Promotion and Concealment

"All apprentices who completed and passed the talent assessment, proceed to Central Plaza immediately! Major selection is about to begin!"

The cold voice announcement repeated endlessly through the hall, urging the crowd onward.

Benjamin had just come down from the testing area. Before he could sort through his thoughts, the tide of people shoved him toward the exit on the other side of the hall.

He could feel the anxiety and bewilderment hanging over the surrounding apprentices.

Before they had fully processed the emotions brought by their assessment results, they were herded like ducks onto the next stage that would decide their fates.

The exit led directly to the enormous plaza at the heart of the Academy. The moment Benjamin was swept out through the gates with the crowd, the sight before him drew an involuntary gasp from him.

The plaza was larger than he could have imagined, like a miniature city. Its ground, paved in black material that glimmered faintly, stretched to the very edge of sight, reflecting the light cast down from above.

But what truly drew every eye were the enormous spell projections floating above the plaza, each one enough to send adrenaline surging through the veins.

Wizards fought amid flying blood and flesh on alien Plane Battlefields. Powerful spells fell like meteors, every attack accompanied by earth-shaking sound effects and dazzling flashes of light.

Ferocious otherworldly creatures, crumbling ancient ruins, colossal magical constructs streaking through the starry sky... all of it was displayed in the most direct, eye-catching fashion possible.

Beneath the images, lines of enormous runic words flashed with dazzling radiance:

[Glory lies ahead!]

[Boundless wealth!]

[A fast track to promotion!]

[Join the Combat Department and become a Legend!]

Before long, a gigantic wizard phantom condensed amid the light and shadows overhead. His expression was stern and cold, and his voice echoed above the plaza without a trace of emotion, as though coming from some distant starry sky:

"Welcome to Noren Academy. The Academy will provide you with the finest extraordinary knowledge, help you ignite your Spirit Fire, and construct your Ring of Truth."

"But power does not come without a price! Under the principle of equivalent exchange, every apprentice must sign a contract with the Academy. Upon reaching a certain level of strength or studying for a certain period, you will head to other planes connected by the Astral Rail Network to expand territory for the Federation and for the Academy!"

The wizard phantom's gaze swept coldly across the densely packed crowd below, his voice remaining utterly flat.

"Now, you must choose between two major directions—the Combat Department, representing power and conquest! Or the Logistics Department, representing creation and support!"

"You will have one day to choose your major direction. Seize this one and only opportunity. Once chosen, it cannot be changed!"

With that, the wizard phantom dissipated.

A vast magical light screen immediately rose in the center of the plaza, dividing it clearly like a barrier.

Above the light screen were huge labels: [Combat Department] and [Logistics Department].

Below them, smaller light screens marked the specific subdivisions. The Combat Department had schools such as [Soul School], [Evocation School], and [Summoning School].

On the other side were [Alchemy Studies], [Potions Department], [Enchantment Studies], [Construct Studies]...

In several areas closest to the apprentices stood Academy instructors or senior apprentices, working hard to make their final sales pitch.

"Choose the Combat Department! The shortest contract term! The most generous resource allocation! The front lines are the best whetstone, and the fastest springboard to becoming a high-level wizard!" A middle-aged wizard with an excited face shouted in the Combat Department area, his voice carrying an infectious force.

"The Academy will provide you with the finest spell models and the most powerful magical equipment! You may even obtain inheritances from ancient ruins and seize the wealth and glory that belong to you across countless planes!"

The sight left Benjamin somewhat dazed. Holy hell, this is a job fair... Where the fuck have they sent me? Am I back home again?

And beyond those things that gave him such a strong sense of déjà vu, a group of imposing wizards stood upon a temporary stage built from magic at the very front of the Combat Department area.

They wore uniform standard robes and badges belonging to at least Level 1 Formal Wizards. Level 1 Wizards were exceedingly few among them; the overwhelming majority were Level 2 Wizards, and there were even several Level 3 Wizards!

According to the Academy's publicity, these wizards were alumni from the previous batch who had participated in military service—returning wizards who had been "temporarily withdrawn from the front lines to guide the new students."

