Just what do you think you’re doing?” the examiner continued, practically shaking with indignation.

  “My apologies,” Kel said smoothly. “It seems there’s been a slight misunderstanding.” He rose to his feet and brushed the dust from his clothes with unhurried precision.

  “Agreed,” the man added quickly. “A minor misunderstanding. No hard feelings.”

  How remarkably accommodating.

  Was he afraid Kel would mention the cursed artifact? Unlikely. If he truly feared exposure, he wouldn’t have activated it in front of dozens of witnesses.

  The examiner actually stamped his foot in frustration.

  “What do your personal grievances have to do with anything? You’ve violated the Guild Charter! The sheer audacity – ”

  The man pushed himself upright, wincing as he tried to wipe the blood from his face.

  “And yet,” he said through a tight smile, “I’m sure the Guild can overlook something this trivial, can’t it?”

  Now that the examiner had gotten a proper look at him, his outrage faltered.

  Recognition flickered across his face.

  After a brief, strained pause, he cleared his throat and muttered that perhaps formal suspension from the examination wouldn’t be necessary. Then he fixed the man with an icy stare and curtly suggested escorting him to one of the Guild’s healers.

  The man agreed at once.

  The crowd slowly began to disperse, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. A few candidates still cast lingering looks in Kel’s direction – some openly impressed, others wary. He ignored them and took a seat on a bench at the edge of the courtyard.

  What had Kelmire ever done to that man?

  From everything Kel had pieced together, the previous owner of this body had been almost painfully upright – the sort of person who followed rules, kept promises, and avoided unnecessary conflict. Which made the bigger question impossible to ignore.

  Who was that man, if even the Guild seemed inclined to accommodate him?

  Kel pressed a hand lightly against his chest. He’d unraveled the curse almost the instant it touched him, but residual traces still lingered in his system. A faint, unpleasant tingling beneath his ribs served as a quiet reminder of his lapse in judgment.

  What a stupid oversight.

  He had assumed the confrontation wouldn’t escalate that far. Assumed he had time to react.

  And what if the curse had been designed to kill instantly?

  His fingers curled slightly against his coat before he forced them to relax.

  No more assumptions.

  From now on, he would be ready – for hidden triggers, for silent enchantments, for smiling enemies in crowded courtyards.

  Anything.

  Always.

  He lifted his head just in time to notice a few candidates gathered off to the side, speaking in low voices while gesturing subtly in his direction. The moment they realized he was looking at them, they turned away a little too quickly, suddenly fascinated by anything else in the courtyard.

  Kel sighed inwardly.

  He had only wanted to take the exam quietly. Advance in rank. Avoid attention. Avoid new enemies.

  And yet – here he was again, standing at the center of the stage without ever meaning to step onto it.

  At last, they were called inside the Guild.

  The hall prepared for the written examination was unexpectedly spacious. Tall windows let in broad shafts of daylight, turning drifting dust motes into slow-falling sparks suspended in the air. Desks were arranged in neat rows – one table per candidate, spaced just far enough apart to prevent wandering eyes.

  Kel chose a seat near one of the windows, preferring the steady natural light over the colder glow of lamps. On the desk lay a small stack of blank sheets and a pencil, sharpened to a precise point, waiting.

  The candidates slowly filled the hall, each trying to claim a spot as far away as possible from the tables where the Guild examiners were seated. Apparently, sitting at the end of a row somehow made them feel safer than being at the front.

  Kel scanned the magical background. Everything was exactly as expected. The entire hall was woven with a complex network of protective spells. How long would it take him to quietly bypass them? He tapped his fingers against the crisp, white sheets in front of him and reminded himself not to do anything foolish today – there was already more than enough trouble for one morning.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  His opponent for the day entered the hall among the last. Face unscathed and intact, nose in place. Clothes spotless, as though he had just stepped out of a tailor’s shop, not as if he’d been sprawled on the ground half an hour ago.

  The examiners took their positions, walking between the desks with the quiet authority of someone who had seen centuries of hopeful adventurers and reckless fools alike. One stepped forward, raising a hand to call the room to attention.

  “You have exactly two hours,” the man announced, his voice calm but firm. “No spells, no artifacts, no crib notes. Any attempt at cheating will result in immediate expulsion from the exam. You will be penalized 300 experience points, and you will be barred from rank advancement for the next three years. I trust that sensible individuals here understand that it’s better to fail honestly and retake the test in a year than to risk permanent consequences. This is a test not of courage, but of knowledge, diligence, and respect for the Guild’s processes. Do not waste this opportunity. In any case, I wish you success. Begin.”

  The sheets of paper in front of Kel began to shimmer faintly, and within moments, letters appeared, forming full questions across every page. He scanned them quickly:

  Under what conditions is a one-sided termination of a contract with an employer allowed?

  List at least three relevant articles from the Guild charter.

  Describe the procedure for filing a complaint against another Guild member.

  What is the official protocol upon discovering the use of prohibited artifacts?

  Kel couldn’t help but let a small, ironic smile tug at his lips.

