Cycle of Destiny

Chapter 34 The Holy Magician's Apprenticeship Test

Harry followed Nasus on the path to the back hill, his eyes glazed over, as if he hadn't woken up yet. The air on the college path was damp with dew in the early morning.

"By the way, why did you apologize to me just now?" Nasus asked as they walked.

"It's nothing," Harry mumbled, his eyes scanning the familiar roads and plants around him warily. "It's just... I'm sorry I didn't come out sooner."

"What's the big deal?" Nasus smiled and didn't ask any more questions.

More and more people were on the road. Novice mages in black robes hurried by in groups of three or five; some people in blue intermediate mage robes walked more leisurely, but all were heading in the same direction; and you could even see a few high-level mages in gray robes walking towards the back mountain with serious expressions.

Many magic apprentices, who didn't even have proper robes, mingled in the crowd, their faces full of curiosity and excitement.

"See? I told you so quickly." Nasus looked like he'd already said it. "This is the first time a Holy Mage has publicly accepted apprentices at the academy. Even if you know you have no chance, who wouldn't want to see the Holy Mage in person? Besides, what if you get chosen?"

Harry silently followed the crowd. The closer they got to the back of the mountain, the louder the noise became, and the more chaotic and active the magical fluctuations in the air grew.

After turning a corner, the view suddenly opened up before me.

The flat, open space behind the hill, usually used for large-scale practice, was now completely occupied by people.

A dense crowd of people thronged the area, their voices and chatter blending into a buzzing tide.

At the very front of the open space stood a transparent platform constructed with magic. The academy dean, several magic deacons—all dressed in red magician robes symbolizing their status—and an elderly man in a white robe, with white hair and beard, stood there.

The old man had a calm expression and his gaze swept calmly across the area below; he was none other than the holy mage, Odel.

In front of the platform, three circular areas were set aside, each containing a roughly life-sized, grayish-white dummy made of a material that resembled stone but wasn't, with a smooth surface. Clearly defined lines were drawn around each dummy.

Three long lines extended from behind the circle, winding their way into the crowd. At the front of each line was a high mage in a gray robe, responsible for registration and maintaining order.

"See that?" Nasus pointed at the group. "Each of you gets one chance to use your best offensive spell on that dummy. I heard it's specially made; it can withstand and record the intensity and precision of magical impacts, and it automatically regenerates after you're done."

Harry knew, of course, that he had already been through this once, but he restrained himself and remained silent.

Nasus kept pointing with his finger, clearly very excited. Harry followed his finger.

It was the turn of a mid-level mage in a blue robe. He stood about ten steps in front of the dummy, took a deep breath, quickly chanted an incantation, and pushed forward with both hands—a scorching flaming spear materialized and whistled as it pierced towards the dummy's chest!

"boom!"

Flames exploded on the dummy's chest, scattering red light. The dummy shook violently, leaving obvious charred marks on its chest.

But just a few seconds later, the scorch marks faded and disappeared at a speed visible to the naked eye, and the dummy returned to normal.

A red-robed deacon on the stage nodded slightly.

The next one was a black-robed novice mage. He seemed a little nervous, and his incantation was halting. In the end, he only managed to condense a fist-sized, wobbly wind blast, which barely hit the dummy's shoulder, leaving a shallow dent that quickly healed.

The first high mage, dressed in a gray robe, gestured expressionlessly to the next person.

The procession moved forward slowly. Fireballs, ice spikes, chains of lightning, rock spikes, corrosive rays, arcane missiles... all sorts of magical lights lit up and went out on the dummies, and the sounds of explosions, impacts, and elemental hums filled the air.

Most attacks only cause the dummy to sway or leave brief marks, while a few particularly powerful or well-controlled attacks elicit subtle changes in the butlers' expressions—an approving nod or an exchange of glances.

But the holy mage in the center of the platform remained silent, his aged face devoid of any emotion, as if everything before him was merely an insignificant procedure.

Harry stood in the queue, but his gaze pierced through the swaying figures, fixed on the white-robed figure and the red-robed deacons around him.

