In the training grounds, the four stood lined up and geared.
"As you know, the king purposely recruited you four to be the hope of this kingdom's future," General Philip stated, his hands clasped behind his back. "But first, you'll have to prove yourselves. We can't hand over the kingdom's future to someone incapable."
"What?" The four frowned in unison.
"In other words, you'll now receive your first mission."
Hearing this, their hearts fluttered.
Now we're talking! After gaining new powers, who wouldn't want to test their abilities?
"I've enlisted help from the Metropolitan Police Service to hand us an unsolved crime case for you to resolve."
"What kind of crime is it, General?" Sol raised his hand.
"I'll tell you boys later. But first, we need to evaluate if you're even eligible for the task. Who knows? Maybe one of you has some kind of illness or disability."
The general pointed at the dummies planted on the side. "Let's see if you've grown. Simon! You're up first."
Simon stepped forward with confidence. His once frail body now had noticeable muscle, his biceps proof of months of training. Clad in a black tank top, he looked every bit the warrior.
He gripped his wooden sword and took his stance, but it wasn't a fencing stance. different from when he'd fought the noble. His left arm raised to aim, sword pointed forward, legs split for balance. Then, he closed his eyes, concentrating.
He willed and the blue mana from his primordial core to spread through his body, focusing more on his arms, legs, and feet. Unlike mages, who gathered mana to create and release spells in a certain areas, swordsmen used it to enhance their bodies, making them tougher than any ordinary human.
"Watch and learn, boys. This is the power of a last-stage apprentice swordsman," Simon boasted.
"Last stage? Already?" Josh's jaw dropped.
"That's the growth rate of an S-rank for you," Felix replied. Each swordsman rank—apprentice, intermediate, advanced, and elite—had three stages to pass before advancing.
"What a show-off," Sol muttered. "Just get it over with."
"Alright, alright." Simon leaped forward, closing the distance in an instant, and slashed the dummy in one swift motion.
*Thud.*
The dummy's top half toppled to the ground, hay spilling out as it bounced slightly. The cut was clean—impressive for a wooden sword. But that was mana at work, sharpening the blade.
As expected of an S-rank. General Philip smiled, proud of Simon's progress under his training.
Next was Felix. Though slightly nervous, he executed his move flawlessly. He took a stance similar to Simon's, channeling more mana into his legs and feet, with only a fraction in his arms and sword. Then, he dashed forward—so fast the others barely tracked his movement—and stabbed the dummy straight through the head.
"Damn."
They are good. Too good. Sol and Josh exchanged uneasy glances, hearts pounding.
"Next! Sol," the general called.
Sol stepped forward, fingers twitching. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, then raised his hand toward the third dummy.
Just like Master taught. Don't you fuck this up.
Blue mana surged from his stomach, traveling up his body and into his right arm. He focused, sweat beading on his forehead as the mana pooled in his palm, manifesting into a fireball the size of a tennis ball.
Then—
Release!
*Spew.*
The fireball spiraled toward the dummy… and fizzled on impact, leaving only a charred black mark.
Yeah, I'm screwed. Sol sighed, glancing at the general, who merely scribbled notes without comment.
The other three stifled their laughter.
Finally, it was Josh's turn. He stepped forward, staring blankly at the dummy, already resigned to failure.
I already know my results are going to be crap, well… at least I'm with sol.
With a flick of his wrist, a crescent-shaped air attack shot out, slicing cleanly through the dummy before vanishing without a sound.
The jaws of the three dropped.
What? Josh blinked in disbelief. The dummy lay split in two. He hadn't expected that.
"Nice one!" the others cheered. Josh grinned, though more out of confusion than pride.
"You," Philip called, cutting him off. "You underestimate yourself too much. Knock it off."
"But—"
"Enough. You all passed the ability test. Now, head to the medical ward for a health check. Report back afterward, and I'll brief you on the case."
"W-Wait, I'm in?" Sol stammered.
"Yes. What? you don't want to be?"
"N-no sir! I'll do it!" Sol blurted.
"You have some kind of maxed-out luck stat or what?" Felix teased.
Yes… yes, I do. Sol smirked. "I guess?"
After their medical exams, the four returned to the general's office.
"Here's the mission." Philip slid a folder across his desk.
Felix flipped through the documents while the others leaned in, with a curious gaze.
"A citizen's complaint," Philip explained, spinning lazily in his chair. "Reports say a neighboring building emits strange-smelling smoke at midnight. Police suspect it's methamphetamine."
What?! The group gaped.
Magic which is the most cool thing to exists here, and people still choose to get high?
"Your task is to capture the criminals behind it: Jesseh Rosaman and Walter Blanco, also known as 'Bergheisen.' You'll strike at midnight, so stay sharp."
"Yes, sir!"
Those names sound oddly familiar…
Back at their estate, the four strategized.
Felix pulled a blueprint from the folder and slapped it onto the table.
"Here's the building layout—its a two story building. Any ideas?"
"Based on our evaluation," Sol suggested, "Simon and Felix should take point while Josh and I provide support. We've learned some healing spells from Master, so we can back you up."
"Agreed. Our magic isn't exactly top-tier," Josh added.
The other three exchanged glances before Simon clapped Josh on the shoulder.
"What's your problem, man? You've got this."
"He's been doubting himself a lot lately," Sol remarked.