Flora walked behind that white line and stood still.
‘My best magic is definitely ice. And this time, there’s no way I’ll mess up.’
She raised her hand, palm facing the target.
Mana surged from her body, flowed along her arm to her fingertips, and gathered in her palm.
Ice.
The air began to condense tiny white ice crystals, which gathered more and more, gradually growing larger, until finally an ice cone formed above her palm.
Just the right size, and the control was normal, very good.
Flora waved her hand, and the ice cone shot out instantly.
Ssshh—
The ice cone grazed the edge of the target and hit the wall behind, shattering into several pieces.
Flora was stunned.
‘This… seems like I went too easy.’
‘But it’s fine. If I went easy, I went easy.’
The young teacher was also stunned, as if he hadn’t expected this result, his pen hovering in midair.
“…First shot, miss.”
He quickly lowered his head and wrote it down.
The teacher didn’t say anything.
“A bit nervous.”
Flora looked at the wall, then at the teacher. Inside, she wanted to laugh.
Of course, she didn’t show it.
Next came the second shot.
She formed another ice cone and raised her hand.
This time she aimed carefully.
Crack.
The ice cone hit the target, then shattered into pieces and fell to the ground.
A direct hit on the bullseye.
The young teacher nodded and wrote it down.
The third shot also hit the bullseye.
The fourth shot tilted somehow.
As she prepared for the fifth shot, she raised her hand and thought for a moment, finally deciding to aim slightly off.
The ice cone flew out.
Crack.
It hit the first ring outside the red.
The teacher lowered his head to write, then took a closer look at Flora.
Five shots done.
One miss, one slightly off, one close, two perfect hits.
A fairly normal level. Maybe she really was a bit nervous.
The young teacher finished writing the last note and looked up.
“Your aim isn’t bad,” he said. “Now for power. See that one over there?”
He pointed to the other side of the room.
Flora looked over.
There stood another target, larger than the previous one, its silver surface pitted and scarred.
“That one’s for power. Hit it with your strongest magic, just once.”
Flora walked over and stood in front of the metal target.
Those pitted dents were left by previous test-takers.
But it also showed that the new students’ strongest magic was quite powerful. The noticeably thicker metal target had many dents, while the previous one had none.
She raised her hand.
Even though most people’s strongest magic wasn’t weak, she couldn’t use too much power.
She had to hold back, but not too much.
Mana surged out, more than before.
The air condensed ice, much more than before. White ice gathered continuously.
Flora estimated that she should make it harder than the target practice, sharpen the tip a little.
She felt it was about right, ready to release.
Then she swung her hand forward sharply.
An ice cone about twice as thick as before shot out.
No, why is it this big?
Bang!
The sound was loud, echoing in the room.
The ice cone slammed into the metal target, still shattered, but instead of falling to the ground, it splintered and embedded itself into the wall.
One piece almost landed at her feet.
When she came to her senses, she saw seven or eight broken ice spikes stuck in the wall.
She looked at the target.
The surface had a huge dent, much larger than the surrounding “little pits.”
The young teacher walked over and stood beside her, looking at the dent, then at the messy wall, silent for a few seconds.
Then he lowered his head, wrote something else on the board, who knows what.
“Go through that door. There’s one more test.”
“But… that’s fine.”
He picked up the recording crystal as he spoke.
Only his tone was different from before.
But Flora didn’t leave immediately. She waited until the teacher was almost at the door before following.
The third door opened.
This room was even larger.
In the center stood a figure.
Not a teacher, but a magic puppet.
It seemed to be made of alloy, about as tall as a person, with a dull luster over its whole body.
Complex gear structures at the joints. Its head was a hemispherical hood with no face, only two slits, probably for observation.
It stood there, motionless.
The teacher placed the recording crystal into the room’s slot.
“See that puppet? It’s going to attack you. Your job is to attack it while avoiding being hit as much as possible. Use any method you like, but try not to break it. We’ll record your combat for evaluation. Once it starts, I won’t call a stop until the test ends or you’re hit too many times.”
Flora looked at the puppet.
It still didn’t move.
“Got it,” Flora said.
“Then let’s begin.”
The middle-aged man walked to the corner of the room and pressed something on the wall.
The puppet moved.
Its head turned, those two slits locking onto Flora.
Something felt wrong.
It took a step and charged toward her.
No, this speed is wrong, too fast.
Too fast for what should be a normal test.
Flora’s pupils constricted slightly. Her body moved before her mind.
She dodged to the side, then released an ice cone that struck the puppet’s right arm.
The metal arm was knocked off course, grazing past Flora.
‘This is wrong, very wrong.’
She quickly dodged the second punch, stepping back several paces to create distance.
‘This is definitely not the intensity of a normal test.’
‘What’s going on?’
The puppet didn’t stop.
It moved even faster.
Flora quickly released nine ice cones, but the puppet dodged them all.
She clenched her fist, and an ice wall instantly rose between her and the puppet.
But just as she was about to catch her breath and sidestep away, the puppet punched through the ice wall.
It charged toward her through the shattering ice crystals.
It pursued relentlessly, its arms swinging at her one after another, punch after punch, leaving no time to breathe.
Flora sidestepped, ducked, backed away, rolled.
Fast. She had no time to think about these movements; they were instinctive, subconscious reactions.
Each time she barely avoided.
She still held back, unable to use her full strength, so she just dodged and countered instinctively.
Then another punch grazed her face.
She seized that brief opening and fired a large ice cone.
After the ice cone struck the puppet, it clearly slowed down, its movements decelerating.
Flora quickly distanced herself and took a few deep breaths.
Then she followed up with another ice cone to delay the puppet’s recovery.
But before long, the puppet recovered, returning to its original speed.
It chased her, not giving her a chance to stop.
‘If I used my full strength, I could definitely beat it.’
‘But right now, I can’t use my full strength.’