CHAPTER 91: MENTAL TEST.

The morning of the final trial arrived with an oppressive silence that seemed to press against the block’s ancient stones.

Ren stood in the main arena alongside the hundred other prospectives who had survived the previous challenges, each face reflecting a mixture of determination and barely controlled anxiety.

Today was the day the trial would come to an end and they would gain entry into the prestigious Imperial Academy. One of them would also have the honour of joining the imperial class of this academy. The trial loomed before them like the entrance to another world.

Unlike the previous trials that had allowed team work, the remainder of this trial would be a sole run for the first spot. There was nothing like teamwork.

It was all or nothing.

The familiar purple smoke began swirling near the arena centre as the witch materialized with her characteristic theatrical flair. But today, her expression carried a gravity that hadn’t been present during the earlier trials.

"Welcome to your final evaluation," she announced, her voice echoing across the arena with magical amplification. "Today’s trial will separate those destined for greatness from those destined for... other pursuits."

She gestured toward a small, crystalline chamber that had been positioned near the arena edge. The chamber was barely large enough for a single person, it’s translucent walls glowing with soft magical energy.

They had all wondered what they were going to use this for but clearly had no idea.

"The final trial consists of two distinct phases," the witch continued with obvious satisfaction. "The first phase will test something far more fundamental than magical power or tactical brilliance. It will test the integrity of your memory and the strength of your mental discipline."

A murmur of confusion rippled through the crowd and the assembled prospectives. Memory tests were not typically part of magical evaluations, and the unexpected focus suggested complexities that none of them had anticipated.

"Do you remember," the witch asked with a smile that carried implications beyond her words, "the very first instruction I gave you when you arrived at this arena? When I told you to stare at your seats before sitting back down?"

Ren felt a chill of recognition as the pieces began falling into place. The seemingly random instruction from a few days ago suddenly gained profound significance. Around him, he could see other prospectives’ expressions shifting from confusion to dawning comprehension.

And then dawning dread.

"Those seat patterns weren’t decorative," the witch explained with obvious amusement. "They were unique magical signatures specifically designed to test your observational skills and memory retention under pressure."

She gestured toward the crystalline chamber, and Ren could now see that it contained numerous stone slates arranged on simple pedestals. The slates appeared to be carved with intricate patterns that seemed to shift and flow in the magical lighting.

"This chamber contains exactly one hundred slates," the witch continued. "Each slate contains a pattern inscribed on the chairs of each hundred of you. Meaning, to each prospective, ninety-nine of them bear random patterns created specifically to confuse and mislead. One slate—and only one—bears the exact pattern that was carved into your assigned seat on that first day."

The implications were staggering. After two days of intensive trials and magical challenges, advancement to the final phase would depend entirely on whether they had retained perfect memory of a pattern they had been instructed to memorize for only a few seconds?!

"The first thirty two prospectives to correctly identify their slate will advance to the second phase," the witch announced with finality. "Those who choose incorrectly, or who take too long to make their selection, will be eliminated from further consideration."

"Each prospective will have exactly three minutes from the moment they enter their chamber," the witch replied. "Choose quickly, choose correctly, or choose elimination."

The witch’s smile widened with obvious anticipation. "I will call names in the order of merit in the last trial. The first called will have access to all one hundred slates. The last called may find that others have already claimed the patterns they seek."

The psychological pressure was elegant and brutal. Early selection provided maximum options but required confidence in one’s memory. Late selection might offer the advantage of reduced choices but risked finding that the correct slate had already been taken by someone else.

Or worse, the thirty two candidate spots might be already complete before it even reached someone’s turn!

"Ren of Block B," the witch announced with theatrical flourish. "You have the honor of beginning our final evaluation."

Ren felt the weight of thousands of pairs of eyes as he stepped forward toward the crystalline chamber. Being called first was both advantage and burden—he would have access to all possible choices, but he would also have the most amount of possible choices to go through.

The chamber door sealed behind him with a soft chime of magical energy. Inside, the one hundred slates were arranged in ten neat rows of ten, each carved with patterns that seemed to dance and shift in his peripheral vision.

Ren closed his eyes and allowed his mind to return to that day a few days ago. The seat pattern had been simple yet quite complex—under a plain wooden camouflage lay a geometric design incorporating astronomical symbols interwoven with artistic flourishes. He had spent exactly forty-seven seconds studying it before the witch had instructed them to sit.

