Rewinding time to the day following the entrance examination.
Inside the conference room of the Magias Central Tower, the proctors were solemnly conducting their final review.
"...That concludes the overall exam results."
The dozen or so faculty members each took a moment to digest the clerk's report.
Some groaned quietly, others breathed sighs of admiration, and several stared intently at the documents in their hands with visible concern.
"This year, we had over thirty thousand applicants. After the document screening, written exam, and practical test, forty-five have passed the final selection. Seven of them are candidates for the Imperial Archmage Faculty."
"That's a lot," a young teacher murmured.
Though the entrance examination was held only once every few years, calling this year's batch a bumper crop was no exaggeration.
Most notable of all was the sheer number of candidates selected for the Imperial Archmage Faculty. While the special curriculum typically admitted only a handful of students, this year had yielded an exceptional outcome that demanded an abrupt expansion of the acceptance quota.
"Among the entire applicant pool, those who demonstrated exceptionally high combat capability were:
Mercedes Meltzelia,
and Gerald Whitesmith.
Both achieved results rivaling some of our own faculty members, and Lord Walker's grandson performed just as I explained earlier."
The moment those three names were spoken, the air in the conference room grew slightly heavy.
It was not out of awe, but rather the sort of silence that fell when confronted with something notoriously difficult to handle.
Even so, their talent was undeniable.
While raw strength did not automatically equate to competence, combat capability and a mage's overall prowess shared an intimate link. The Imperial Archmage Faculty, in particular, was often counted among the nation's military assets before being viewed as simple researchers.
In that regard, the exam results of the applicants favored for admission were already legendary among a portion of the student body.
Word had it that one candidate had fought on equal or greater terms against an examiner during the practical test. Another had flattened a massive chunk of iron with magic.
And yet another had allegedly obliterated the entire testing ground with a single bare-handed strike.
Such rumors—wildly embellished as they likely were—had already begun making the rounds mere days after the exam.
"Do you have anything to add, Vice Principal Gertrude?"
At the clerk's inquiry, the petite, mild-mannered elderly woman answered without opening her eyes.
"For the most part, they were all good kids."
Setting aside the vice principal's impressions, there was a persistent jinx that students entering the Imperial Archmage Faculty tended to have personality defects. Because they were far too exceptional, they struggled to communicate with others, resulting in no shortage of behavioral issues and voluntary dropouts.
"...Though they remain strictly rumors, we have also received reports that several candidates had minor disputes with other examinees during the test."
"I just hope students like Wilhelm and his crowd aren't mixed in among them..."
"A little verbal spat is harmless enough, isn't it? Besides, only the parties involved know who started it in the first place."
"Well, if someone disrespects you, you just have to knock them flat, right?"
The faculty members voiced their respective opinions based on the exam data.
Bringing the discussion to a close, the elderly man seated at the head of the table spoke with solemn gravity.
"Our academy is the foremost magical institution in the world. The Imperial Archmage Faculty is its absolute pinnacle. We should first rejoice in the fact that seven students have met the criteria for admission."
No one could dispute that.
There was no question that this year's lineup was exceptionally talented.
And precisely because of that, anxieties lingered over whether it was truly wise to pour research funds into them like water.
"Headmaster, if you would now deliver the final resolution..."
The sharp-eyed elderly man addressed as headmaster gave a nod to the clerk's prompt. His roving eyes were reminiscent of a bird of prey.
"Mercedes Meltzelia.
Gerald Whitesmith.
Luluck Lulu Lunlun.
Amae Vandenberg.
Garry Locke.
Filiestra Adinson.
Brendan Walker.
I hereby certify these seven individuals as possessing exceptional ability and magical aptitude, and grant them admission to the Imperial Archmage Faculty."
"Very well."
The one-eyed elderly man—Ordion Raves—nodded slowly and fixed a sharp gaze on a nearby staff member.
His eyes fell upon a woman in the prime of her adulthood with faint dark circles beneath her eyes.
"I leave the rest in your hands, Miss Blanchard. Strive to nurture as many archmages as possible."
"Yes, understood."
"With that, we are adjourned for today. In addition, Associate Professor Yuriha, you are suspected of significantly disrupting the written examination, so report to my office afterward."
"Ehh?!"