Section E was an exam at its most unfiltered. Chaotic, unpredictable, and occasionally brilliant in ways that made the instructors quietly weep into their mana tea.
Alex hadn't planned to spend his morning there, but after everything that had happened, the sight of so many people just trying to survive the exam chaos in weird, borderline-questionable categories was oddly therapeutic.
He stood leaning against one of the outer railings of the eastern observation wing, sipping on a not-quite-warm hot chocolate while watching the madness unfold.
--
Across the arena floor, a section shimmered with enchantments and protective sigils—an open field divided into zones, each dedicated to a different brand of eccentricity.
He spotted the familiar chaos of the Mixed-Race Biological Theory & Integration zone first. It looked like a cross between a zoo, a gym, and an anatomy experiment gone wrong. An antilopine chimera—yes, actual antlers on a kangaroo, twitchy nose, and everything—was in a heated debate with a three-tailed kitsune about the aerodynamic advantages of tail count. Not far from them, a scaled girl sat inside a rotating ring of enchanted metal, meditating while occasionally letting sparks dance across her skin.
Just beyond them, the air practically crackled in the External Bindings & Ritual Invocation zone. Candidates stood in marked ritual circles, negotiating with things that didn't technically count as alive anymore. One boy screamed, fainted, and was gently carried out by a spectral hand. Another girl clutched her journal as a translucent spirit-fox tried to barter knowledge in exchange for three secrets and a favorite memory.
In the Performative Magic & Artistic Enchantment space, things got louder. A bard juggled flaming spheres while shouting ancient verse in six languages. A ceramicist had crafted dancing clay familiars that performed coordinated routines. The highlight was a duo of illusionists who turned the entire zone into a moonlit ballroom—complete with stardust pirouettes and an audience of conjured butterflies that clapped at the end.
The next zone hit him with a scent that could only be described as damp wilderness. Beast Kinship & Biological Communion. Druids, shamans, and people who probably hugged mana bears on purpose were here, attempting to commune with magical fauna. One boy was scrubbing glowing snakes with the help of a yawning mana bear. Another girl was whispering to a venomous peacock that clearly didn't like her.
Further out, under enchanted canopy structures, the Historical Survivalism & Relic Recovery test resembled a bad archaeological theme park. Booby-trapped hallways, cursed scrolls, and relics that bit back. One boy had triggered a tiara trap and was now muttering fluently in what sounded like passive-aggressive necromantic legalese. Another candidate had just vanished under a cloud of glitter dust.
The Legacy Talent Assessments were quiet. No open performances. Just a rune-lined corridor and high-level concealment wards. Nobles observed from distant platforms, whispering nervously. Candidates walked in looking ambitious and came out... different. Some looked exhausted. Some smiled too easily. Others didn't come out at all.
But the real chaos was tucked into the back corner, in a zone probably not even listed on any official document. The Unorthodox Talent Expression & Identity Assertion area—also known as the "Delusional Containment Unit."
Here were the ones who swore they were reincarnated phoenix lords or heirs to dimensions. One girl insisted the weather obeyed her mood. Another boy loudly claimed he invented mana last Tuesday.
Alex nearly choked on his drink when one candidate tried summoning divine light and instead turned his boots into cheese. Stilton. With herbs.
Despite the absurdity, he kept watching. Something about it made sense. This was Arcana in its rawest form—stripped of politics and agendas. Just people, trying. Failing. Maybe creating something in the process.
For once, that was enough.
He shifted slightly—only to notice Azherk sitting beside him with the kind of grin that made people regret their life choices.
"Enjoying the circus?" Azherk asked casually.
Alex didn't look at him. "Why are you here? Shouldn't you be crying somewhere about your career choices?"
Azherk laughed. "I go where the chaos is interesting. They told me to observe other departments. I interpreted that as front-row seats to delusions."
"You're the most talked-about instructor today."
"And still employed. Amazing, right?"
