After her explanation, the staff member raised her hand and began brushing away the remaining fine crystal dust from her robe and glasses. Once she was sure her formal attire was completely clean, she asked both of them to accompany her outside.
The three of them moved toward the door. But after a few steps, Ace suddenly felt something unusual sweep through his being—like a wave of exhaustion surging into his limbs. His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the ground, kneeling with one hand clutching his head, as if a sharp pain was pounding inside his skull.
"Mr. Ace!"
Emilia cried out and knelt beside him, her eyes filled with worry. The staff member, however, showed no signs of alarm. She observed him briefly and then said calmly:
"Don't worry, miss. It's a normal reaction."
Emilia raised her head, concern etched on her face, and asked:
"What do you mean?"
"Usually, candidates have decent control over their energy flow, allowing it to emerge steadily during extraction. But those with poor control deplete their energy quickly. Releasing such a large amount all at once drains the body and causes harm, especially if the body isn't prepared. What he's feeling now is simply fatigue."
She paused, then added in a quiet voice tinged with warning:
"I'm afraid this may impact his next test."
Both Emilia and Ace understood the implication—this sudden weakness could affect the upcoming strength assessment. Even so, Ace wasn't ready to show any signs of hesitation. He forced himself to stand despite his trembling legs. He looked at the girl, then at the staff member, and tried to steady his voice as he said:
"No need to worry. It's just a little dizziness."
His words weren't enough to erase the concern from the girl's face. She clung to him, supporting his weight, afraid he might collapse again. The staff member merely cast a professional, evaluating glance at him, then said with the calm tone of someone experienced in such matters:
"It would be wiser for you to rest before taking the next test. I suggest you return tomorrow."
Ace looked at her for a few seconds. Deep down, he knew his body needed time to recover its strength, but he wasn't willing to wait a full day. Every minute he spent standing still meant a loss he couldn't afford. He hesitated, then exhaled quietly and said:
"I'm fine. We can continue."
His voice carried an unshakable determination, though his eyes betrayed his fatigue. Emilia advised him to wait and recover, but he insisted on moving forward. She hesitated, then said with anxious concern:
"Alright, if that's what you want... but please, don't push yourself too hard."
Ace nodded, and the staff member remained silent, respecting his choice. She stepped forward and opened the door. To her surprise, a group of female staff members were gathered outside, their faces tense, bodies leaning as if they'd been trying to eavesdrop.
Suddenly, one of them spoke with barely restrained worry:
"W-what just happened in there? We felt a sudden spike in magical energy—throughout the entire guild!"
The staff member wasn't surprised by their reaction. She simply smiled with quiet confidence and replied in a calm voice tinged with pride:
"Don't worry. Everything's fine. It seems we're on the verge of welcoming an extraordinary adventurer to our guild."
She paused, then added:
"Even if only for a short time."
4
Ace and Emilia returned to the waiting chairs as the staff member began transferring all the information from the magical test onto the ornate application form. Only moments passed before she called them to follow her for the combat test. The three exited through a side door, descended the outer staircase, and circled behind the guild building to reach a backyard—a wide training arena covered in fine white sand, surrounded by an aura of organized chaos.
Order was not the dominant trait here. The ground bore the marks of past battles and training sessions. Scattered around were old, broken weapons, some rusted, others shattered, as if the arena preserved the memory of countless trials.
The staff member stopped at the edge of the field, her feet firm on the sandy surface. She turned and glanced at Ace with a look that combined solemnity and anticipation before speaking in a neutral, stern tone:
"The next test is simple in concept, but it will demand effort. Your combat skills will be evaluated. Winning or losing is not important, but the observations I gather will be crucial in assessing your qualification."
Despite his exhaustion, Ace replied with a firm, unwavering voice:
"I'm ready."
She stared at him for a moment, then nodded as if convinced. She turned and walked toward a corner of the arena, where a pile of old wooden barrels had been stacked carelessly, seemingly abandoned for years. Atop them lay a man, probably middle-aged, one leg dangling lazily while the other rested on the edge of a barrel. He looked completely indifferent to the world.
In his hand, he held a brass flask, from which he took deep sips now and then, as if trying to extinguish flames burning in his chest. He didn't look wise—his features were rough, carved by battles. His brown hair fell disorderly over his shoulders, streaked with scattered strands of gray that added a strange dignity to his otherwise disheveled state.
His clothes were offensively simple—an old, stained shirt and trousers that looked like they hadn't been washed in years. In his hand, he held a wooden sword, which he waved rhythmically up and down, as if playing invisible notes. Each swing let out a soft sound, slicing the air like a sharp whisper.
The staff member approached him heavily, stopping nearby and glaring at him with frustration before saying, her voice tinged with irritation:
"There's a new applicant for the test."
The man didn't look up. Her voice seemed to take a moment to pierce through his haze. Eventually, he turned his face toward her, then, wordlessly, jumped off the barrels. His body swayed for a moment, but he regained balance quickly, as if it knew how to reset itself. His previously dull eyes lit up faintly, like a sword unsheathed after a long slumber. His lips tightened and his brows drew together, giving him a stern expression tinged with annoyance.
He narrowed his eyes at the distant young man, silently evaluating him—as if reading unwritten lines on his face. Then he slowly lifted a finger and pointed at Ace:
"That kid? No way he's the one applying for the test, right?"
His words carried open disdain, as if the idea of that young man taking the test was laughable. The staff member confirmed he was indeed the applicant. The man turned again to scrutinize Ace for any trace of strength or determination, but instead found only a serene, unreadable calm—and even a hint of silent fatigue.
After a moment, he exhaled a heavy breath laced with the scent of alcohol and turned to climb back onto the barrels—his usual place to drink his preferred brew, the one thing that gave him peace in a life that never stopped piling burdens on his shoulders. But just as he began to lift himself, a sharp, familiar voice rang out from afar, triggering a headache in his mind.
"Stop right there!"
He turned to see a small girl glaring at him with fierce eyes. He raised his eyebrows in annoyance and sighed slowly before muttering:
"Damn… it's that brat. Why did she have to show up at the guild now of all times?"
Emilia didn't need to say more. The man already knew that if he didn't do his job, he would never get a peaceful nap again. Worse, she might report him to the guild master, dragging him into matters he had no desire to deal with. He glanced at Ace once more in search of something—anything—remarkable. But again, he found nothing. With a deep sigh, he waved a hand for the young man to step into the arena.
The two stood in the center, the air heavy with the scent of sand. The man approached Ace until his foul breath nearly touched his face. His eyes, shadowed by fatigue and disappointment, locked onto Ace's, and he said in a gruff, low voice:
"Listen, kid. If you really want to do this, I won't stop you. But I advise you to go home. The adventurer's path isn't for the weak."