He clearly remembered that last time he used a level one "Leaf Dance" technique, which only left a few superficial marks on the dummy, but in the end he was told that he had become the disciple of a holy mage.

At this moment, the icy pain piercing my back seemed to resurface.

He watched as yet another mage unleashed a dazzling bolt of lightning, the dummy trembling in the flash. The clamor enveloped him, so real.

But the strong smell of blood in his memory was equally real.

The group moved slowly forward. Nasus stood on tiptoe, peering around and occasionally commenting on which spells had the best effects.

Harry stood silently beside him, his hands hanging at his sides, his fingers unconsciously curling and relaxing.

He could clearly feel that there was a much stronger magical power surging within him than usual.

The energy, carrying a slight burning sensation, flowed through his body, weighing heavily on his abdomen—the result of the primal magic contained within the flesh and blood being forcibly converted and stored after consuming large amounts of monster meat.

For this test, his body, as always, consumed a large amount of monster meat, just like last time.

The cacophony of voices and magical explosions surrounded him, yet it felt like a thick barrier separating them. All his attention was focused on the persistent, throbbing pain in his left chest, a hallucination that seemed to be constantly radiating from within.

If, as before, I were to use the "Leaf Dance Technique" that I had practiced countless times, enough to leave a few shallow marks but just enough to "get noticed," and then be chosen, I would inevitably leave the academy to go to the capital in order to avoid "special treatment"—and then die by a campfire deep in the forest a little over a month later.

Was that assassin... really one of the robbers you encountered by chance?

The way the bandit leader looked at him at the last moment, and the tragic scene of the caravan's destruction... everything seemed unusual.

Will I be able to escape my fate of being killed this time?

Suddenly, a bold idea popped into his head.

If I weren't a disciple of a holy mage, I could stay in the academy indefinitely...

A thought grew clearer and colder, gripping his heart:

What if I hadn't used any magic at all this time?

Nasus can testify that he was clearly not in good condition this morning, and even "forgot" the test time. He could easily claim that he remembered the date wrong and did not store mana in advance, causing his mana to be out of control or preventing him from casting spells smoothly.

Failing the test might be embarrassing and draw some ridicule—which Harry was used to—but it wouldn't cost him his life, much less get him chosen and pushed down the path to death.

Should one choose to be a "genius disciple" who may be glorious but is destined to die young, or an ordinary magician who stays in the safe zone, mediocre but alive?

Fear and the will to survive were violently pulling at his mind.

He subconsciously raised his head, his gaze passing over the swaying heads and landing on the center of the platform.

The holy magician Odel stood there, his white beard and hair motionless in the breeze, his expression as always, almost indifferent and calm, his gaze seemingly sweeping over the crowd below.

Just as Harry's inner struggle reached its peak and his gaze inadvertently met that of the dignified founder of the magic academy, the man winked his left eye at him with extreme speed and subtlety.

The movement was incredibly fast, so subtle it was almost an illusion, and it vanished instantly from the old man's wrinkled face.

Harry froze, his heart skipped a beat. He stood there, frozen, even forgetting to breathe.

Am I seeing things? How could a holy mage... do something so childish?

He stared intently at the Holy Mage's face. But the Holy Mage's expression remained unchanged, calmly observing the testing area as if the blink of an eye had never happened.

Harry blinked hard, wondering if it was a hallucination caused by exhaustion, tension, and phantom pain in his chest.

The surrounding noise continued. Just when he was almost convinced that it was an illusion, the holy mage's gaze seemed to casually sweep across his direction once again.

Then, very clearly—the holy mage winked at him again, very quickly.

This time, there was even a faint hint of mischief, though it was fleeting, and he quickly returned to his calm and composed demeanor.

Harry felt a chill run from the soles of his feet to the top of his head, as if half of his blood had turned cold.

It's not an illusion!

twice!

The holy magician Odel winked at him twice, in full view of everyone.

No one around noticed that Nasus was still excitedly pointing at a mage in front of him who was unleashing a dazzling chain of lightning.

What does this mean?

Warning? Encouragement?

Or is he implying... he knows something?

