XVIII: The Ranking Test
HE’S got it all wrong, I thought.
It had been ten years since I’d become an examiner after an injury had caused me to retire from my career as an adventurer. I’d seen countless rookies in my time. People who wanted to become adventurers were by and large ambitious and arrogant. By purposefully provoking them to gauge their reactions, I always saw through to their real natures. It was my own personal method.
Naturally, I tested Marcus, the latest of the rookies, in the same way. But when I disparaged him, he only looked awkward, rather than readily showing me his true self. So, I provoked him even more, ordering him to hit me. I’d heard he was registering as a wizard, so I underestimated him, thinking that whatever he could throw at me would be no big deal.
It turned out Marcus was hiding some killer fangs. He knocked me out in a single blow. I’d never seen a rookie this strong in all my years of being an examiner.
I knew it—this was someone exceptional. The reason he hadn’t gotten angry when I’d provoked him was probably because he had confidence in his strength. But what I sensed in him wasn’t a talent for wizardry; my instincts were telling me that he should work as a boxer, a job that meant using your own body as your weapon, or at least some sort of warrior.
This sort of thing was rare, but it did happen. Sometimes people didn’t know their own talents, and one of the duties of an examiner was to guide them. I had to make Marcus into a splendid fighter. I had to harden my heart and close off his path to being a wizard.
The large courtyard of the Guild’s building served as a training facility for adventurers, and in that courtyard there was a conspicuously massive boulder. It was there to humble cocky adventurers. If I was dealing with a swordsman, I’d challenge him to cut the boulder with his sword, and if he was a wizard I’d tell him to destroy it with a spell. I always said that any first-rate adventurer could do it without breaking a sweat.
As it happened, though, not one person had ever cracked the boulder. Really, it made sense—the boulder had always been there because no one could crack it. Even the Guild didn’t want it there, because it was in the way, but at least it had a purpose: to admonish adventurers for their unearned pride and put them back on the right track.
I showed the boulder to Marcus.
He just offhandedly remarked, “It sure is big,” and stared at it absentmindedly.
Others would have shown more caution, but he had an attitude like he was king of an entire country. Nothing could shake that bastard.
“If you’re so set on being a wizard, then show me you can destroy this boulder with magic. If you can’t, then you have no talent.”
It pained me a bit to lie to him, but I was doing it because I cared about his future.
“Destroy this boulder, with magic?” Marcus tilted his head quizzically, but he didn’t seem too troubled.
There’s no way he can really do it, right?
“All right, I’ll try,” he said.
Without any particular enthusiasm, Marcus began to recite a spell. It was a short incantation, but when he raised his hand, flames that looked like they’d come straight from the pits of hell materialized and engulfed the boulder.
I gulped. Is he planning on melting it with fire? Normally, the strategy is to try using some sort of explosion spell.
Indifferent to my worries, the fierce flames gradually abated. The boulder was…completely intact. It was smoldering a bit, but otherwise unscathed.
“Hmph, it looks like you aren’t cut out to be a wizard after all,” I said, feigning indifference as I wiped cold sweat off my forehead.
“Really? That’s not good.”
But despite what Marcus said, he didn’t seem flustered. He spent a moment thinking, then readied his metal staff.
“All right, can I try out another spell?”