Fleshcrafting Technomancer

"Old flame?" Jezebel asked, never missing an opportunity to submit Kilian's sexual orientation to the test. But on this one occasion, even Lena held some doubts.

"Considering that you've been with me since I landed in Ostria, if I ever diddled Arcadia's future monarch, you'd know," Kilian leisurely replied. Still, his brows creased at Ayden's move. Never once did it cross Kilian's mind that Arcadia's crown prince was merely making eyes at him. But since he couldn't figure out the why, he didn't dwell on the matter.

Meanwhile, Ayden's departure didn't ease the breaths of the floundering nobility. Music no longer flowed, and wine stood far from the aristocrats' lips. On the scene, even among the imperial dukes, many couldn't digest the fallen three's fate. And who could blame them?

"To behead three low-level Archons in one move, on strength and speed alone, he is a match for mid-level Archons. Although his magical abilities should still stand at the top-level High Emissary rank, his Dra Control has probably reached Archon tier. Strong, very strong—for a High Emissary, that is," Jezebel remarked. And indeed, similar appraisals kept those dukes and even magi whose magical prowesses currently surpassed Ayden's, on tiptoes.

If he already was that strong now, how far could he go in the future? Many couldn't help but see in him a new Klaus. But while the von Skolls delighted in having such a reliable heir apparent, the aristocracy certainly didn't relish in the rise of another invincible monarch.

Only a few remained undisturbed. Kilian, Anke, and other nutcases or individuals whose strength allowed them to maintain their cool. Again, the marble door opened, this time announcing the entrance of four men dressed in platinum-colored robes. Immediately, they snatched all attention.

"Arcanist robes," Kilian noted. Coated in zuri alloy and strengthened by enchantments, arcanist robes not only boosted spell-power, but also enhanced physical abilities. Throughout the Imperial Academy, department chairs and the headmaster aside, none had the right to wear such robes. The newcomers' status was thus evident.

At their helm, a wrinkled old man with shoulder-length grey hair and the amber eyes of the von Skoll stood with an amiable smile. Hanns von Skoll, headmaster of the Imperial Academy, and Niklas' little brother. Though by 40 years Niklas' junior, because human Archons only had 200 years of lifespan, the 120 years old Hanns looked old enough to be the emperor's father.

Ignoring the three corpses and the pool of gore they formed, Hanns walked up the stand, and alongside the three department chairs, turned to face the gathered aristocrats.

"Greetings, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Imperial Academy. Please return to your seats," Amplified by sound magic, Hanns' voice thundered throughout the hall. None dared delay. Per custom, the von Skolls didn't rank on Arcadia's official Archon list. However, that never stopped them from proving their strength. Ranked among the three strongest known Archons of Arcadia, many believed that in a few decades, Hanns would rise to the Exarch rank and leave the headmaster position to another von Skoll Archon.

Once the thousands of guests occupied their respective seats, Hanns nodded in approval, and carried on, "As you know, this banquet is no mere celebration, but testing grounds for who among this years' 3613 applicants will officially join the academy."

The academy's non-refundable 1,000 qraftas tuition fees had no use besides granting access to this banquet. Wealth alone could not open the doors to Arcadia's number one arcane institution. Then again, without the resources of the high nobility, how many could succeed?

"The test is divided into two and is quite straightforward. First, we shall appraise your scientific knowledge, reaction speed, and logic. Those that score less than 85 at any of these problems, can not move on to the next part. Make no mistake, cheating is impossible, and if for any reason you purposely give the wrong answer, we will know," Hanns pursued, and waved his hand, causing a 30 centimeters long piece of sky-blue paper to emerge from a magical circle.

On the paper, all could see esoteric glyphs glittering and intertwining without any clear order. Still, none appeared startled.

"This test paper will fire different questions at your brain, you have five seconds to give a mental answer, after which it will collect the answer and give you the next question. The final question aside, each candidate faces a different set. A total of 100 questions and 500 seconds, do your best." The words had barely left his lips that Hanns snapped his fingers, causing the test paper to fire 3613 sky-blue rays at the applicants' foreheads.

From integrals to thermodynamic equations, Kilian faced dozens of questions that put Klaus' teachings to the test. None required more than one second. In fact, among the learned scions of high nobility, only the logic part proved a true challenge. Kilian's unstoppable winning streak carried on until the 100th question appeared before him.

"What will destroy the Arcadian Empire?" A dangerous question, but if the examiners dared ask it, they weren't looking for blanks. And indeed, unlike the precedent ones, a little note followed this question.

"Here, there is no right or wrong. The answer needs only be logical. However, leaving a blank or illogical answer leads to automatic failure of the entire examination." Faced with a five second timeframe and such a statement, most would instantly blurt out their thoughts. As an institution serving the empire's interests, the Imperial Academy didn't mind using such methods to collect feedback.

"The imperial family's power.

For 3,000 years, the Arcadian Empire dominated this continent. The four tributary kingdoms of Orloth, Sogard, Drucia and Nargoz saw the continued rule of the same dynasties, because the Emperors of Arcadia always guaranteed their crown.

The empire is a castle built on bubbles. So long as house von Skoll's might stands, the Arcadian Empire stands. But at the first sign of weakness, the suppressed aristocracy will gnaw this realm to pieces, and open the door to the three threats' invasion," Kilian mentally replied, and so completed his examination.

