GameDev Reincarnated into His Own Creation

Vol 2 - Chapter 18.2: Processing

"Your individual duels require only a clean point to pass," she announced, "not total defeat like the elite matches. Demonstrate competence, not dominance."

Their first assessment pairings were announced. Tomas was matched against a stocky youth who immediately dropped into a fighter's stance. The guy looked older, carried himself like he'd done this before—probably a second attempt at the entrance exam. Tomas, by contrast, stood with his weight on his back foot, hands positioned for casting rather than striking—clearly preferring to keep combat at range.

His opponent charged forward, closing the distance quickly. Tomas backpedaled, fingers tracing the beginning forms of a spell circle while muttering an incantation. Vel recognized the pattern—a basic fireball, one of the simplest offensive spells.

For a moment, the spell formed properly, a small orb of flame materializing above Tomas's palm. His face lit with concentration and hope—then faltered as the fireball's edges began to waver, its core pulsing irregularly. The spell deformed as it left his hand, deteriorating mid-flight into a shower of harmless sparks that scattered at his opponent's feet like dying fireworks.

Laughter erupted from the gathering crowd. Several combat instructors shook their heads, making quick notes on their paper with expressions of dismissal.

Tomas's shoulders slumped, his face flushing with embarrassment. His opponent seized the opportunity, lunging forward and landing a clean hit with a simple ice spell. The spell effect flashed by the protective charm.

"Just stick to support roles where you belong!" someone shouted from the crowd.

More jeers followed: "They should just make them healers' assistants and be done with it!"

"How do you expect to fight when you can't even control basic magic?"

Tomas walked back to the standby group, his gaze fixed on the ground. His lips were pressed into a thin line, shoulders hunched forward as if trying to make himself smaller against the weight of humiliation.

Instructor Lyvenna gave him an understanding look, her eyes reflecting sympathy without pity. She made a few notes on her paper, her pen moving with quick precision.

"Next pairing: Velarian Novalance and Rohen Delmar," she called out. "Take your positions."

At the same time, she announced another match: "Mira Telsin and Enya Lorrath, adjacent circle."

Vel contemplated his approach as he stepped forward. Should he use magic and risk drawing attention with his unusual affinity? Or rely on swordplay, which might be safer but less impressive?

The crowd's jeering still hung in the air. While part of him burned to prove these pure-affinity students wrong, a more pragmatic voice cautioned restraint. Drawing too much attention could complicate his true goals. Better to simply pass the test and move forward—the journey ahead mattered more than petty victories now.

After a moment's consideration, Vel walked to the equipment rack and selected a practice sword. He hefted it, feeling its balance before returning to his position and assuming a standard combat stance.

A murmur rippled through the onlookers. Even Instructor Lyvenna raised an eyebrow, making a note on her clipboard.

Vel glanced to his side where the two girls had already begun circling each other, each with fingers positioned for spellcasting. Looking back at his opponent, a boy with curly chestnut hair named Rohen, Vel noticed he too was preparing to cast rather than fight physically.

A thought struck Vel—was it coincidence that all the unstable affinity students were attempting to cast spells rather than engage in physical combat? Even the instructor seemed surprised by Vel's choice of weapon, watching him with renewed interest.