killed themselves just to scrape by with an A-rank, but this guy? He got two S-ranks as easily as if he were taking a stroll in his backyard?
"This is unfair," someone muttered, their tone dripping with jealousy. "Is his brain built differently from ours?"
Allen paid them no mind. On his retina, a pale blue data stream was refreshing.
He glanced at the girl named Vera. She seemed to sense his gaze and turned her head. Their eyes met for an instant before both looked away.
"Quiet."
The black-robed Wizard who had been sitting in the shadows stood up.
A bone-chilling presence swept through the hall, and all noise vanished instantly.
He walked to the front of the platform. Beneath his hood, his eyes glowed with an eerie blue light as he scanned the crowd of restless minds.
"Talent is just the ticket to entry. What you become depends on your own abilities."
The black-robed Wizard's voice was hoarse. "Gather in the main hall with your belongings tomorrow morning. You will be disembarking."
The crowd began to disperse. Gray had handed out all but one of the reports in his hand.
He personally handed the last parchment report to Allen. His attitude was no longer one of aloof indifference, as if observing ants, but now carried a trace of warmth.
"Allen Wesren. Your comprehensive assessment is 'Exceptional.' Take this and go get some rest. Congratulations. Tomorrow, you will have the privilege of choosing."
Allen accepted the report, gave a polite bow, and turned to leave.
Behind him, Wizard Gray held the test data for all the candidates. He stared at Allen's ratings and fell into a long silence.
Magic Power Affinity: A-rank. Meditation Aptitude: B-rank.
This indicated his soul's natural talent was merely excellent, far from top-tier.
And yet, his memory and concentration were both off the charts, reaching the theoretical maximum of S-rank.
It didn't make sense.
The strength and resilience of the mind are intrinsically linked to the essence of one's soul. Someone with a B-rank aptitude for Meditation should be utterly incapable of sustaining two S-rank evaluations.
Unless…
Victor muttered to himself, his voice so low only he could hear.
"Such extraordinary memory and concentration, yet his soul's fluctuations are subtly dissonant with this young body…"
"Is it a soul from another world? Or… some kind of ancient inheritance?"
He picked up a pen and, next to Allen's name, carefully drew a symbol.
A stark, red, dangerous question mark.