The Chiropteran Dynasty, the Wailing Sea, the Undying Horde, those were the three ancestral threats humanity faced since the appearance of magic. Before magic, an impenetrable cloud screen prevented anyone from going beyond Arcadia. Therefore, none knew what lay outside. But following the birth of the magical arts, the screen vanished, enabling those monstrous forces to lay waste on humanity.

Now called the Age of Dark Shadows, the exact events spanned across those centuries and weren't properly documented. However, it all ended with the rise of house von Skoll, and the mysterious retreat of the invading forces.

Although the average answer time rate varied per examinee, the test paper didn't send the following question before the five second deadline ended. Thus, all finished at about the same time. But while some remained confident, the vast majority of the examinees breathed through chattering teeth. Needless to say, those were doomed.

A large blue screen appeared above Hanns, showcasing the results of every single examinee. The ones with a score below 85 had their names crossed by red marks, and the details of their failures sent right back at their brains. 54 names remained, with three holding the first place:

Kilian zu Verden, Anke von Karsten and Carmen von Draken.

"Oh? A 1.5% rate of success? Good seedlings," Hanns remarked with no hint of mockery. Typically, though the students all came heavily prepared, only 1% passed the examination. This year's result spoke for themselves.

Meanwhile, thousands of prospective students and their relatives lowered their heads, sighing at their failure. Still, none dared contradict the academy. As for the 54 successful examinees, they didn't appeared surprised.

"Next, the Dra Root testing."

*Clap* *Clap* *Clap*

Following Hanns' hand claps, an altar rose from the ground, with a ritual circle engraved on its surface.

"We will call you by alphabetical order, and have you place one hand on the altar to access your number of Unlocked Dra Roots and Innate Attributes. While we don't have requirements for attributes, those with less than three roots will still have to return home." Hanns' words triggered no commotion. For the gathered individuals, this part of the testing was nothing more than a formality. All knew how many unlocked roots they currently had, and what attribute they were born with, if any.

Regardless of their race, all souls contained 48 Dra Roots that defined magical talents. But in the vast majority of commoners all 48 Dra Roots remained locked. The number of Unlocked Roots was one of the many requirements to progress on the magical path.

One for a Lesser Emissary, two for a Core Emissary, three for a High Emissary. But while magi could unlock more roots throughout their lives, with a starting point of zero, learning magic was impossible.

At the same time, those with unlocked roots but no Innate Attribute would typically become templars or magi of a unique niche. Still, the latter often couldn't go beyond the High Emissary rank.

"Walther von Baader," a department chair beside Hanns called, and the examinee rose to step toward the altar. Without hesitation, he placed his hand on the ritual circle, triggering a flash of sky-blue light.

A dra-made quill appeared and wrote the words "Walther von Baader, three Unlocked Roots, Fire Attribute" above Walther's head. Unsurprised, he bowed toward the headmaster, and returned to his seat. Thus, students succeeded one another, with only a scarce few showing more than three roots.

"Carmen von Draken, seven Unlocked Roots, Water and Wind Dual Attributes." When this result appeared, for the first time since the Dra Root testing began, thousands stared slack-jawed at the examinee, a mesmerizing young-woman around 18 with back-length, black and silver hair worn in a sleek hairstyle, and wispy bangs that framed her forehead.

But if the hair color looked uncanny enough, her silver eyes spoke of "tasteless" genetic modifications or impure human blood. All those aware of her background leaned on the latter. And unfazed by her results, she returned to her seat.

"Carmen von Draken, daughter of Erik von Draken, the King of Orloth. Her mother is half eldar," Kilian told Lena who failed to grasp the reason for the aristocrats' stupor.

"Granted you have Innate Attributes, with three unlocked roots, becoming a High Emissary is just the starting point. With nine, becoming an Archon is now the starting point. At seven, we can say that within 40 years, she will become an Archon—a rare talent." With Kilian's explanation, Lena finally understood why all appeared so shocked.

Archons formed the highest rank most aristocrats could aspire to. Throughout Arcadia, all looked up to them. The sight of a peer pretty much destined to reach that step left many noble scions short of breath.

But when Anke's turn followed, they almost lost their mind.

"Anke von Karsten, nine Unlocked Roots, Holy, Fire and Lightning Attributes." As expected of an Exarch's grandchild, Anke didn't let down either Klaus or her grandfather's name. And after remembering what houses she hailed from, many felt their stupor subside.

This went on until Kilian's turn arrived.

"Kilian zu Verden."

Without delay, Kilian stood up, but Jezebel's voice came from his right.

"Are you not afraid of creating too great a commotion?" Having personally tested Kilian's roots, Jezebel inquired.

"It's fine, my results cancel out. It won't last," he replied and stepped toward the altar.

Like all the others, Kilian placed his right hand on the altar, triggering the same flash of blue light. The quill appeared and wrote above his head:

"Kilian zu Verden, 36 Unlocked Roots, no attributes."

And so the hall fell to the greatest silence in the history of Dra Root testing, with thousands of popping eye pairs, Hanns' included, staring at the words above Kilian's hair as if the incarnation of nightmares stood before them.