"Wait… you're the woman from before," Rye blurted out, pointing at her as the memory clicked.
The woman's brows twitched. She shot him an irritated glare. "Huh…?"
Before Rye could say anything more, a sharp voice cut through the room.
"ATTENTION!"
The command echoed as a man stepped out from the hallway to the left of the benches. His footsteps were firm but controlled, each one placed with military precision.
"I am Regurd Trafalgar," he announced, his cold gaze sweeping across the examinees. "I will be your examination instructor, and your evaluator."
He was dressed in a tailored dark tuxedo, similar in style to the receptionist's uniform but designed for men. His black hair was slicked back neatly, not a strand out of place. A pair of rectangular glasses framed his sharp, deep-set eyes. His posture was rigid, upright, his presence carrying an unmistakable air of discipline. He looked to be in his early forties.
He adjusted his glasses with one gloved hand, then tugged the white gloves tighter onto his fingers.
"During the duration of this exam, you will address me as Sir Regurd, and only Sir Regurd." He smoothed the front of his coat, straightening it with quick, practiced movements.
"Well then. Stand up and follow me, examinees." Without waiting for their responses, he turned sharply and strode toward the glowing hallway at the far end, the same one filled with blinding white light.
The examinees hurried after him in a cluster, murmuring anxiously. Chairs scraped, footsteps echoed, and the air buzzed with nerves.
Rye glanced at the woman he recognized from the apartment. She didn't even bother looking at him. She only scoffed and walked ahead.
What a rude girl.. he thought to himself.
They followed Sir Regurd down the long corridor. As they neared the end, a strong, searing brightness enveloped them, just like when Rye first entered the registration building.
Rye squinted, raising a hand instinctively.
Then, as their eyes adjusted, the world opened.
A vast, endless grassland stretched out before them, the wind rippling through the fields like waves. The sky was clear and blue, birds cutting across it with graceful arcs. Far in the distance stood towering trees and mountains whose peaks pierced the horizon. It was massive... too massive at that.
Everyone froze.
"Holy shit…" Rye whispered, unable to tear his eyes away.
Gasps and stunned murmurs spread among the group.
"How… how is this possible?" one man stammered. He dropped to one knee and touched the soft grass as if expecting it to vanish.
A woman shook her head, staring wide-eyed at the sky. "This is impossible. A building this size couldn't fit even a fraction of this space."
"HAHAHAHAH!" Sir Regurd's loud, booming laughter cracked across the field like thunder.
Rye flinched. Why does he have to be so loud…? he complained inwardly.
Regurd spread his arms wide, turning slowly as if presenting a masterpiece. "What you see before you is no illusion. This..." he gestured grandly at the endless plains, "...is a full recreation of the first floor of the tower."
The examinees exchanged bewildered glances.
"If you're wondering how this was made…" Regurd continued, his tone slowing dramatically, "then listen well."
He lifted a finger.
"This vast space was created by the 13th-generation magical prodigy, Durkheim Garlin,conqueror of floors 72 - 79th in the year 1755- 1794 and the 14th-generation magician prodigy, Elizabeth Garlin, who conquered the 80 - 85th in the year 1799 - 1828 with her party. With the years of combined research, the two successfully replicated the exact environment of floor 1 using spacial distortion."
A ripple of astonished whispers spread among the group.
Rye stared at the horizon in awe. To think people like that existed… and they made all of this? This is insane.
He exhaled a breathy laugh. "Ha… magic is wild."
Sir Regurd clapped his hands loudly, instantly reclaiming everyone's attention. "Enough chatter. It's time to explain how you will be tested."
With a snap of his fingers-
THUD! THUD! THUD!
Several wooden boxes materialized before them, landing neatly in rows.
"These are the equipment you will use. Even if you already possess weapons or gear of your own, you will use these for a standardized evaluation."
Lifting the lids with another flick of his wrist, he revealed racks of weapons, staves, wands, daggers, wooden shields, and basic armor.
"Choose the equipment that suits you best," he instructed.
Immediately, examinees rushed toward the boxes, eager hands grabbing weapons, testing weights, and comparing choices.
Rye walked up more cautiously. The variety was impressive, swords polished to a metallic sheen, bows strung tightly, spears sturdy and straight.
"These all look sick…" he whispered.
But his eyes stopped on the staffs. Something about them pulled him in.
Lowering his voice, he muttered, "System."
Ding!
The familiar panel appeared:
[Name: Rye]
[Class: Necromancer]
[Skills: Summon Undead Lv.1, Aura Detection Lv.1, Commander Lv.1]
[Traits: Coward]
[Magic Power: 10]
[Strength: 1]
He stared at the numbers again. Ten magic power… I really am built for magic.
He stepped toward the staff box..
...and someone slammed into his side.
"Woah-!" He staggered, nearly hitting the ground before a hand grabbed his arm.
"Oof. You good, boss?" said a man with short brown hair and a friendly grin who had caught him.
"Y-yeah… I'm fine," Rye muttered, steadying himself.
"Move out of the way!" barked the man who bumped him.
Sharp-eyed, long black hair tied loosely behind his shoulders, a predatory smirk.., he radiated nothing but trouble.
"I'll take the first staff, then!" the man declared smugly, snatching up the topmost staff from the box.
Rye didn't respond. Getting into a fight with someone like that was a terrible idea.
Instead, he approached again, carefully this time, and picked up another staff.
Ding!
A new notification appeared, glowing brightly.
[New Skill Acquired!]
[Fireball Lv1]
Rye's eyes widened. He nearly dropped the staff.
What…? I can get skills just by picking up weapons?
The realization sent a shiver down his back. This exam was already proving to be far more than he expected.