The murmur in the room still lingered when they were made to move.
The knights didn't raise their voices. They simply walked, and the group understood they had to follow. Arlen moved behind Sora and Nira down a long corridor of pale stone, leaving behind the room where the kingdom's leaders had looked at them like livestock.
The building didn't feel like a fortress.
It was a ministry.
Tall columns. Walls covered in symbols. Scribes seated behind desks piled with documents. Quills that never stopped. Seals pressed into parchment. Eyes that lifted just long enough to assess them… then returned to work.
There was nothing grand about it.
Just bureaucracy.
"Is this the capital?" Sora whispered.
"I don't know," Nira replied. "But this is where they decide who matters."
Arlen didn't argue.
They were led into a wide chamber. The floor was marked with carved lines, and at the far end, several mages and officials stood behind a long table. Four pedestals were arranged at the center.
A man in gray robes stepped forward.
"Before you are sent to the Academy," he said, "you will be evaluated. The Kingdom does not invest in what cannot produce results."
"The Academy?" someone echoed.
"The Academy of Aurelion," he replied. "From there come the commanders, mages, and champions who keep this world alive. It is where those who serve are shaped… and those who don't are discarded."
A pause.
"After these tests, you will be assigned to different classes. Anyone who does not wish to train is free to leave. The Kingdom won't answer for them."
No one spoke of leaving.
"Begin."
They were called one by one.
The first artifact was a blue crystal, suspended in the air. When touched, some made it flare brightly. Others barely stirred it.
"Mana capacity," the scribes recorded.
Then a scroll. A hand placed over it, and symbols either appeared or didn't.
"Spiritual attunement."
Next, an old sword. It didn't cut, but some trembled the moment they gripped it.
"Aura affinity."
Finally, a dark sphere ringed with silver markings.
"Divine resonance."
Sora was called.
The crystal flared with intensity. The scroll filled with symbols. The sphere trembled faintly.
"High multi-compatibility," a scribe murmured. "Mage and divine channel—high potential."
Sora swallowed.
"Is that… good?"
"It's dangerous," the mage replied. "Which makes it valuable."
Nira went next.
The sword reacted instantly, vibrating like something waking up.
"Elevated aura," one of them said. "Very elevated."
Nira let go of the sword.
"So that means I'm strong?"
"It means your body can survive where others die," the mage said. "What you do with that is up to you."
Min-jae stepped forward in silence.
The scroll filled with marks. The sword gave a faint response.
"Spiritualist," a scribe noted. "And basic aura affinity."
Min-jae said nothing.
Then it was Arlen's turn.
He placed his hand on the crystal.
Nothing.
The scroll.
Nothing.
The sword.
Nothing.
The sphere.
Nothing.
One of the scribes frowned.
"Is it defective?"
Another checked the artifacts.
"No."
The mage studied Arlen more closely.
"Again."
Arlen did.
Nothing.
"No affinities on record," the scribe said at last.
A murmur spread through the room.
"That's unusual," someone said. "All the transported show some degree of potential."
Arlen clenched his fists.
"Is that bad?"
The mage looked at him for a second longer.
"No," he said at last. "It's not bad."
He didn't explain.
"He'll be sent to the waiting room," one of the officials ordered.
Arlen stayed still for a moment.
Then he moved.
The results weren't announced right away.
They were taken to a side room, where scribes continued writing and comparing records. Time stretched, slow and uncomfortable.
Eventually, an old man in blue robes stepped forward.
"Listen," he said. "We've determined your affinities."
He began calling them out, one by one.
"Ren Ishida… high mana compatibility."
"Sora… Magic and Divinity."
"Nira… Aura."
"Min-jae… Spiritual and Aura."
When he reached Arlen, there was a brief pause.
"Arlen Weiss…" he said. "No affinities on record."
A few glanced his way.
"He will be assigned to the Basic Martial branch."
No judgment.
Just classification.
Afterward, the knights led them down another long corridor, this time toward the outside.
The afternoon air hit them as they stepped out.
Carts and carriages waited in a line.
"To the Academy," one of the knights said.
They boarded in groups.
Arlen sat in silence.
He watched through the carriage window as the ministry building fell behind, fading into columns and seals.
He had been measured.
Recorded.
Assigned.
Not as someone special.
As something they didn't quite know where to place.
And that…
hurt more.
He looked at the paper in his hand.
Basic Martial branch.
He wondered if Yui would have found it funny.
He decided she probably would.