The testing arena fell into a stunned silence.
Will Harlan stood in the center of the circular stone platform, breathing heavily, the Mother's Worn Pot still smoking in his hands. The Inherited Kitchen Knife was tucked into his apron belt, and the Simple Apron was splattered with oil and spices. At his feet lay the charred remains of the Flamefang Beast, now reduced to a pile of faintly glowing embers that smelled suspiciously like overcooked chili.
One of the examiners blinked several times, then cleared his throat.
"Candidate… Will Harlan," he announced, voice cracking slightly. "You have passed the practical combat test."
A wave of murmurs swept through the crowd of examinees and spectators.
"Passed? With a pot?"
"He just fed the beast to death!"
"Is this some kind of joke?"
Will didn't hear most of it. His eyes were fixed on the spectator area where Einsfel stood. She was smiling — a bright, proud, slightly teary smile that made his chest feel warm despite the chaos around him.
She raised her hand and gave him a small wave. The gesture was simple, but to Will it meant everything.
He had done it.
He had actually passed.
As the next group of candidates was called forward, Will walked out of the arena on shaky legs. The moment he stepped past the boundary line, Einsfel broke away from the crowd and ran straight to him.
Without a word, she threw her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. Her silver-gray hair smelled faintly of the academy's magical incense, but underneath it was still the familiar scent of home.
"You did it," she whispered, voice trembling with emotion. "You really did it, Will."
Will hugged her back tightly, the Mother's Worn Pot still clutched awkwardly in one hand.
"I told you I'd find a way," he murmured into her hair. "Even if it's a ridiculous way."
Einsfel pulled back just enough to look at him. Her cheeks were flushed, and her blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears and something warmer.
"You looked so cool out there," she said softly. "Even if everyone else thought you were crazy."
Will let out a weak laugh. "I felt crazy. I just… threw soup at it."
"And it worked," she replied, her voice dropping to a whisper only he could hear. "My magic calmed down the moment I smelled it. Like always."
The two of them stood there for a moment, ignoring the curious and mocking glances from passing students. Then Einsfel took his free hand and gently pulled him away from the main testing grounds.
"Come with me," she said. "There's a quiet spot behind the arena. You need to rest."
They found a small secluded courtyard shaded by flowering mana trees. The moment they were out of sight, Einsfel turned to face him again.
Her expression had changed — the gentle pride was still there, but now mixed with something deeper, more urgent.
"Will," she said, stepping closer until there was almost no space between them. "When you were fighting… I was so scared for you. But when I saw you cooking, when I smelled that familiar spice… my magic, which had been restless all morning, suddenly felt calm. Safe."
She reached up and touched his cheek with trembling fingers.
"Thank you."
Before Will could respond, Einsfel leaned in and kissed him.
This time it wasn't the soft, hesitant kiss from last night in the kitchen. This kiss was deeper, filled with relief, pride, and weeks of suppressed worry. Her lips were warm, tasting faintly of the spicy broth she had eaten earlier. Will's free hand moved to her waist instinctively, pulling her closer.
For a long moment, the world disappeared. There was only the sound of their breathing, the faint crackle of residual magic in the air, and the distant cheers from the testing arena.
When they finally parted, both were breathing harder. Einsfel's cheeks were beautifully flushed, and a faint blue glow of stabilized magic shimmered around her.
She rested her forehead against his.
"You're really going to follow me here, aren't you?" she whispered.
"I am," Will answered without hesitation. "Even if I have to cook my way through every exam they throw at me."
Einsfel smiled, a small, mischievous curve of her lips.
"Then I look forward to your celebration meal tonight," she said, her voice turning slightly teasing. "In my dorm room. Just the two of us. No one else."
Will's heart skipped a beat.
Before he could reply, a loud voice echoed across the academy grounds.
"All passing candidates, report to the registration hall immediately!"
Einsfel sighed softly but didn't let go of his hand right away.
"We should go," she said. "But later… we'll celebrate properly."
She gave his hand one last squeeze, then stepped back, smoothing down her academy uniform with graceful composure. Only the faint pink on her cheeks betrayed what had just happened.
As they walked toward the registration hall side by side, Will glanced down at the Mother's Worn Pot in his hands.
The old iron surface now carried a very faint, almost invisible silver-gray light along its rim — the first clear sign of Einsfel's magic resonating with his cooking.
He smiled to himself.
Maybe this ridiculous path wasn't so ridiculous after all.