"Who are you? You stupid Greybeard! Aren't you supposed to be running the exam? That's what your boss is for—bring him. You can't? Do you at least know what you're supposed to do? I understand. Then I have no choice but to give you free rein over my mind, at least for this battle. But first, we must go for our war companions—my dear students who still have a chance to reach level ten.
I found them in the hallways. No one approached; they knew I was the one who decided who would pass. But my secretary went around handing out their grades. For many, it only said they had to try harder to understand. Five said they had to come downstairs with me. There were two disciples who had started at level ten a year ago—they would be almost at the same level as mine.
Downstairs, everyone looked at me bewildered. I explained that the practical exam was about to begin; they were the only ones who had passed the theoretical. I had to show them, so I did—the enormous armies coming against us, people who were fire users, in magic and siege weapons. I gave them the order to annihilate everyone but at the same time be responsible for the lives of all who inhabited Bloody Coin. If one of them died, they lost. More than that, I told them that if they lost a limb, they were disqualified. Everyone became serious, thinking about the enchantments to use, which they could keep launching no matter the number of enemies, which they could use in any environment without affecting anything. Fortune smiled on me—the Dark Forest belt was not so dense here, so I had a good plain about two kilometers away. There, I placed my traps.
The runes detect that stupid mark of submission to a god. I found that out long ago when I captured many of their emissaries. Your leader did not agree, but I could not allow them to reach here. Bloody Coin has fewer enemies than Stormhammer because here we are terminal with our attackers. I know you'll say they have power—they have nothing! All that display of control can only be done by your master and other madmen like him. Here, here we work with true power—the one that does not put your sanity on the edge. I look at my students; none are afraid. When the first of my enemies flies, I see the seven directed arrows—they are elemental constructs. None of these consume anything, and we can launch dozens per second. Since all the traps were activated, it meant two hundred died on first contact.
The volley of projectiles and fireballs were received differently. Thriron led those who attacked with more force—a tide of green flames was launched. They fed on the projectiles and the red flames. They were diabolical flames, consuming the oxygen of an area. Nothing survives their attacks, and they burn feeding only on enemy attacks, so the forest would be safe—very good! Pergan chose to return the attack, using the enemies' trajectory and, with a few runes, turned incoming missiles into missiles that returned to their origin. I am not a fan of this because it burns things using the enemy's flames... wait, I think I'm misinterpreting. As the attacks fell, more like Pergan placed domes that wouldn't let the fire out. That part of the army would die of suffocation... not bad.
I tried to make a good impression, so when the 'dragons' made of magic began to be invoked, my void spheres were active. Apparently, these humans did not know how to use magic shields. They were armed, and each armor carried defense and fire attack runes. It didn't matter—it was time for them to learn the true use of fire. My spheres were large, almost the size of a regiment. But I compressed them, with considerable magic expenditure, until they were the size of a body. I could make them smaller, but there was no point—they couldn't see them. Inside the enemy zone, I expanded them as fast as possible. The air friction caused a wave of fire that incinerated and severely burned everyone. But that wasn't the beautiful part. The sphere's limits had not disappeared—they only grew to let it do damage. Once done, with the fire still consuming everything, I hardened the spheres. I didn't intend to suffocate them like Pergan—I had a more dissuasive plan. The sphere contracted again, quickly. The pressure difference in the atmosphere was so strong that their eyes bled, their lungs came out of their tracheas outward—a spectacle few lived to tell due to the pain. Perfect for making them desist.
*None wanted to leave. We had killed thousands, but they kept coming. Now their priests were appearing, all wielding elemental fire spheres, crying out to their goddess. But they were tired—no living or summonable beasts remained. Thriron looked tired, but finally, he would use his signature magic. Everyone has one where they modified the basic concept. He had invoked ice spheres—nothing original... hmm, I think I need to change my perception. He used the spheres to impact them with the spheres until they completely melted. Then he used the water until only steam remained—controlled by him. That was what he used to attack them—boiling steam, moved by his enchantment, coursing through bodies and burning them in soft areas, getting into their armor, into the crevices, sticking to the priests' robes, flaying them alive—very impressive! *
Pergan was the last. Everyone was tired. He stood before the enemies; few remained. He addressed them seeking consensus. But then, even I saw it—several of their priests committed suicide, and a giant hand of fire appeared in the air and was slammed against his figure. Poor thing, no one should have survived that. But is he still alive? I think he just made an imitation of the Whitecap's shield. In an ascending spiral, he left an opening to avoid dying without air... That—that is not Redcap. We destroy; we don't let ourselves be destroyed. I will have words with that young man. The rest, I need say nothing—they are stupendous to begin level ten training. The Redcaps have a very good crop of powerful people."
The transmission ended. I did not like this—the Redcaps were not merciful. They did not care what they did with their lives as long as the enemy's was extinguished. Yet I would not let this exam go to waste. I turned to look at everyone and immediately understood why the grading guidelines were what they were. I sent everyone to rest. Tomorrow, half would receive their level-ten mage title and would begin to prepare to go to the various villages, to serve as support and a source of well-being for them. Those who were not horrified would receive their course repetition letter—we were not interested in people who did not feel the pain of the fallen. Only ten would receive their invitation to level twelve. From there to level twenty was a long way, but they had what was necessary. They thought with horror but also with the conviction that they could limit the damage or prevent a war. Those were the ones my master wanted. Of those, there were only twenty—most hidden as small mages in nameless cities, waiting for the Lich's movement or the Chaos agent's. I—I would not have passed. I was looking for how to make the crap sphere the Redcap leader designed. If I had had it, the orcs would not have done so much damage. My master knew it—that was why he did not teach it to me. It was his idea. To think that a pacifist secretly sends spells to the Redcaps so they are not swept off the map... What world do we live in?