Hig stood frozen in the clearing, the examiners' expectant gazes were a physical weight upon his shoulders. The "pass" should have brought relief, but the suggestion of a higher-tier exam felt like his death signed. Paley's sharp invisible jab to his ribs was the only thing that moved him, forcing a ragged, "Yes, I'd like to take the opportunity," past his lips.

  One examiner, a grizzled woman with a scar across her chin, gave a curt nod. "Follow us. The Tier I proving grounds are deeper in. Remember, young lord, discretion is as important as power. Do not charge in blindly."

  As they trekked further into the arid mana zone, the air grew thicker, buzzing with a predatory hum. The examiners walked ahead, talking in low tones. Hig's eyes darted frantically through the twisted, grey-barked trees and rust-colored ferns.

  "Act lost," Paley's whisper came from just beside his ear, so faint it could have been the wind. "Make noise. Be clumsy. Draw something to us. Something we can fight."

  Hig's initial paralysis gave way to a frantic, performative anxiety. He deliberately stumbled over a root, letting out a loud, "Oof!". He bumped into a tree, rustling the brittle leaves. He mumbled to himself, "Where is it... where would a good monster be..." just loud enough for the examiners to hear. They glanced back, their expressions a mix of pity and mild exasperation - a noble boy out of his depth but trying desperately to prove himself.

  They reached a rocky outcrop where the ground fell away into a shallow, dusty basin. In its center a creature slept in the sparse shade of a thorny bush. It was a Scorchelt Jackal, a Tier I monster known for its speed and a breath that could scorch unprotected flesh. Its hide was the color of cooled ashes, and even in sleep, its ears twitched.

  "Candidate," the scarred examiner said, her voice dropping to a professional murmur. "Your target. A Scorchelt. Observe first. Plan your approach. We will not intervene unless your life is in imminent danger."

  Hig's throat went dry. This was no rabbit. This thing looked lean, mean, and awake - its yellow eyes now open and fixed directly on him. It uncoiled itself, a low growl rumbling inside its chest.

  "Now," Paley's voice was calm in Hig's storm of anxiety. "Look determined. Raise your hands. Gather your mana - for real, but keep it weak. I'll do the rest."

  Hig lifted his trembling hands, summoning the pitiful swirl of air magic he could muster. The jackal began to pace, circling, seeing easy prey.

  Then, the illusion began.

  First, the fake mana build-up. The air around Hig shimmered with a visible, swelling torrent of power. The light bent, concentrating around his outstretched hands. The examiners' eyes widened. The grizzled woman leaned forward. "Leia... That's a significant charge for a beginner."

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Second, the fake projectile. Hig gave a shout - half fear, half forced bravado - and thrust his hands forward. With a brilliant flash of fabricated light and a deafening CRACK that Paley projected directly into the examiners' senses using a glowing stone that Hig bought, it appeared as if a massive, condensed cannon of air erupted from Hig's palms. The visual distortion of roaring wind kicked up dust and leaves in a wide cone.

  The jackal, sensing the fake overwhelming threat, abandoned caution and lunged straight at Hig, jaws dripping with fire.

  Third, the fake impact. At the exact moment of the lunge, Paley executed the delicate yet deadly ballet. He flashed a searing burst of pure white light in the examiners' eyes - a simple, blinding illusion. In that split-second of their impaired vision, he moved.

  His own small teenage body, cloaked by his magic, shot from the bushes. He landed on the jackal's back as it leaped, his hands fining its neck. A precise, brutal twist, where he switched Magic Types to Strength resulted in a silent, efficient snap.

  He quickly switched back to Illusion Magic and overlaid the final illusion: the massive "Air Blast" striking the jackal mid-air. The monster's body appeared to be violently thrown backward, tumbling and over end in a cloud of dust before sliding to a lifeless halt ten feet away, its neck at an unnatural angle seemingly caused by the impact.

  The illusions dissolved.

  In the sudden quiet, Hig stood, hands still outstretched, panting with genuine shock. He then crumpled to his knees, his whole body shaking.

  The examiners blinked, their vision clearing. They stared at the dead Tier I monster, then at the trembling noble boy, assuming it was from a slight over-exertion of magic.

  "Incredible..." The male examiner breathed, rushing forward. he inspected the jackal, noting the broken neck. "A direct, concussive hit. The force to kill a Scorchelt with pure air pressure..." He looked at Hig with newfound awe, "Under pressure, you channeled power far beyond your initial assessment! As expected of Libon Reish's descendant!"

  The scarred woman helped Hig to his feet. "That was a reckless, direct confrontation," she said, but a smile touched her lips. "But the results are undeniable truly. Explosive potential. The Reishes will be please I am sure."

  Hig opened his mouth, his eyes wide with a frantic need to explain, to confess. "I-it wasn't-"

  An invisible, firm hand squeezed his shoulder hard. Paley's final whisper was ice-cold and absolute in his ear. "Say. Nothing."

  Hig's jaw clicked shut. He looked at the approving faces of the examiners, then down at the monster he had not killed. He swallowed the truth and the reality of his situation, a bitter, heavy lump forming in his throat as he felt like the biggest fraud in Gouon.

  "Candidate Hig is clearly exhausted from mana expenditure," the woman said, mistaking his internal crisis for fatigue. "The examination is concluded. With distinction."

  As they led a shell-shocked Hig out of the proving grounds, the examiners chattered excitedly about the 'diamond in the rough' they had just witnessed. They spoke of advanced training, of reporting this promising talent to the Guild headquarters.

  Hidden in the ferns, Paley watched them go. The plan had worked flawlessly. The license was as good as theirs. A path to money, to stability, to power, had just been forged from air and illusions.

  Yet, as he looked at Hig's retreating, slumped back - a boy now permanently entangled in a deception - he felt a pang of guilt. He could tell Hig was a conflicted boy who wanted glory but wanted to grab it with his own hands.

  "Sorry, Hig. Just as you care for your family name, I care for my family." Paley whispered though of course, Hig could not hear his apology.