Class Sorting Exam

From Akira's perspective:

"Pair number 200110, Akira Suzuki and Elise Obrus."

"Here!"

We were taking the class sorting exam. The results of this exam would determine whether we could enter the elite class. The exam consisted of a virtual combat scenario.

Created by the latest computer technology combined with manifestation magic, we students were thrown into a virtual space to battle a tutorial dragon.

"Ah, darn!"

"That was close! You did well!"

As a pair that had already completed their mock battle commiserated in the background, we donned our headgear and plunged into consciousness.

When I awoke, a dragon, designed like something out of a pixelated sandbox game, was spewing fire before us. Meanwhile, Elise and I had bodies that were true to real life.

The surroundings were built up with blocks of grass and water—likely designed to mimic a marshland.

In this simulation, we were only allowed to use one pre-approved spell each. I had registered for the Wind Blade spell, and Elise for the Star Spirit Healing.

"Just do your best," came a lackluster cheer.

"I will, regardless," I replied and began chanting the Wind Blade spell.

The blade of wind shot out and hit the dragon. Huh? There was no reaction. There were no typical game indicators like damage numbers popping up or any animation that suggested the dragon was hurt.

Was it ineffective?

I chanted again and approached the dragon to ensure the wind blade hit directly. Still, there was no reaction.

"You fool. Did you really think a Wind Blade would work? The tutorial dragon is wind-element. Attacks of the same element only have half the effect—it's common knowledge from compulsory education."

Of course, I recalled some computer games from my middle school days incorporating such design mechanics. However, I am not originally from this world, and Narsha and the others did not seem to have received such formal education but had learned magic on their own.

It was a stark reminder of educational disparities, something also problematic in Japan where I'm from, but it hadn't quite resonated with me until now.

"Why didn't you tell me when I was registering the spell?"

"I thought you had some strategy in mind since you didn’t ask."

With that said, there wasn't much more I could argue. But still, the lack of initiative was frustrating. If there was even a slight desire to excel, one might think she would have corrected me the moment I registered the Wind Blade.

It seemed like she didn’t care about the outcome of the class assignment exam at all. Why?

The direction of her school life might also depend on my performance. There must be some secret she harbors.

But what it was, I had no way of knowing.