"It's our turn!" Nasus's voice jolted him back to reality. The people ahead of him had already finished their tests and left, and the grey-robed archmage in charge of registration was looking in their direction, gesturing for the next person to step forward.

Nasus patted him on the shoulder and ran up to cast his spell. Harry stood alone, feeling the heavy gaze from the platform still fixed on him.

The grey-robed archmage then registered Harry's name and nodded to indicate that he could begin.

He took a deep breath, stepped into the drawn circle, and stood ten steps in front of the dummy.

The soil beneath his feet was firmly packed. He could hear his own heart pounding, louder than the surrounding noise. Those two blinks flashed repeatedly in his mind.

Harry raised his right hand, his index and middle fingers together, pointing at the dummy.

He began to chant the incantation's starting syllables for "Leaf Dance," drawing upon the magical power stored within him and converging it towards his fingertips. He could feel the abundance of that power, enough to complete a standard, level-three spell.

The incantation flowed smoothly from his lips. The air began to ripple, and several withered leaves, forcibly drawn in by magic and suspended in mid-air, appeared before him, their edges shimmering with a bluish-gray light, about to harden and accelerate their trajectory—

In that instant, Harry forcibly cut off the stable output of magic.

He caused the energy gathered at his fingertips to produce a chaotic, subtle burst.

puff.

With a soft thud, the few leaves that had just begun to shimmer instantly lost all their magical support, becoming dull and ordinary, and drifted limply to the ground without even touching the dummy.

The whole process was quiet and even somewhat comical.

A moment of silence fell over the circle. Several apprentices at the back of the line, who had been curiously watching, showed surprise on their faces, which quickly turned into suppressed smiles.

There were some weak spells in this test, but he was the first one who didn't manage to cast a single complete spell.

On the high platform, several red-robed deacons exchanged glances. Some shook their heads slightly, while others wrote something down in their notebooks without expression.

The grey-robed archmage in charge of registration frowned, glanced at Harry, and after confirming that he wouldn't make any further moves, calmly announced, "Next."

Harry lowered his arm, feeling a cold, damp sensation in his palm. He didn't leave immediately, but instead looked up again at the center of the platform.

The holy magician Odel still stood there, his white beard and hair swaying gently in the breeze.

His face remained expressionless, and his gaze seemed to merely sweep across the room without lingering on Harry, as if those two blinks had never happened.

Harry quickly lowered his head to avoid any possible gaze, then turned and strode out of the circle.

This time, Harry did not choose the same path as before. He knew clearly that if he chose to become a disciple of a holy mage as before, even if he escaped those bandits this time, the flaws in his consciousness space would still exist.

Between being a warrior and a coward, he chose reason.

Nasus squeezed through the crowd, his face filled with disbelief. "Harry! What happened to you? You clearly..." He lowered his voice, "You weren't feeling well this morning, but surely you can't even activate a leaf? Didn't you successfully use this spell before?"

"I got the time wrong," Harry heard himself reply in a dry voice, an excuse he had already rehearsed in his mind. "I thought the test was tomorrow... I didn't meditate last night or this morning, and just now... I ran out of magic."

Nasus opened his mouth as if to say something, but seeing Harry's pale, tired, and absent-minded face, he simply patted him on the shoulder and sighed, "Never mind, anyway... well, everyone knows you won't be chosen."

Harry excused himself by saying he wasn't feeling well, leaving Nasus behind, and walked away against the flow of people.

He could feel that there were still eyes following him, but he couldn't tell whether it was the mockery of other magicians or the unfathomable scrutiny from the high platform.

He did indeed avoid becoming a disciple of a holy mage. In theory, he altered the "future" that would have led to his death.

However, the phantom pain in my left chest did not disappear.

The pair of cold, stone-like eyes in the forest seemed to still be watching him from the shadows.

The two sudden, subtle winks of the Holy Mage were more like two stones thrown into a calm pond, the ripples concealing unknown depths.

Is he safe now?

He didn't know who killed him, but at least he could breathe a sigh of relief now that he didn't have to leave the academy. He could deal with everything else later.

What puzzled him was what those two blinks on the platform meant.

Holy Mage...do you know anything?