Deadly selection, or rather hilarious

Sometimes the road to wisdom begins with cake.
But more often—with a death threat and an ultimatum from the System.
After saying goodbye to his “new” family and spending three weeks in preparation, Marcus set off.He didn’t know what exactly awaited him at the academy—besides “impending catastrophes” and “merciless exams”—but one thing was certain:There was no turning back.Not because he didn’t want to.Because there was nowhere left to turn back to.
The carriage he rode in… let’s just say the suspension hadn’t been updated since the previous monarch.But eventually, he arrived.
And there it was—Schwarzfer Academy.
> “An academy of magic, chaos, and, judging by the energy, complete anarchy,” Marcus would later think.


A massive archway stood before him, engraved and gleaming in the sun like the academy itself was shouting:“We are expensive. Especially to your sanity.”
Above the entrance hung a sign:
> “Schwarzfer Academy — Forging the Future (or something vaguely like it).”


Marcus raised an eyebrow.
“‘Forging,’ huh? Guess they’re hammering out common sense too.”
> SYSTEM: Location updated.Main objective: Pass the entrance exam.Secondary objective: Don’t die.


“Thanks, System. Always a source of comfort.”
He stepped inside——and was immediately hit by a shockwave of wild magic.
BOOM.
To the right, a flash of light.Then someone screamed:
“THE MOUSE LOOKED SUSPICIOUS!”
What had once been a bush was now a crater.
Marcus stood frozen.
“Is… this normal?”
> SYSTEM: These are students. Unfortunately, yes.


He walked through the courtyard.The buildings were majestic—white stone, frescoes, towers.But the scene outside? Pure chaos.
One guy begged a fire spirit not to set his pants on fire.Another argued with his wand, threatening to toss it into a river.Someone else was trying to tame a glowing orb—until it zapped him across the face.
> “This isn’t an academy. It’s a magical asylum,” Marcus thought.“And I’m supposed to study here. Wonderful.”



---
The Entrance Exam: Survive or Fail
In the central courtyard, all the new students had gathered.Some looked confident. Most looked like they were about to take an exam where the only grade was “alive or not.”
One particularly flashy guy climbed onto a platform and declared:
“With my power, I need no exam! I am the chosen one!”
Ten minutes later, he accidentally teleported himself into the academy fountain.The fountain did not want to let him go.
> SYSTEM: New objective added: Survive the entrance exam.


“System, you wouldn’t happen to have a helmet for my brain?”
> SYSTEM: No. But I do offer sarcasm and detailed mortality statistics.


A tall woman approached the group.She had long black hair and the tired face of someone who’s survived ten years of freshmen… and two years working with the Ministry of Magic.
“I am Professor Irma Delar,” she said. “If you came here looking for an easy life, congratulations—you got the wrong dimension.”“The entrance exam starts now. Those who survive… are the lucky ones.”
“…Why does everything sound like a horror movie trailer?”
> SYSTEM: Because it kind of is.



---
Trial I: Write your fate… or your death
They were led into a hall that looked more like a temple than a classroom.No desks. Just stone pedestals.Each one had parchment and a quill.Above them floated a glowing sign:
> “Trial 1: Create a Battle Scene. It will come to life.”


Professor Irma explained:
“You have fifteen minutes.Write a description of a fight.What you write will manifest.Win, and you proceed.”
Marcus froze. Panic rose in his chest.
“What the… Is this a writing contest? I’m not a writer—wait. That’s literally my skill.”
> SYSTEM: Reminder — Skill “Writer” is active. Proceed. Cautiously.


He picked up the quill, took a breath, and began:
> “In front of me appears a goblin. Small. Dumb.Instead of a sword, he holds a mop.His helmet is a pot.He screams ‘BOOGABOOGA!’ and trips over his own feet.”


The quill stopped moving.The System flickered.And in that exact moment—
POOF!
A goblin popped into existence, just as described.He shrieked, swung his mop, tripped, and slammed face-first into the floor.
Silence.
Professor Irma blinked, barely suppressing a smirk.
“…For originality and creative force—you pass.”
“I… I what?”
> SYSTEM: Congratulations. You have created the world’s first combat style: Comedic Self-Destruction.


> Note: “I always knew my writing could kill. Just… not this literally.”



---
Marcus passed. Barely.
His skill still felt weird and unpredictable.The world—even weirder.
What was waiting behind the next trial?What were the real rules of this academy?
He looked up at the sky.
“…Can I just lie down and take a nap?”
> SYSTEM: Denied.