53 lines
4.3 KiB
Markdown
53 lines
4.3 KiB
Markdown
---
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title: "Chapter 3: Proving Grounds"
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slug: "ch-3"
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novel: "the-beginning-after-the-end"
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number: 3
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views: 1620000
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likes: 118000
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wordCount: 2900
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createdAt: "2017-04-13"
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---
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The academy entrance examination began at dawn in an arena carved into the mountainside. Before Arthur stood three hundred other candidates, each radiating mana in quantities that would have seemed impossible a month ago. Now he recognized each as a low-level mage—talented, but ultimately inferior to the power sleeping within his own veins.
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The first test was written. Theory, basics, fundamentals. Arthur completed it in half the time allotted, answering every question with intuitive certainty. The proctors exchanged glances but said nothing.
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The second test was practical. Candidates were given blocks of stone and asked to shape them using mana. Most managed crude shapes—circles, squares, rough pyramids. Arthur created a perfect dragon in mid-flight, every scale precisely rendered, wings extended with anatomical accuracy.
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A woman with silver hair and eyes that held centuries of knowledge approached him after the test concluded. She was tall, elegant, and radiated such overwhelming power that Arthur nearly staggered backward. A Realm Breaker, something within him recognized immediately. A mage who'd transcended normal limitations.
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"What's your name, prodigy?" she asked.
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"Arthur Leywin," he replied.
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"I'm Veight, dean of combat magic at Xyrus Academy," she said. "That dragon you created—where did the design come from?"
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Arthur hesitated. How could he explain that the design came from memories that weren't his? "It just felt right," he said carefully.
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Veight smiled enigmatically. "The final examination will take place in the arena tomorrow. Combat trials. Don't hold back."
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That night, sleeping in the dormitory with the other candidates, Arthur dreamed of crystal towers and battles between beings of pure magic. In the dreams, he fought with techniques that transcended physical form, wielding mana as naturally as breathing. When he woke, he understood them not as flight fancy but as actual knowledge—skills encoded in his very being.
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The combat trials were brutal. Candidates were matched based on preliminary scores and forced to duel until elimination. Arthur's first opponent was a confident young man with well-developed fire magic, who came at him with confident volleys of flames.
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Arthur didn't even move. Instead, he shaped a barrier of pure mana around himself—a defensive technique that shouldn't have been possible for someone without years of training. The flames washed over him like rain, completely harmless.
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His opponent's confidence turned to confusion when Arthur countered with a simple spell—a wave of force that sent the young man flying across the arena. He didn't get up.
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Four more opponents came. Four more fell. By the time his fifth match ended, the crowd had gone quiet, awed and unsettled. Arthur wasn't just winning—he was dominating in ways that shouldn't be possible for a first-time mage.
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Veight watched from the judges' box, her expression unreadable but her eyes glowing with interest.
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In the final match against the academy's current top student—a third-year with actual combat experience—Arthur finally encountered true resistance. The older mage fought with precision and purpose, using techniques that exploited gaps in Arthur's defense. They dueled across the arena for ten minutes, exchanging spells of increasing complexity.
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But Arthur's opponent was still fundamentally working within the limitations of a human mage. He was strong, skilled, and experienced. Arthur was something else entirely.
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When the older mage finally fell, exhausted and defeated, the crowd erupted. Veight descended into the arena herself, unusual for someone of her status.
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"Scholarship," she announced to the crowd. "Full scholar status, beginning immediately. You'll be trained directly by the academy's leadership."
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As Arthur caught his breath, accepting the accolades of the crowd, he wondered what they would all think if they knew the truth. That he wasn't a prodigy emerging from their world. That he was a refugee from a dying reality, powered by artifacts and abilities that predated their civilization itself.
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He had proven himself today. But this was only the beginning. In Dicathen, power was both blessing and curse. And Arthur had far too much of both.
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