But Ren’s memory was extraordinary. Years of surviving in environments where forgetting crucial details could mean experimental or lethal disaster had honed his recall to near-perfect precision. He could visualize the pattern as clearly as if he were looking at it directly.

Opening his eyes, he began scanning the slates with systematic efficiency. Most of the patterns were obviously wrong—too simple, too complex, or incorporating symbols that hadn’t been present in his original design. His analytical mind filtered through the options with mechanical precision.

Row three, slate seven. The pattern matched his memory perfectly.

Ren picked up the slate and felt a surge of magical energy as the chamber recognized his correct selection. The walls glowed with green light, confirming his success as the door opened automatically.

"One minute, three seconds," the witch announced with approval as he emerged. "Most efficient. Please wait in the designated area for successful candidates."

As Ren moved to the indicated section of the arena, he could see the mixture of admiration and concern on other prospectives’ faces. His rapid selection had demonstrated either perfect memory or exceptional luck, but it had also established a time standard that would pressure everyone who followed.

"Mirabella of Block A," the witch called next.

Ren watched as Mirabella approached her chamber with characteristic composure. Of all the remaining prospectives, she was the one most likely to have retained perfect memory of her seat pattern as well. Her analytical mind and systematic approach to information retention made her ideally suited for this type of challenge.

But being called second still carried risks. If someone else possessed a similar pattern, or if her memory contained subtle inaccuracies, she could find herself eliminated despite her obvious capabilities.

The chamber door sealed behind her, and Ren found himself holding his breath despite knowing that her success or failure wouldn’t directly affect his own advancement.

The next three minutes would determine whether the Neutral faction’s most promising member would advance to the final phase, or whether the memory test would claim its first victim among the academy’s elite prospectives.

Through the translucent walls, he could see Mirabella moving through the slates with deliberate precision, her analytical mind working through the options with the same systematic approach that had made her formidable throughout the previous trials.

The question was whether systematic analysis would be sufficient when faced with the pressure of time limits and the knowledge that a single mistake would end her academy goals entirely.

It was.

Mirabella emerged from her chamber after two minutes and twelve seconds, holding her slate with the same calm confidence she had shown throughout every previous trial.

"Excellent memory retention," the witch commented with approval. "Please join our first qualifier."

Ren nodded to Mirabella as she approached the successful candidates area. Her selection had been methodical but efficient, exactly what he would have expected from someone with her analytical capabilities.

"Sertina of Block C," came the next call.

Ren recognized the name, she was shadow after all. The unofficial number 1 prospective of Block C. Ren remembered that she had broken through to the adept stage a whole three days before he did.

And that was after burning his life force like crazy and risking mental combustion.

Her selection process took the full three minutes, but she emerged successful just as the time limit expired. The pressure was clearly affecting decision-making speed, even among students with excellent memories.

Five more prospectives were called up to the chamber and all of them managed to identify their slate within the time limit. Ren was impressed. All of these girls had superb memory abilities that would have been exceptional in his former life.

And they were all very beautiful and voluptuous, way more than the girls of his past life as well.

This thought brought Ren’s attention to another very important matter. Shouldn’t he be taking advantage of his position a bit more? After all, he was the only male in an academy filled with beauties of every taste!

He needed to take the time to identify potential targe—

"Lia of Block B," the witch announced.

Ren felt his attention sharpen as his ’friend’ approached her chamber. Lia’s enthusiasm and natural magical talent had served her well throughout the trials, but memory retention under pressure required different skills than combat effectiveness or battle instincts.

The chamber door sealed behind her, and Ren found himself more nervous than he had been during his own selection. Through the translucent walls, he could see Lia moving through the slates with characteristic energy, but her usual animated confidence seemed strained under the time pressure.

One minute passed. Then two.

Lia was still moving through the slates, her body language showing increasing frustration as she compared patterns to her memory. Unlike the previous successful candidates, she appeared to be second-guessing herself, picking up slates only to put them down again.

Two minutes, thirty seconds.

Ren could see her holding a slate in each hand, clearly torn between two options that both seemed to match her recollection. The time pressure was creating exactly the kind of uncertainty that made memory recall more difficult.

Two minutes, fifty-five seconds!