Chapter 27 : Knowledge Competition
The shock from Liliane’s earth-shattering spell hadn’t fully subsided when the second group of the magical practical exam prepared to take the stage.
In the arena, staff scrambled to replace the shattered targets, while the stands and waiting areas buzzed with chatter.
“Hey, look, the first in Group 2 is that Aurora!”
“The special-admit who boasted about becoming class leader on her first day?”
“Yeah, her! All talk—let’s see if she’s got the skills to back it up.”
Whispers flooded Ailiya’s ears.
She, too, gazed curiously at the small figure standing confidently in the arena’s center, ready for her test.
Aurora, the special-admit.
Shorter than Ailiya, always glued to her gaming console or scavenging snacks, her head full of bizarre ideas and chuunibyou declarations that left people baffled.
Ailiya couldn’t gauge her true strength.
She’d never seen Aurora go all out.
On the field, Aurora stood like a drama queen about to take the stage. She surveyed the stands, basking in the stir she’d caused, a smug smile spreading across her face.
Then, striking a classic pose—right hand covering her right eye, leaving only her gleaming green left eye visible—she let out a booming laugh: “Hahaha! Mortals, behold! Witness the power that will overturn the laws of the world, the supreme glory I bestow upon you!”
There it is, Ailiya sighed inwardly, covering her face, her secondhand embarrassment flaring.
After her chuuni speech, Aurora, as if completing a ritual, tossed her head, her golden hair tracing a brilliant arc.
She planted her feet in a sturdy stance, and a lavish wand embedded with a massive green gem materialized in her hand.
Tapping the wand’s tip to her forehead, she closed her eyes and began chanting a prelude incantation.
“By the ancient covenant, heed my call, elemental spirits slumbering in chaos…”
As her chant progressed, the arena’s atmosphere shifted dramatically.
The clear sky darkened with gathering clouds, fierce winds whipping the decorative ribbons.
An indescribable pressure descended, as if the world’s light was funneling into Aurora’s wand.
“What… what incredible mana condensation!” the news club announcer’s voice trembled through the amplifier. “The weather above the arena is changing!”
Aurora’s eyes snapped open, her green pupils blazing with golden flames.
She thrust her wand forward with regal flair, shouting a name dripping with cringe: “Ultimate Trio-Genesis Tempest!”
A high-level fourth-tier triple composite spell!
A devastating torrent of earth, water, and hurricane elements, its power even more ferocious and unrestrained than Liliane’s Thunderfire Tempest.
Boom!
Half the arena, including the freshly replaced targets, was obliterated.
Debris and soil were hurled skyward by the blast, like a mini meteor shower hurtling toward the stands.
At the critical moment, a translucent magical barrier sprang up, deflecting the flying rubble.
Vice Principal Melissa stood, wand raised, a wry smile on her face.
“Really, kids these days have no sense of restraint.”
She muttered, then flicked her wand, restoring the ravaged arena at a visible pace, as if nothing had happened.
On the field, Aurora exhaled deeply, steadying her surging mana.
The judges exchanged glances, unanimously awarding a perfect score.
No kidding—with that destructive force, denying her a perfect score might get the judges’ stand blown up next.
The students following Aurora paled, their pressure so intense some looked ready to faint.
Aurora strutted off the field, scanning the crowd, quickly spotting Ailiya in the corner.
Like a homing bird, she skipped over, leaped up, and slapped Ailiya’s shoulder hard.
“So? Wasn’t I epic?” she beamed.
“Yeah, so epic I’m traumatized,” Ailiya said, rubbing her sore shoulder with a wry smile.
“You’re so good, you’re stressing me out.”
“What about you?” Aurora leaned in, curious. “What spell are you planning? How’re you gonna wow the crowd?”
“Me? Passing’s enough,” Ailiya said, clenching her fists, spouting nonsense earnestly. “People need to lower their expectations! That’s how you open the door to hope and surprises!”
As if!