Alex sighed. "Relen's ancestors should be slapped. He started this misdirection and now I'm the unofficial face of this madness."
"You're ten. Makes it funnier."
Azherk gestured toward a girl orchestrating singing teapots. "Give her a pass if they don't explode."
Then, without ceremony, Azherk handed him a small folded note.
"Read it. Carefully."
Alex opened it discreetly. The first half detailed rumors of a forbidden ritual connected to Day 3's chaos. A Vice Chairman had used the incident to push forward a breakthrough in some forbidden law comprehension. It was filled with terms and diagrams far beyond anything Alex was equipped to understand.
The second half? A list of suspects. One marked with more certainty than the others.
"This isn't proof," Alex muttered.
"It's more than anyone else has. Keep it close. Someone's playing long, and we might be pieces."
And suddenly, the weight of it all hit Alex—not as fear, but as cold fact.
He wasn't special. He wasn't central.
He was on the board like everyone else.
And the real players are those with actual power in their hand.
He didn't ask how Azherk got the note or why it had no traceable source. He didn't need to. This was how Aiden's faction worked. No trails. No signatures. Just knowledge—carefully passed between people who knew how to look.
Azherk wasn't just loud. He was connected.
They stayed like that for a while, talking like old acquaintances. Their conversation shifted to candidates with bizarre behavior—one boy who wore floating bone jewelry and claimed to be half-undead, a girl who had enchanted her own shadow to sing lullabies. They didn't judge, just observed.
Then came the food talk. Azherk raved about the spiced eel wraps sold behind the technomancy wing. Alex described his failed attempt at frying mana-imbued plantains. They laughed about alchemical candy that exploded if you said the wrong word.
Somehow, that bled into cultivation talk.
"So," Azherk asked, voice casual, "when are you pushing toward Energy Gimlet?"
Alex blinked. "Haven't decided. Too many distractions."
"Excuses," Azherk grinned. "You've maximized your body potential, haven't you?"
"Mostly."
Azherk's look was dry. "Either you do it soon or you'll start plateauing. You don't want that—not in Arcana."
Alex sighed. "Great. More pressure."
"Pressure's just mana in a different form," Azherk shrugged. "Convert it. Or explode. Those are the options."
And somehow, it didn't feel like a threat. Just reality.
Eventually, Azherk stood, stretching his back with a cracking sound that made two nearby students flinch. "Alright, time for me to pretend I'm doing my job again."
"You mean you weren't?"
"Oh no, I definitely was. Just differently."
With a wink, Azherk strolled off, leaving Alex to deal with the aftermath.
The peace didn't last.
Within minutes, his team bombarded his comm. Davor led the charge, arms crossed and face set in that half-scowl of concerned discipline. Orin wasn't far behind, followed by Marell and Pallen.
"You good?" Davor asked.
"Still breathing. For now."
"You had half the team thinking you got dragged into a pocket dimension," Marell added.
Pallen waved a list of magical signatures. "We were tracking three different spike anomalies and all of them led here. Seriously, could you give us a heads-up next time before fraternizing with the public enemy number one of the week?"
Alex gave them a look. Not angry. Just tired. "Enough. We'll go over everything tonight. I just needed a minute."
"And you took it beside Azherk?" Orin muttered.
"Yes," Alex said flatly. "Now let's regroup later. We'll talk after dinner. Bring notes."
"Fine," Davor said, stepping back. "But next time, let someone know. Or at least leave a note."
They dispersed reluctantly, throwing him one last round of side-eyes and mutters.
Alex leaned back against the rail again, watching the madness below.
The only solace right now was the chaos and wild performances of the examinees. For a brief moment, it made him forget all the politics, the rituals, and the weight of expectations.
He took a sip from his hot chocolate, then muttered under his breath:
'Someone get me a dumb-making potion. Or an ambition-reduction tonic. Anything to help me enjoy this mess properly.'