Vel found himself among the students with clouded readings as they moved away from the main courtyard. Tomas walked beside him, shoulders still hunched from his earlier humiliation.
Six of us total, Vel realized as they approached the training area. Not exactly a large group.
Hundreds of students scattered across the training field. The elite candidates claimed the center spots while faculty clustered around them.
Vel and the others found themselves directed toward the field's edge—still part of the same assessment area, but relegated to the margins where older practice dummies and basic equipment waited. They remained visible to everyone, their struggles on full display, but clearly marked as secondary priorities.
A woman approached their group with measured steps. Her face bore a faint scar that ran from her left temple to her jaw, and her eyes held the sharp attentiveness of someone who missed nothing. Unlike some of the other examiners, she didn't regard them with pity or dismissal.
"I am Instructor Lyvenna," she said, her voice quiet yet carrying clearly to all of them. "I'll be overseeing your assessments."
She distributed protective charms to each student, small medallions inscribed with runes. "Wear these at all times during combat assessment. They'll activate automatically if your life is endangered."
As the other students murmured among themselves, Lyvenna surveyed the group with calculating eyes.
"Unstable attunement presents specific technical challenges," she continued. "Your elements compete for dominance rather than working in harmony. This creates inconsistent results that many instructors interpret as lack of talent."
Vel raised an eyebrow, surprised by her detailed understanding.
"In this Academy, you'll work twice as hard for half the recognition." Her voice carried no sympathy, just cold fact. "Sometimes you get nothing at all."
Her tone remained matter-of-fact, not unkind but not sugarcoated either. Yet Vel sensed an underlying note of encouragement rather than discouragement—as if she wasn't warning them away, but preparing them for a path she knew was possible.
Vel watched as the elite students took their positions in the central training zones. Their movements were confident, almost arrogant, as they prepared to demonstrate their abilities. A student with pure fire affinity stepped forward, summoning a perfect sphere of flame that danced between his palms before transforming into a fiery serpent that coiled through the air. Applause rippled through the audience.
Another student with water affinity created intricate ice sculptures with mere gestures, the crystalline formations catching light and scattering it in prismatic patterns. The displays grew increasingly elaborate as each student sought to outshine the last.
Meanwhile, Vel and his group were close enough that their performance—or lack thereof—would be visible to onlookers. He noticed students and even some faculty drifting toward their area, expressions ranging from curious to openly derisive.
"Look at the cloudy ones," someone whispered loudly enough to be heard. "This should be entertaining."
The atmosphere shifted from educational to theatrical as a perimeter of spectators formed around their training zone. Vel felt the weight of their stares, the prejudgment in their eyes.
"What a waste of Academy resources." The noble girl shook her head. "They'd serve better in non-combat support—if they're lucky."
Instructor Lyvenna stepped forward, commanding their attention.
YOU ARE READING
GameDev Reincarnated into His Own Creation
FantasyWhen renowned game developer Giri meets his untimely end, he awakens as twelve-year-old Vel in the magical realm of Aeonalus-his own creation. Five hundred years have passed since he crafted the world, and Vel finds himself in the village of Oakhave...