In truth, her heart was pounding out of her chest.
Her Flame Arrow against Clarissa was pure luck.
She’d tried it secretly since, and her success rate was abysmal—two or three out of ten attempts, at best.
If she flubbed it in front of the whole school…
She’d be done for.
“Gotta prep for the theory exam!” Aurora, oblivious to Ailiya’s inner turmoil, patted her head. “The class leader title’s waiting for me! Catch you later!”
Humming, she skipped off, leaving Ailiya alone in disarray.
As Group 2 finished and Group 3’s exam loomed, Ailiya’s nerves spiked, her palms and soles slick with sweat, fidgeting restlessly on the bench.
“Ailiya.”
A cool, familiar voice came from behind.
“It’s just an entrance exam, and you’re squirming like a flea on a grill.”
Ailiya spun around to find Liliane seated on the bench behind her, unnoticed until now.
She sat with perfect poise, legs crossed, hands resting on her knees, a faint smile playing on her lips as she watched Ailiya with interest.
Though her words were sharp, Ailiya noticed her usual icy demeanor was softer today.
Her perfect score must’ve put her in a good mood.
But a good mood didn’t mean Ailiya would take her jabs lying down!
Clearing her throat, she decided to fight back, quoting a line from a knight novel she’d read: “A true warrior, on the eve of battle, is filled with a thirst for honor and awe of the unknown. Only empty-headed brutes mistake this sacred tension for mere cowardice.”
Liliane raised an eyebrow, her smile widening.
“The Tale of Garland’s Knights, Volume 3, Arthur’s inner monologue before the Battle of Sighing Bridge. Well-written, but it flopped commercially.”
“Huh?” Ailiya gaped. How did she know? That book was obscure!
“It was briefly popular among the capital’s noblewomen when it came out,” Liliane explained coolly, reading Ailiya’s shock. “No surprise I know it.”
Ailiya, unconvinced, tried another: “The sage’s silence is gold; the fool’s clamor is rust.”
“The Sage and the King, Romaney’s fable collection. Too basic—children read it.”
“When fate’s tide pushes you to a cliff, either learn to fly or… embrace the thrill of the fall!”
“Black Sail Queen, a third-rate pirate novel.”
“You… you…” Ailiya collapsed, pointing at Liliane, trembling. “Are you a librarian or what?!”
Liliane finally let out a clear, bell-like laugh, crisp as ice water on jade.
“Your reading’s limited to pop fiction, it seems.”
Her eyes glinted with mischief. “Here’s one for you: ‘The stars’ paths foretell the shift of crowns, yet mortal choices can sway the heavens.’ Where’s it from?”
“I… I…” Ailiya stammered, red-faced, unable to answer.
“The Song of the Starweavers, an ancient elven epic,” Liliane said gracefully, giving her a look reserved for fools. “Instead of trash novels, read something useful. Your brain shouldn’t just be for scheming debt repayment.”
Ailiya’s face flushed, like a cat with its tail stepped on.
Muttering under her breath, she grumbled: “Show-off… just read a few more books… big deal… capitalist… demon… vampire…”
“Talking behind someone’s back isn’t ladylike,” Liliane’s icy voice cut in.
Ailiya looked up to see Liliane staring coldly, arms crossed.
She clamped her mouth shut, lowering her head like a scolded child.
Just then, the announcer called: “Group 3 candidates, please gather at the arena entrance!”
My turn!
Ailiya’s heart leaped to her throat.
She stood nervously, but Liliane’s gaze softened.
“Go on,” she said, her voice carrying a rare warmth. “Do well. I’ll be here.”
Ailiya stared, stunned.
In the sunlight, Liliane’s flawless face, softened by that gentle look, was breathtakingly beautiful.
If only… if only she could always be this kind, she’d be perfect…
The thought barely formed when Liliane added with a smirk: “But if I find out you failed… you’re dead.”
I knew it! Her kindness has an expiration date shorter than day-old bread!