The Test of Geniuses (And One Ancient Monster)

Carrion sat in the administration office, unmoving, his many hidden eyes subtly shifting as he observed his surroundings.

It had been hours since he signed up for the entrance exam. Hours of watching floating paperwork shuffle themselves, staff members sighing at broken enchantments, and a suspiciously immortal potted plant that hadn’t moved an inch.

He remained silent. Watching. Waiting.

At one point, the receptionist glanced up at him and shivered.

“Can you… like, stop staring at people?” she muttered.

“I am learning,” Carrion replied.

She groaned and went back to her tablet.

More time passed.

Eventually, a young staff member entered the office. He cleared his throat and scanned the room.

“Entrance exam participants, follow me.”

Carrion stood immediately.

Along with him, a handful of students also rose—a collection of smug faces, glinting glasses, and crossed arms.

Self-proclaimed geniuses.

Carrion could already tell.

These were the types of students who likely memorized entire textbooks just to flex their intelligence.

He followed them silently, listening as they muttered amongst themselves.

“Heh, easy stuff. I’ve been preparing for this since I was eight.”

“Tch. There’s no way I’ll lose to some random nobodies.”

“I heard some dumb brute applied. Hope he gets crushed.”

Carrion tilted his head slightly.

What an odd species. Do they gain sustenance from arrogance?

Regardless, he said nothing and walked alongside them as they entered a large, well-lit examination hall.

Carrion took a seat and stared at the parchment in front of him.

The examiner, a sharp-looking elf, adjusted his glasses and clapped his hands.

“The test will begin now. You have one hour. Good luck.”

A flick of magic sealed the doors. The students flipped their papers.

Instantly, muttered curses filled the air.

“Wha—What the hell is this question?!”

“Wait, wait, I studied for this! Why is this phrased so weird?!”

“Damn it, I should’ve gone over the enchantment formulas again!”

Across the room, students gripped their pens with clenched teeth and panicked expressions.

Carrion blinked.

Then, he flipped his paper over.

His many hidden eyes skimmed through the questions.

Then, he froze.

Slowly, he turned his gaze to the examiner.

“…Is this meant to be difficult?” he asked, genuine confusion in his voice.

The examiner raised an eyebrow. “That is the purpose of a test, yes.”

Carrion stared at the questions again.

They were laughably easy.

Mathematical equations that even primitive humans from the primordial era could solve.
Basic mana flow diagrams that were so simplified it was insulting.
History questions about conflicts that didn’t even last a single century.

He sighed.

If he were to design a test, it would have at least included questions about cross-dimensional rift stabilization or the philosophical consequences of necromantic immortality.

He picked up his pen and began writing.

Ten minutes later, he was done.

He placed the paper down and folded his arms, patiently waiting.

The other students, meanwhile, were sweating, biting their nails, and frantically erasing mistakes.

One girl, glancing at Carrion’s completed exam, nearly choked. “H-He’s already done?!”

The examiner walked over and flipped through the pages. His eyes widened slightly.

A perfect score. Flawless answers. No hesitation.

He gave Carrion a long, unreadable look before clearing his throat.

“…Proceed to the next test.”

The students were led to an open field behind the academy. A large metal dummy stood in the center—a golem designed for testing offensive magic.

It had no combat ability, but it could dodge, block, and mitigate damage based on the student's spell strength.

The examiner nodded. “Your goal is to damage the dummy. Stronger attacks result in a higher score.”

One by one, students stepped forward.

A beastfolk raised his hand, summoning three spheres of condensed wind magic before launching them at the dummy.

The dummy dodged two and blocked the third with its armored plating.

A high elf formed a thin, precise mana blade and fired it. The dummy barely managed to twist out of the way, suffering a minor scratch.

More students went up, each attack more refined than the last. The spells weren’t as destructive as the raw magic of his time, but they were certainly more controlled.

Carrion observed closely, noting the shifts in magical refinement.

Eventually, his name was called.

He stepped forward.

The other students smirked.

“He doesn’t even have a staff?”

“Let’s see this fraud embarrass himself.”

Carrion raised his index finger.

A tiny, flickering red ball formed at the tip.

The crowd snickered.

“Seriously? That’s it?”

“I bet it won’t even leave a dent—”

Carrion fired.

The red orb shot forward at impossible speed.

The dummy—designed to react instantly—did not move.

It couldn’t.

By the time its magical circuits registered the attack, the spell had already drilled a perfect, orange-sized hole through its head.

A second later, the dummy collapsed.

Silence.

The students froze.

The examiners froze.

Even the floating cameras, enchanted to analyze results, flickered in confusion.

The high elf who had been laughing earlier slowly closed his mouth.

Carrion lowered his hand. He frowned slightly.

My magic has weakened significantly.

During the primordial era, that same attack would have vaporized its target. But now, it merely pierced.

Still, it was more than enough.

The examiner, after a long pause, coughed into his fist.

“…Wordless casting. Perfect form. Unbelievable precision. One hundred out of one hundred.”

Murmurs erupted through the crowd.

“D-Direct casting? Without a chant?!”

“He didn’t even use a formation circle!”

“What kind of freak is this guy…?!”

Carrion turned and walked back to his spot.

The other students subtly shuffled away.

By the end of the exam, Carrion had achieved a perfect score.

His written test had been flawless.
His magic test had been terrifying.

The examiners didn’t even bother grading him further.

“Well,” the lead examiner said, forcing a smile. “Congratulations. You’ve passed.”

Carrion nodded.

The students, however, whispered nervously.

“…What is he?”

“Did we just witness the birth of a new monster?”

“I should probably avoid making enemies with him…”

Carrion ignored them.

Instead, he stared at the academy gates.

He had successfully entered this institution of learning.

Now, his real goal could begin.

Understanding this era.