After stufon Cassandra left, I was left alone with the professor. For a while, he silently examined me from head to toe, then gave a short nod, opened the door, and gestured for me to enter first. The moment I stepped across the threshold, he followed behind me and shut the door.
This corridor was noticeably different from the rest of the Academy. While the other wings had walls decorated with paintings and were dominated by white tones, everything here looked entirely different: bare walls and black colors created a much harsher atmosphere.
Only a few stufons walked through the corridor. Along the way, I noticed that most of the classrooms were empty, which could mean only one thing—there were far fewer swordsmen in the Academy than mages.
After walking farther, we stopped in front of a door with a plaque that read: "Assessment Room." The professor opened the door once more and motioned for me to go inside.
Once inside, I carefully examined the room. Various weapons and shields hung on the walls, while a massive table stood in the center. Resting atop it was a stone that looked similar to the one used during the magical talent assessment.
Walking up to the table, the professor turned toward me.
"Do you know how the sword talent assessment is conducted, stufon Trey?" the professor asked.
"No, I do not know that, Professor. Please explain," I replied, stepping closer to the table as I studied the stone.
Visually, it was almost no different from the one used to test magical talents, yet it gave off completely different sensations—far less pleasant ones.
The professor nodded, walked over to the wall, and removed a small knife from its holder. Returning to me, he handed it over and began explaining how the swordsman assessment worked.
"The sword talent assessment is conducted almost the same way as the magical ability test, but with one difference. You must spill your blood onto the stone so it can determine your talent.
If your style is oriented toward support and long-range combat, the stone will turn purple. If you possess talent for close combat based on speed and stealth, its color will change to green. And if you are meant for the role of a fighter who bears the main force of the enemy's assault, the stone will take on a metallic hue," the professor finished explaining.
After saying this, he looked directly into my eyes, and for a brief moment, I felt an inexplicable danger, as though standing before me was not a human, but an ancient dragon.
"Can the blood be taken from either hand, or are there specific requirements? And how deep should the wound be?" I asked while examining the knife.
The metal felt unpleasantly cold to the touch, which only intensified the growing sense of unease.
The professor shifted his gaze from me to the stone, then stepped aside, leaned against the wall, and replied in a bored voice with his eyes closed.
"Blood is blood, stufon Trey. It can be taken from any part of the body. A few drops on the stone are enough, and it will determine your swordsman talent."
After listening to the professor's answer, I extended my hand over the stone and opened my palm. Gripping the knife in my other hand, I brought the blade to my skin and forcefully drew it across my palm.
A sharp pain made me instinctively flinch, but I only clenched my teeth harder, refusing to let myself retreat. Soon, heavy drops of blood began to well up from the wound.
Setting the knife aside, I clenched my injured hand over the stone, feeling the throbbing pain spread through my palm. I wanted to finish the assessment as quickly as possible and heal the wound.
One drop of blood after another fell onto the stone's surface. For several seconds, nothing happened, but then its color began to change slowly: white shifted into red, and soon a thick black shade mixed into it.
I watched the process without blinking. A few moments later, the stone finally settled, becoming red and black, covered in tiny white specks.
Frowning, I tried to recall all the colors the professor had mentioned, but this one definitely had not been among them.
Turning around, I noticed that the professor was still standing by the wall with his eyes closed, as though what was happening did not interest him in the slightest.
"Professor, I don't understand what my swordsman talent is. This color doesn't match any of the ones you listed earlier," I said to him.
Hearing my voice, the professor clicked his tongue in irritation, muttered something under his breath, opened his eyes, and walked over to the table.
"Step aside and let me see. And take this pill—heal your hand before you flood my entire floor with blood," he said displeasedly, pressing a semi-transparent white pill into my palm.
Stepping aside, I tossed it into my mouth and closed my eyes.