Monday, April 4th, 2020. The first part of the Mana Exam had officially begun. For most students, this was a nerve-wracking, make-or-break moment. For Norman, however, it was more like an extended waiting game—long stretches of boredom broken up by brief moments of performance. His goal wasn't to stand out. It was to coast—smoothly, safely, and utterly forgettably.
The first event of the day was the Physical Aptitude Test: Strength Assessment. The method was straightforward—classic weightlifting. The standard measurement for a peak first-tier mana apprentice was a clean and jerk lift of 200 kilograms. Norman, of course, had no problem lifting well beyond that. But standing out was the opposite of what he wanted.
Instead, he approached the barbell with a serious face and let out a loud, overly dramatic grunt. "Huargh!" he groaned, as if lifting 150 kg was the very limit of his strength. The bar rose steadily, not shakily, but his strained expression sold the act.
The instructor glanced at the numbers, then at Norman's overdone performance, and scribbled a note. "Alright, next," he said in a bored tone.
Norman stepped aside, barely suppressing a grin. "Acting class, check."
After another long wait, it was time for the Speed Test. In this trial, students were clocked sprinting over a short distance. Peak mana apprentices usually topped out at around 40 to 50 km/h—superhuman by normal standards, but just average here.
Norman launched forward at a steady, measured pace, hitting exactly 37.5 km/h. It was fast enough to avoid suspicion, but not fast enough to turn heads.
"Yawn. Next," the speed instructor muttered, clearly unimpressed.
Then came the Endurance Test. This one was a crowd favorite for students—if only because it involved wearing weighted belts and running in circles for as long as possible. The weight today was 150 kg, same for everyone.
Norman jogged with ease, counting his steps, adjusting his breath rhythmically. After 20 minutes, he slowed, gasping for air and wiping non-existent sweat from his forehead. "Huff... huff..." he exhaled dramatically.
The instructor gave a curt nod and gestured for the next participant. It was only noon, but Norman's job was done for the day. He promptly changed out of his training gear and headed into the hunting zones to do what he did best—grind for points.
---
Tuesday arrived, bringing with it the Combat Evaluation, also known as the Spar Test. This was the part where things got tricky. The test was a no-weapons, hand-to-hand spar against a trained instructor whose job was to assess skill, not just power. Norman's natural instincts and training threatened to betray his act if he wasn't careful.
"Let's begin," the instructor said as he stepped into the ring.
Norman bowed slightly, took a stance, and deliberately moved just a little too stiffly. He held back his strength, keeping his strikes clean but slow. Still, his fluid footwork and precise dodges couldn't be completely hidden.
After about ten minutes of exchanges—most of which Norman allowed himself to get pushed back—the instructor raised a hand. "That's enough. Good control, decent awareness."
Another average review. Another victory for Operation Stay-Mediocre.
Once dismissed, Norman immediately headed out to continue his usual mana beast hunting session.
---
Wednesday marked the Energy Manipulation Test, and it started, predictably, with more waiting. Norman had grown used to it—waiting was part of the camouflage.
When it was finally his turn, he stepped forward calmly.
"Begin," instructed the examiner.
Norman held out his hands and cycled through the four basic elemental manipulations—earth, water, fire, and wind. Each display was modest. A flame the size of a soccer ball, a boulder half the height of a person, a sphere of condensed water, and a gust of wind strong enough to scratch the ground.
"Now, your focused element demonstration," the examiner said flatly.
Norman summoned a modest earth shield in front of him and followed up with a couple of boulders thrown at half power. It was a solid, average display—textbook mana manipulation with no frills and no flair.
"Okay, you're done," the instructor said without even lifting his head.
As Norman left the testing area, he muttered under his breath, "Man, hiding your full power is harder than showing off. At least if I'd gone full strength, I'd get to see their jaws drop."
Still, that wasn't the plan. The goal was to be invisible. Forgettable. And so, as usual, he changed clothes and vanished into the hunting area for an afternoon hunt.
---
Thursday brought the Mental Aptitude Test, split into two components—Telekinesis and Psychokinesis.
The telekinesis portion came first. A set of weighted objects lay on a table in front of each student. Most mana apprentices could telekinetically lift around 50 kg, though it varied depending on control and talent level.
Norman stepped up, took a breath, and made a show of struggling to lift a 30 kg boulder. He gritted his teeth, furrowed his brow, and levitated it just high enough to pass.
The instructor scribbled another "passable" note. "Next student," he droned.
Then came the second part: resisting mental intrusion. Students gathered in a formation, standing shoulder to shoulder, while a senior mana knight released waves of oppressive mental force upon them.
The goal was simple—last as long as you could before buckling. Peak mana apprentices could typically endure for about a minute.
Norman took his stance, eyes calm, breathing steady. As the pressure built, students began to drop. Norman waited until about 40 seconds before crumbling to his knees with an exaggerated gasp.
"Huff... huff... ugh…" he groaned, shaking his head as if disoriented.
The instructor nodded indifferently. "Alright. You're done."
Just like that, the mental tests were over. Norman left the training facility with a satisfied grin. Every test, every trial, had gone exactly as planned. His scores would be solid but not exceptional—good enough for any average mana university. Perfect.
As always, once the tests concluded, Norman grabbed his gear and set off toward the forest for his evening grind. There were points to earn, after all. The system didn't feed itself.
And with the final round of exams approaching, Norman knew that the real test wasn't on the school grounds, it was the survival test the next day.