Registration

The registration hall of the Continental Magic Association headquarters in Oysast was brightly lit and magnificent.

Behind the reception desk stood a female receptionist wearing a standard uniform hat and slightly wide-rimmed glasses. She looked up at the three people in front of her and said in a flat, emotionless tone, "There are 13 days left until this year's First-Class Mage Qualification Examination. Please note that the examination is held every three years. In addition, applicants must possess a Level 5 or higher mage qualification certified by the association."

As soon as she finished speaking, Frieren turned and left without any hesitation, her silver hair drawing a clean arc in the air.

"Fern, it's all yours now."

With lightning speed, Fern grabbed Frieren's sleeve, his movement carrying an unyielding resolve. "Lady Frieren, I can't do this alone."

Frieren didn't turn her head, trying to pull her sleeve back. "You can."

"What if I fail?" Fern didn't let go, his pale purple eyes fixed on her retreating figure. "The Level 1 exam only comes once every three years."

"Then let's hire a ready-made First-Class Mage help us get through," Frieren replied matter-of-factly, continuing to move towards the door. "Or we can take the sea route to the north."

"That will cost a lot of money," Fern's voice was calm, but it hit the nail on the head. "We won't have any extra money to buy desserts."

Frieren stopped in her tracks.

"... Have Lowell go to the academy's treasury and get some..." she muttered softly, her confidence clearly lacking.

"That's academy funds, it can't be misappropriated, Lady Frieren." Fern's tone carried a hint of helplessness, as if to say, "You're just daydreaming again."

Frieren stopped abruptly, her shoulders slumping slightly. Clearly, the possibility of "no dessert" was more daunting than the triennial exam.

"That's true... but I'm not eligible to take the exam right now. Even for the Fifth-Class Mage exam, I have to wait for the designated exam time; I can't just take it whenever I want."

Fern's gaze shifted to Lowell, who stood by, seemingly unconcerned.

Lowell immediately raised his hands in surrender. "Don't look at me. First of all, my participation might attract Serie's personal attack on my capital city. Even if I really wanted to participate, I still don't have the qualifications of a level five or higher mage. I'm just an unemployed bum... Oh, the Dean of the Continental United Academy? That's not a mage qualification either, it's purely an administrative position, cough cough."

Fern sighed softly, his gaze sweeping between the two men. "I didn't expect that you two are both unlicensed mages..."

Frieren seemed stung by the word, protesting softly, "Hey... don't talk like we're unlicensed quacks..." She reluctantly rummaged through her small bag for a moment, pulling out a badge, "This 'Proof of the Holy Staff'... no good, right?"

Fern leaned closer for a look. "So what exactly is this ancient relic...?"

Just then, an elderly man with white hair and beard, who was talking to the receptionist, was about to leave when his gaze inadvertently fell on the badge in Frieren's hand. He stopped in his tracks, a look of surprise flashing across his face, and quickly approached.

"Please wait a moment, sir. May I take a closer look at what you're holding?"

Frieren blinked and handed over the badge.

The elder accepted the badge with both hands, his fingertips gently tracing the patterns on it. "Your words..."

Lowell scratched his head, looking at the old man's profile, and muttered to himself: This guy... I should know him, right? At least I've seen him in the original "plot"? Tsk, to maintain some unknown fun, I temporarily sealed away a lot of related memories, what a hassle...

A few minutes later, the formalities were completed, and the group walked back onto the spacious street outside the association.

Holding her newly issued exam admission ticket, Frieren's face remained expressionless. "I didn't expect I could actually participate."

Fern asked curiously, "So, what exactly is that Proof of the Holy Staff? Is it something powerful?"

"That's how it should have been," Frieren said calmly, seemingly unconcerned. "It was a long time ago, a kind of... proof of strength. Probably not many people know that now."

Lowell explained, "Yes, it's a very ancient certificate, with only a handful of current holders. I know of only three Great Mages: Serie, Minusi, and Frieren, and the monk Kraft also has one. It's a legendary item, quite an antique, like something a top scholar from the Tang Dynasty would use for the imperial examinations."

Fern noticed a faint, almost imperceptible hint of loss in Frieren, perhaps due to the changing times and being forgotten.

She smiled and said, "It's alright, Lady Frieren. Even if many people don't recognize this now, I still know that you are an extremely powerful mage, and Lady Lowell certainly knows that too, right?"

"Of course." Lowell patted Frieren's head.

Frieren's lips curved slightly, her emerald eyes like lake water reflecting the sunlight. "Is that so?"

"Hmm." Fern nodded gently.

The association's affiliated library was tall and quiet, with rows of bookshelves reaching all the way to the dome. Frieren was holding a thick book, "An Analysis of the Evolution and Current Status of the Continental Magic Association's Hierarchical System," and flipping through it.

"Based on what's here and what Lowell said before," Frieren tapped a page with her finger, "Fifth-Class Mage is considered capable of standing on their own. Fern, why did you only take the Third-Class Mage exam before?"

Fern, who was looking at another spellbook, answered without looking up, giving a very practical reason. "Because the exam for Third-Class Mages was the closest at the time."

Frieren continued reading the data, murmuring, "Currently, there are approximately 1,000 registered mages of level five and above. If we include those from levels six to nine, the total might be around 4,000... The Magic Association was established so early, and after so many years of development, the number of high-ranking mages is still quite small." She turned to the next page, "Among them, there are only 61 First-Class Mages. The exam is held every three years, and there are always cases where no one passes, and the casualty rate is not low... It seems quite difficult."

She closed the book, put it back on the shelf, and her gaze drifted away. "The number of mages has decreased significantly compared to before."

Fern looked up. "Were there many magicians before?"

"About a hundred years ago, when the Demon King's Army was at its fiercest," Frieren's voice was soft, tinged with a hazy recollection, "It was common to brush past other mages on the street. But now, only places like Oysast can offer such a sight."

"Well then, let's work hard for the exam in 13 days, Fern."

"First, you must get up on time every day, Lady Frieren," Fern added calmly.

"... oh."

The next thirteen days were spent in a structured preparation period.

Every morning, they would research materials in the library, Frieren would occasionally explain the principles and countermeasures of some unorthodox magic to Fern.

In the afternoon, they would go to the forest on the outskirts of the city for live-fire exercises. Frieren mostly observed and occasionally gave pointers, while Lowell was responsible for being the sparring partner, and also testing some of his so-called "maybe useful or may not be useful" whimsical ideas.

Back at the inn that night, Frieren's sleeping posture remained as unrestrained as ever. She would often roll up all the blankets in the middle of the night, or fall asleep with her legs draped over Fern next to her, using her poor apprentice as a natural heater and pillow. Every time Fern woke her up in the morning, she would mumble sleepily, "Zzz... let me sleep for five more minutes...", and then change her position and continue sleeping.

Fern was like a worried mother, not only having to complete her own studies and training, but also constantly keeping an eye on Frieren's condition, reminding her to get up on time, pay attention to rest, and even eat on time—although Frieren was quite enthusiastic about eating.

Lowell often leaned against the window, gazing at the lights of Oysast outside, lost in thought. Sometimes he would take out his magic book, "Make Pancakes Without Watching," and try his hand at making magical pancakes.

Time flowed smoothly toward the day of the exam amidst the rustling of pages, the hum of magic, and Frieren's soft snores.