The appraiser lady woke with a scream, drenched in sweat and trembling. She gasped for air as she tried to sit upright, eyes wide in terror. An instructor nearby rushed over, alarmed.
"What happened? You froze mid-appraisal and passed out!" he asked.
Still shivering, the woman gripped the sheets of her cot and burst out, "GET OUT!! LEAVE ME ALONE!! T-that boy... he's not gifted… he's cursed. Mountains... endless mountains of ghastly figures stood behind him. They were all staring at me… like they were going to devour my soul."
The instructor's expression darkened with confusion. "What do you mean? Have you lost your mind?"
But the woman only repeated the same words, her voice hoarse, eyes unfocused. "They looked into me. I've never seen anything like it."
"I just want to ask the boy a few—"
"NO! STAY AWAY FROM HIM! HE'S NOT WHAT HE SEEMS! I SAW IT MYSELF!" she screamed, clutching her arms around her knees.
The instructor, unnerved but trying to maintain composure, left the room. Her frantic cries echoed behind him as he walked down the corridor.
Outside, Lumiel sat quietly in the waiting area. He had remained still for nearly half an hour, hands folded on his lap.
"Hey, sorry for the long wait," the instructor said, approaching him with a forced smile. "There were some, uh... technical difficulties. I hope you understand."
Lumiel looked up and nodded. "It's alright. I didn't have anything better to do anyway. Am I allowed to continue with the examination?"
The instructor asked for his name, checked his screen, and nodded. "You're good to go. Head straight through that hallway for the next test."
Lumiel thanked him and followed the directions.
The second examination was a class placement test — a combat trial. The room was alive with noise: swords clashing, spell incantations echoing, bullets clinking into dummies. Combatants sparred and demonstrated their capabilities with weapons, spell tomes, enchanted wands, and even high-tech gear.
But Lumiel? He stood with empty hands.
A few candidates near him noticed. "Hey, look at that kid. He forgot his weapon!"
"Nah, I think that's the 'Civilian' kid. Probably wandered in here by mistake."
Laughter followed. But Lumiel didn't flinch. He had heard worse. He had lived through worse.
When it was his turn, he walked toward the center of the room where a large combat dummy awaited. The combat instructor glanced at him.
"Name?"
"L-Lumiel."
The instructor frowned at the screen. Civilian. No recorded gift.
"Gift?" he asked skeptically.
Lumiel straightened his posture and replied, calm and clear. "Heaven and Earth Sword Style."
The instructor raised a brow. "A sword style? Where's your weapon then? Nevermind. Just show us."
Lumiel stepped forward.
In a quiet exhale, a blade of energy formed in his right hand — shimmering and ethereal, yet grounded in undeniable presence. With a single fluid motion, he slashed.
The reinforced dummy — designed to withstand the blows of even the top 50 Gifted — was split clean in half. The wind pressure alone tore through the air and left a deep slash etched across the facility's back wall.
Gasps filled the room. Silence followed.
The instructor stumbled backward, mouth agape. "W-What the hell!? That dummy was supposed to withstand a top 50's attack! A-and the wall… that wall was designed to absorb a high-ranking demon's blast!"
Everyone stared. Even Lumiel. He hadn't expected that.
The boy with no weapon, no known Gift, and a "Civilian" label… had just left the entire room speechless.