  And now for the really absurd part:

  Calculate the mandatory Guild fee for a contract valued at 320 gold pieces, factoring in a risk coefficient of 1.3.

  Sighs echoed softly across the hall. From every direction, candidates leaned over their desks, muttering numbers and clauses to themselves, some looking like they’d rather face a dragon than this exam. Kel understood the feeling perfectly – and, in a strange way, felt a spark of camaraderie with them.

  He picked up his pencil.

  Time to begin the real test.

  Exactly two hours later, the sheets had vanished from the desks, leaving Kel feeling as drained as he had after his battle with the Lamia. Every muscle ached, and his mind was buzzing from the relentless mental exercise.

  One of the examiners stood again, clearing his throat.

  “The exam results will be ready in approximately four hours,” he announced. “All candidates are requested to leave the hall. You will receive a signal when it is time to return. I strongly advise finding a waiting area outside the Guild courtyard to avoid causing inconvenience to other visitors.”

  Kel had been living in a capital city inn for several days now. Vanessa and the baron both knew he was planning to take the rank advancement exam – it would have been strange for him to leave the manor on the exact day of the test. He could have returned to the inn to rest for a bit, but over the past few days, he had grown fond of wandering the city streets.

  Despite the promise he had made to himself, Kel had already run into Erhard twice. Talking to the artist came far too easily; the man had a way of lifting the mood like no one else. Unfortunately, Erhard was now tied up in a meeting with a magistrate.

  Four hours had passed in the blink of an eye, and finally, the Guild gave the signal that candidates could return.

  The inner courtyard was quieter now than it had been that morning. The laughter had vanished, leaving only the hum of anticipation.

  When the names appeared on the board, the crowd surged forward like a tight wave. Kel didn’t rush. He waited, observing as people began to disperse – some with relief, others wearing dark, sullen expressions – before stepping closer.

  His name was on the list of those cleared for the practical portion. Sixty points. Not exactly a stellar score, but after recalling the questions he’d faced, Kel allowed himself a small nod of pride. The points didn’t matter – what mattered was passing. Everything else was secondary.

  “The practical exam will be conducted in pairs,” one of the examiners announced, cutting through the murmur that had settled over the courtyard. “Pairs will be assigned by the commission through a drawing. Each of you will receive a number. Two matching numbers will be paired together for the trial.”

  Kel received his placard and cast a quick glance at the number: “17.”

  The plate flickered with a faint golden glow in his hand. From it, a thread of light stretched outward. Following its path with his eyes, Kel found the person it led to.

  The man spoke first, his voice cutting through the quiet.

  “Looks like fate decided we should work together.”

  Kel met his gaze evenly.

  No. This wasn’t fate.

  He didn’t believe in coincidences like that. Too convenient. And the fact that both of them had been allowed to continue despite their fight? Some people simply existed above the rules, didn’t they?

  Who exactly was this man? And why did he hate Kelmir as if he’d eaten the guy’s kitten?

  “Fine,” Kel said evenly. “I hope this time you’ll stick to fists, not toys.”

  A twitch ran across the man’s jaw.

  The examiner let out a heavy sigh.

  “The practical portion begins in one hour. You’ll be sent to the testing grounds. The task will be announced on-site.”

  Most of the candidates spent the time predictably: some nervously repeating theory, some checking their gear for the third time, and others stretching and flexing as if to radiate confidence.

  Kel moved to a far corner of the guild courtyard, where the shadow cast by the walls kept him out of sight.

  He sat on the low stone ledge and closed his eyes, letting the noise of the courtyard fade. He needed to analyze the situation.

  First: the conditions on the training grounds would almost certainly be controlled. The Guild wouldn’t risk the candidates unnecessarily. That meant the threats would be limited – illusions, pressure, and environmental instability were likely, but nothing insurmountable. No real magic users were among the candidates, after all. Only artifacts would be in play.

  Second: his partner.

  This problem was more serious. Kel was certain that the man had no intention of abandoning his plan to cause trouble.

  Across the courtyard, the man was showing off, activating one defensive plate after another. Not only was he checking that his artifacts worked, but he seemed determined to make a point to anyone watching – that he relied on power rather than caution.

  “I don’t even know his name,” Kel thought, frowning.

  The Guild called it a training ground – a specially crafted magical space, far simpler, more convenient, and infinitely safer than sending candidates out to face real monsters. In the field, adventurers might die by the dozen, but not during an exam. All candidates entered through the same door, yet each pair was transported into a separate space created just for them.

  At first glance, the task seemed simple.

  “All adventurers are friends. Almost family,” the examiner explained. “So, you must work together. Reach the center of the anomaly and retrieve the artifacts hidden there. Enter together. Leave together.”

  The man stepped forward first. Kel followed silently, his mind already racing.

  The gates slammed shut behind them, sealing them inside.

  As soon as the gates clicked shut behind them, the space shifted almost imperceptibly, yet enough for their skin to feel it: the air thickened, their footsteps sounded muffled, and the light from the crystals lining the walls took on a murky hue, as if filtered through a dense layer of water.

  Before them stretched a corridor partially blocked by rubble, where warped beams barely held up the ceiling.

  Not a bad start.