A few moments passed, and Sir Regurd's voice tore through the air once again.
"Listen up!" he shouted, loud enough to make several examinees flinch.
"Now that you've chosen your desired weapon, you will each receive a basic skill that comes with it."
Rye let out a small sigh. Ah… so I don't get skills just from touching weapons after all.
"You will now be tested on your skills and combat capability," Sir Regurd continued, his tone sharp. "Being a climber isn't all fun and adventure. If you cannot properly engage in combat, you will fail this exam."
A voice rose frantically from the crowd. "Does that mean we're fighting something right now!?"
Sir Regurd laughed, loud and obnoxious as ever.
"Not yet! First, you will test your skills!"
He snapped his fingers. "You cannot view the skills you've been given. They consist only of [Basic Slash] for melee users and [Fireball] for magic staff users. Ranged weapon users with bows or crossbows will simply need to hit the targets head or body. Your score will depend on how fatal your strike is."
Another snap.
THUD! THUD! THUD!
Dummies materialized from thin air, each one shaped like a pale human figure with featureless white skin.
"You'll test your skills on these," he said, walking over to one and tapping its head. "Don't be fooled by their appearance. These things are sturdier than they look."
He raised a hand.
"[Weak Fireball]."
A small but blazing orb shot from his palm and struck the dummy, splashing sparks across its chest. Smoke curled upward, though the dummy barely budged.
Gasps rippled through the examinees.
"Now," he said, stepping back, "it's your turn. You will each strike the dummy once with everything you have. One attack only, anything more will result in immediate disqualification."
He tightened his gloves.
"To cast your skill, say its name aloud. With enough training, you'll eventually cast without speaking."
The crowd buzzed with excitement, energy moving through them like electricity.
Rye felt excitement rising too... until something caught his eye.
The girl from earlier.
She stood a short distance away, bow in hand. Her posture was precise, almost elegant. She wore a sleeveless black top and fitted arm guards that wrapped around her forearms. A quiver rested lightly on her hip. She moved with the confidence of someone who'd used a bow more than a few times, calm, steady, and composed. If she noticed Rye looking, she didn't show it.
The instructor finally began calling names.
The test progressed smoothly. Rye watched each examinee step forward, unleash their skill, and receive a brief nod from Sir Regurd.
Melee users swung their blades, axes, dagger, and spears in all sorts of angles as [Basic Slash] lit faintly along the edge. Most of them hit the dummy with little to no effect, merely tapping it or leaving a faint scratch. A few managed visible dents, and some… well, some were exceptionally strong, causing the dummy to shift or shake.
Then..
"Tryna Herth!" Sir Regurd called.
"Aye!" the woman responded with a squeaky but confident voice, giving a quick salute.
Tryna stepped forward with an almost swagger-like walk. Black hair fell to her shoulders, and her brown eyes sparkled with energy. She wore a cropped top and fitted jeans, her figure toned and athletic. A massive axe rested on her shoulder—too large for most people to even lift. Leather shoulder armor and matching kneepads completed her rough, battle-ready appearance.
She took her stance in front of the dummy, gripping the axe like a seasoned lumberjack preparing to fell a tree.
"Ready?" Sir Regurd asked.
"Yep!" she chirped.
"Go."
Tryna opened her mouth and shouted the skill name aloud—
"[Basic Slash]!" she yelled, swinging the axe with all her strength.
Swoosh!
The moment the blade connected, the training dummy split cleanly in half.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Most examinees before her only managed deep cuts, maybe a severed limb at best, but she had cut the entire thing straight through. The upper torso slid off and fell into the grass with a dull thud.
The instructor scribbled quickly on his clipboard, eyebrows raised.
"Good work! You can move to the side with the rest of the finished examinees," he said with an impressed smile.
Rye stood there, stunned.
Jeez… the impact of that must've been insane… A nervous chill crawled up his spine.
More examinees took their turns. Some were decent, a few even strong—but none came close to that woman's strike.
"Rye Osmond!" the instructor called out.
"Yes, sir!" Rye stepped forward, gripping his staff tightly. His legs felt a little shaky as he positioned himself in front of the dummy.
He swallowed hard.
"Start!"
"[Fireball]!"
He aimed the tip of his staff like he had seen the others do and closed his eyes as he triggered the spell.
A tiny flash. No sound. No impact.
When he opened his eyes, he froze.
A small burnt mark., barely larger than a coin, sizzled on the dummy's shoulder.
"…Huh?!" His voice cracked.
"Mhm…" the instructor muttered, not even hiding his disappointment.
"Alright, Mr. Rye. You can proceed with the rest."
Rye walked toward the group, face heating up in embarrassment.
Isn't my magic power 10? Isn't that supposed to be high? Why is it so weak?!
He grabbed his head with one hand, frustration building.
"Argh… Maybe I really am that weak. But still.., that little? Even the weakest earlier managed to scorch the dummy's hand…"
My life as a climber is already over… and I haven't even started yet.