Echoes of the Lost Elf

As they continued walking toward the grand academy gates, Aldren glanced at Historias.

"So, have you decided on your electives?"

Historias, still half-distracted by the sheer changes in Castellas, barely gave it a thought before replying. "Spirit Magic and Swordsmanship."

Aldren raised an eyebrow. "Spirit Magic? Didn't take you for the type to study contracted spirits."

Historias smirked. "It's been a while since I dabbled in it. I figured it'd be fun to see how much things have changed."

Aldren scoffed. "You mean you want to see if anyone's discovered something you don't already know?"

Historias chuckled but didn't deny it.

Aldren crossed his arms. "And swordsmanship? I figured you'd at least pick Magic Spellcasting."

Historias sighed dramatically. "That would be too much work."

Aldren gave him a flat look. "You're literally the greatest magician to ever exist, and you think learning new spells is too much work?"

Historias shrugged. "No, casting spells in front of others is too much work. Every time I use magic, I'd have to cast illusion spells on myself to make it look like I'm not breaking every known rule of spellcasting." He lazily waved his hand. "Too much effort."

Aldren sighed. "So instead, you're going to fight with a sword."

Historias grinned. "Swordsmanship is fun. Besides, it's not like I forgot how to use magic."

Aldren pinched the bridge of his nose. "Right. Of course."

As they neared the entrance, Historias took in the sight of the massive, enchanted gate, the very same one he had once walked through as the academy's founder—except now, he was just another student

....

They continued walking toward the academy's entrance, where a large crowd of prospective students had gathered. Aldren turned to him. "You'll need to fill out your basic details for the entrance exam. After that, I can't accompany you inside. You're on your own."

Historias nodded, taking the parchment handed to him. The form asked for the usual details:

Name: Historias Vaelcrest

Age: 15

Guardian's Name: Aldren Vaelthorn

After filling it out, he turned it in and followed the rest of the applicants toward the first part of the entrance exam—the written test.

........

Historias sat down at a desk in the grand examination hall, staring at the parchment in front of him. The test had three sections: Magic Theory, General Knowledge, and History & Current Affairs.

The first few questions were simple enough:

Q1: Describe the difference between magic circles and imagination-based casting.

→ Magic circles serve as a structured way to channel mana, forming stable spells with predetermined effects. The higher one's mastery, the less reliance they have on circles, eventually allowing for imagination-based casting.

Q2: What are the known magic affinities, and how does affinity affect casting difficulty?

→ The primary magic affinities are Light, Darkness, Water, Fire, Wind, Earth, and Space. A person's affinity determines their natural ability to cast a certain type of magic. While it is possible to cast spells outside of one's affinity, it requires much greater effort and control.

The exam continued, filled with more questions on magic theory and application. Historias answered them with ease.

Then, he reached Question 19 in the History and Current Affairs section.

Q19: What was the outcome of the War of the Three Factions 400 years ago?

Historias frowned. War of the Three Factions? He sighed and wrote a simple answer: "There was a winner."

Q20: Name at least three influential figures who shaped modern magic policies in the last century.

Who even makes these questions?

Historias scratched his head, then scribbled down: "Still alive? Good job. Dead? Unlucky."

By the end of the test, Historias realized one thing—he was going to flunk the history section hard.

......

The Practical Exam – Historias's Turn

The examination room was unlike the grand lecture halls or training fields outside. It was a circular chamber, lined with faintly glowing runes etched into the stone walls, pulsing at a slow, steady rhythm. The air was thick with lingering mana residue, remnants of the countless students who had taken the test before. At the center of the room stood a black stone pedestal, upon which rested a Mana Frequency Orb—a crystalline sphere that shimmered faintly, waiting to be activated.

To the side of the room, shelves lined with mana calibration devices, sensing crystals, and enchanted tools were neatly arranged. Several complex instruments, used to measure mana fluctuations, flickered with soft, arcane light. Unlike the large, open exam halls, this space was designed for precision—a quiet, isolated chamber where a single mistake would be laid bare.

At the far end of the room, sitting behind a curved wooden desk, was the examiner.

Examiner's POV

The examiner, a middle-aged elf with graying black hair tied back into a low ponytail, had seen hundreds of students today. Most were nervous wrecks, hands shaking as they touched the orb, struggling to control their mana properly. Some showed promise, but most barely scraped by.

He sighed, rubbing his temples. One more student. Then I can leave.

A knock at the door.

"Enter."

The door swung open, revealing a tall young man who stepped in with an effortless grace. The examiner's sharp, weary eyes studied him.

The boy wasn't nervous. Not even slightly.

He had long, white hair, loose and flowing, its silken strands catching the faint light of the room's enchantments. His golden eyes gleamed like liquid sunlight, their sharp gaze sweeping across the room with a quiet, detached curiosity. His features were strikingly refined, almost inhumanly so—perfectly sculpted, yet completely unreadable.

His attire was simple but elegant—a black high-collared coat, subtly embroidered with silver thread, resting over a fitted tunic. It wasn't flashy, but something about the way he carried himself made him impossible to ignore. There was an air of timelessness about him, as if he belonged to an older era, untouched by the frantic energy of the younger generation.

The examiner forced himself to remain professional. "Name?"

"Historias Vaelcrest."

The name didn't ring any bells. Strange—someone with that much presence should have some kind of reputation.

The examiner cleared his throat and gestured to the Mana Frequency Orb at the center of the room.

"Place your hand on the orb," he instructed. "When I call out a number, you will adjust your mana output to match the required frequency. Precision is key—the closer you get, the better your score."

Historias stepped forward, placing a hand on the orb. The crystal pulsed softly as it synced with his mana.

The examiner glanced at his clipboard. "Set the frequency to 250."

Historias barely seemed to focus. The orb immediately stabilized at exactly 250.

The examiner's eyes twitched.

"…Alright, next—180."

The orb flickered for a fraction of a second, then settled on precisely 180.

"327."

Again, instant.

The examiner's fingers tightened around his quill. No fluctuations, no lag—just absolute precision. This level of control wasn't normal.

By the fifth command, he stopped calling out numbers. It was pointless.

He tried to mask his unease. "Now, we will test your mana sensing ability."

He walked over to a shelf and pulled out a Mana Emission Device—a small, floating crystal housed inside a metal frame. It was designed to emit waves of mana at specific frequencies. The examinee's job was to sense and identify the exact frequency.

The examiner activated it, setting it to a random frequency. "What is the mana wave's frequency?"

Historias barely glanced at it. "412."

The examiner blinked. "Correct."

He adjusted the setting. "Now?"

"285."

His grip on the clipboard tightened.

He changed it again, setting it to a shifting pattern, something most examinees couldn't even perceive. "What about now?"

Historias gave a small, lazy yawn before replying. "309 to 320, shifting every half-second."

The examiner froze.

For a long moment, the room was silent.

He swallowed, forcing himself to write something down. But his hands felt stiff, the quill dragging slightly across the parchment.

"…I see," he finally managed. He took a slow breath, forcing his voice to remain neutral. "That concludes the practical exam. You… may leave."

Historias offered a polite, lazy smile before strolling toward the door, as if he had just finished a simple chore.

The door closed behind him with a quiet click.

The examiner remained seated, staring at his notes.

There was only one word written on the paper.

Perfect.

........