A week had passed, and tests were approaching. These tests offered the students what could be considered "real experience," though the only thing truly at stake was their grade.
In the faculty room, two professors—responsible for the first-year combat and support departments—sat across from one another. They were reading through student evaluations, tapping the papers against the table to align them.
"The first years this time around are interesting, huh?" Professor Myer remarked.
"You say that every year," Professor Laurent replied with a soft scowl.
"Yes, but I mean it this time. Lucinia, of the Numar household. Harmony, daughter of one of the greatest healers the city Z has produced. Barnaby, the so-called genius of the ages. Lucas Najim, the prodigy speedster. And… Malphas Darkwood, the late Fateweaver—a genius in hand-to-hand combat."
"Speaking of, I haven't seen Malphas's physical results yet."
"Ah, yes. About that…" Myer looked only slightly concerned before letting out a deep sigh. "They… were unique."
"How unique?"
"According to the results, he shouldn't even be a Fateweaver. That's based on his essence scores. Physically, though? He ranks near the top. You wouldn't guess it at first glance—he looks frail. When I first saw him, I thought he was a girl because of how petite his face was." Professor Myer let out a small chuckle at the memory. "But his strength and speed are nothing to scoff at. Still, what he makes up for in strength, he lacks in awareness. He's powerful in one-on-one combat, but if he were to fight a beast in the wild, he'd likely fall due to poor instincts."
"That still doesn't explain why he shouldn't be a Fateweaver."
"Well, at first, even Barnaby—who tested him—thought the same thing. But during his interview, it came out that he has a god-given name."
"A god-given name?!" Laurent's eyes widened in surprise, her curiosity deepening. "If that's the case, then the deity backing him must have intentionally removed his essence."
"I thought the same thing. But what kind of deity would be so cruel as to take away what defines a Fateweaver?"
"I'll have to check on him later… see if he really had any essence to begin with."
"That'd be smart. But don't bother asking about his first trial."
"Why not?"
"Professor Orr mentioned that, during the interview, Malphas spaced out for nearly ten minutes every time someone asked about it. It was like something was missing."
"My, my… it seems you were right. A cruel deity is playing tricks on us." For some reason, a little grin appeared on the side of her cheek.
"Perhaps. But it doesn't matter for now. All we can do is watch and see what the boy manages to accomplish."
"Who knows, " Professor Laurent chimed in, "he might end up like the one-third of the first-years and be sent to the second trial… the world no one has ever completed in centuries."
"We can only wait and see."
—
"Alright, class is dismissed," LeConte stated as she laid down a piece of chalk. Students let out sighs of relief, others stretched, and some began to chat.
Malphas was one of the ones stretching. As he picked up his notebooks, he walked down the steps and headed toward the doorway.
'Man, I'm done,' he thought, his eyes a bit worn out, faint bags forming underneath. 'I shouldn't have crammed last night if I knew sleep deprivation was this bad.'
As he passed the other students chatting into the crowded hallway, students were gathering around a board. They all started talking as the board read "Pending" with large text above that said:
"TEST: SCENARIO GATE COMPLETION"
"TEAMS OF 3"
"I wonder what the scenario gate will be this year?" a student asked.
"I don't know, but I heard it's easy as long as you do your share," another responded.
"Really? But like… most combat department students are greedy and egotistical as hell, so it's going to be hard."
A sharp voice cut through the chatter. "Shut up, the teams are showing."
It displayed pictures of students under a team number ranging from 1–40, with three students under each team, showing their names and which class they were from.
Malphas's curiosity got the best of him, and he looked up. Students groaned, and others cheered. Malphas's eyes landed upon his name and picture—they used the one the News had taken of him when he was captured, so it was easy for Malphas to recognize.
He could only scoff. 'Kinda feel like a criminal with that photo.'
He was the second member of Team 28, between William Donstho and a support student named Dorthy Nickt.
'Dorthy Nickt, Dorthy Nickt, Dorthy Nickt...' Her name repeated in his head several times as he tried to recall her. Then it clicked. 'Oh, right—she was the one who healed me and that other kid a week ago after the fight.'
His eyes panned to William. Though he thought nothing of him, the truth was that he had forgotten William even existed. Like an afterthought, he had been more focused on other things—like food or training. If Malphas had remembered, he would've thought of him as a portable stove, thanks to William's fire abilities.
His phone buzzed, interrupting his thoughts. He struggled to pull it out in the crowd of students, but the first notification was an email. It was from Barnaby, and it read:
"Your specialized Fateweaver clothing is ready. Come to my lab to receive it."
Malphas perked up like an excited dog and quickly weaved through the students, casually speed-walking as he turned the corner toward the Science department.
He passed by William, who was walking next to Harmony, who was struggling to hold her textbooks.
"Here, Harmony, let me help," William offered as she staggered with the weight.
Her eyes, full of determination, shot to William. "N-NO!" Her voice was loud. "I can carry them myself this time! I'm not as petite as you think!"
"Jeez, alright," William backed off, a bit disappointed by his sister's rejection.
—
A metal door slid open as Malphas walked into Barnaby's lab.
"Hey Malphas, how've you been?" Barnaby was tinkering at his desk, black smudge streaks on his face and his sleeves rolled up.
Malphas's eyes locked onto Barnaby's face. With slight hesitation, he replied, "I—I've been good. I got your email."
"Right, right. Your outfit." He turned around, looking left and right through a pile of metal and wires. "I just gotta find it real quick." He dug through the pile, tossing out various machines and inventions.
Malphas's eyes followed each scrap tossed aside like a child watching shooting stars.
"Ah, here it is."
Malphas's curiosity snapped back to Barnaby.
Barnaby had pulled a metallic briefcase out of the rubble. He wiped off the dust and cleared his desk, gesturing for Malphas to come closer.
Malphas crept forward as the locks on the case clicked open and the lid lifted, revealing his new attire as a Fateweaver.