Michael felt a mix of pain and dread as the professor gripped his scalp. It was like he was no more than an insignificant ant who could be crushed on a whim. He couldn’t use his minds eye to inspect inside of his body, but he could feel that the professor was probing him with his will. It felt invasive, as if every part of him was exposed for this man to view at his leisure. If the man had any ill intentions, it would be simple for him to enact them. "Oho? Your soul is quite resilient," Professor Stark said, his voice filled with praise. A moment later, Michael fell to the floor, gasping for air. It seemed that the professor had finished with his evaluation and had relinquished his hold on him. "Birthright rings, three orange," "Potential..." he stated, turning to those behind the desk. "Late stage Arcanist mage." Silence gripped the grand hall, almost deafening as the words hung in the air. Shock painted the faces of the three assistants, but it was Charles who seemed the most affected by the news. Arcanist mage? Michael questioned inwardly. Each major realm had a title, to make things easier for mages to categorize their power. Those with orange rings were called Ember mages, red were Crimson mages, Blue were Azure mages and green were Verdant mages. Each tier was given a stage based on how many rings the mage possessed. Early, middle and late-stage, for one, two and three rings respectively. Since those with yellow and white rings weren’t given a mage title, and Michael had never heard of an Arcanist mage before, it could only mean one thing. Does he mean violet mage!? Michael blinked incredulously, just as silent as the others in the hall. "B-But is that even possible professor?" the female assistant dressed in the academie’s uniform stood, her words filled with doubt. "Right... Isn’t the limit for a human soul only three major realms? By that logic he should only be able to ascend to a late stage Verdant mage." The other chimed in. "Though extremely rare, it is not impossible for someone to be born with a unique soul," Professor Stark replied, turning his gaze back to Michael. There was a growing interest in his eyes, a stark difference from before his examination. Thɪs chapter is updated by NovєlFіre.net Michael felt uncomfortable under his gaze, it felt almost like he was a test subject, rather than an actual human being. "Shall I move onto the next test, sir?" he asked, trying to change to change the subject. However, the tall and stoic man continued to stare for some time. "Professor..." Charles prompted. "There’s no need," the tall professor stated, waving his hand. The left-most door adjoining the grand hall flung open, yet the man’s gaze still remained glued to Michael. "T-Thank you professor," he bowed, backing away. It took a monumental effort to go against his instincts and turn his back towards the tall man who seemed more like a predator than a teacher at this point in time. His pace quickened as he rushed for the door, lest the man changed his mind. Michael had been in such a hurry that he did not even acknowledge Charles before leaving the grand hall. The moment he stepped through the threshold of the door, Michael felt his equilibrium become unsettled. It was a familiar feeling, one that he’d now experienced three times since arriving at Arcadia Academy. The surroundings turned dark for a brief moment before he felt the ground solidify beneath his feet. The clamor of kids chattering entered his ears, followed by the light of magically lit lanterns on the walls. Michael looked around, feeling slightly disoriented. He was in a room with a large open space in the middle. The stone walls looked cold, yet the room was surprisingly warm, adorned with various colored banners hanging from the ceiling, each depicting the same emblem. A open grimoire with a violet magic circle surrounding it. At a glance, he knew it to be the emblem of Arcadia. Michael felt a few glares land on him, snapping him out of his reverie. He looked around, seeing some familiar faces, the others who had been examined before him. The curly-haired youth he’d met before entering the academy was pointing at him while whispering to another figure. Braydon Marbury, the son of the rotund Lord Marbury. Michael averted his gaze, looking around the room. At a glance, there looked to be less than a hundred teens chatting amongst each other. Out of the four hundred that had been in the great hall, this was less than thirty percent of the original number. Remembering what the lord Winterborne had said prior to them leaving the estate, his prediction had been quite accurate. This must mean that I’m part of those who had passed, he thought, only now letting out a sigh of relief. He had been truly worried that the orb examination would expose his secrets. But not only had it not, it had also revealed something that even Michael could have never predicted. His soul had the potential to reach the strength of a late-stage Arcanist mage... In fact, the news was so outlandish that he wasn’t sure if it was true. After all, a lifetime of being persecuted and pitied for his terrible potential was not something that he could overcome in a few minutes. But if this were in fact true, he needn’t worry about his limited potential anymore. Suddenly, he remembered the woman whom he was obligated to protect. Michael stood on his tiptoes and scanned the room. Thanks to his height, he was able to pick out her cold blue hair in but a few moments. He fixed up his suit and made his way through the group of chattering teens, intending on meeting with her. That was when he felt someone bump into him with force, pushing him back slightly. "Hmm?" Michael turned, only to see a figure stumbling onto his backside, his face painted with shock. It was the hateful curly-haired teen he’d seen outside some time ago. It was clear that the boy had intended on knocking Michael to the ground, but he had severely underestimated his strength. After all, since Michael looked like a tall and rather skinny aristocrat, one would assume he’d be weak. Unfortunately for the guy, thanks to the constant physical work he’d performed over the past three years, Michael had the definition of a sleeper build.