Some stood ramrod straight, while others chatted casually. Their eyes carried the sharpness and confidence forged on the battlefield, and powerful auras radiated from their bodies.

"Look! That's Instructor Mars, a Level 3 Wizard! He just returned from a mission on the Crimson Flame Plane. They say he slew several powerful fire elemental lords!" An apprentice nearby whispered, his eyes full of yearning and awe.

"And that young one over there—a Formal Wizard who only recently advanced to Level 2! I heard he completed his contract mission after only five years of fighting, then continued tempering himself on the battlefield."

...Tsk. Weren't we all apprentices who only came here for testing today? Why do you guys know so damn much?! Benjamin could not help grumbling inwardly.

Of course, he also understood that genuine country bumpkins like himself were still a minority. Many qualified apprentices were nobles to begin with, and the nobles of this world seemed to all be wizards.

Having been influenced by what they saw and heard since childhood, it was only natural for these apprentices to know some things about the Wizard World.

Benjamin walked to a Combat Department promotional area for the Puppet School. The light screen before him clearly listed the school's contract terms:

After joining the Puppet School, apprentices would have ten years to study. Once they had studied for ten years or reached the level of a Level 1 Formal Wizard, they would be sent to the battlefield.

During that period, all foundational and advanced knowledge related to the Puppet School would be freely available, along with a monthly resource allowance equivalent to 100 points.

Contract holders had to serve on the battlefield for seven full years or obtain Level 2 merit before they could complete their military service...

Benjamin walked through the Combat Department's promotional area, looking over everything along the way. The conditions of the other Combat Department schools were largely similar.

The study period and strength requirements did not change much, and knowledge related to each school was freely available.

The main differences were probably the value of the monthly resource allowance and the duration of military service.

Most offered resources worth between 100 and 150 points every month, while military service ranged from five to fifteen years.

After spending quite some time looking through everything from beginning to end, Benjamin turned toward the other side.

In stark contrast to the bustling clamor of the Combat Department was the relatively sparse flow of people in the Logistics Department area.

The instructors here showed little interest in promotion. Even when someone asked a question, they merely pointed impatiently at the light screens.

Benjamin took a rough look at the contract terms they offered and understood why the Logistics Department was so deserted.

The maximum study period had not changed. Other than that, nearly everything had.

All Logistics Department branches provided only the most basic knowledge. Further advanced knowledge had to be exchanged with points, and each month they only provided basic resources worth a measly 10 points.

And... a military service term so long it was alarming—thirty years!

The conditions proposed by every Logistics Department branch looked as though they had been stamped out of the same mold. Aside from some differences in name, everything else was exactly the same.

"Are you kidding me? A thirty-year contract term?" an apprentice complained under his breath. "That's way too long. The Combat Department's shortest term is only five years!"

Driven by such obvious differences in benefits and the visible "success stories," desire for power and glory gleamed on many faces as people began rapidly flocking toward the Combat Department area.

Those apprentices with high talent were even more strongly courted by Combat Department instructors.

Benjamin's Level 6 talent had also made him a target of the Combat Department instructors' attention. Several instructors' gazes swept over him now and then.

Yet amid this feverish tide, Benjamin seemed completely out of place.

Having experienced an age of information explosion in his previous life, he was not fooled by those dazzling magical projections and glamorous "successes." The tension of possibly becoming an experimental subject at any moment kept him constantly observing, and he soon noticed several strange things.

"There are ninety-seven wizards who returned from the Combat Department in total... Strange. Why that number?" Benjamin frowned deeply.

These wizards who had just returned from the battlefield possessed remarkably distinct temperaments. Moreover, the Combat Department's returning wizards were gathered on the stage right now, displayed like exhibits while Combat Department instructors promoted them.

The Logistics Department on the other side had no especially conspicuous publicity, but its returning wizards were likewise gathered in one place. Whenever they looked toward the stage holding the Combat Department's returning wizards, their eyes occasionally flashed with mockery.

Benjamin suspected these returning wizards had accepted some kind of task requiring them to cooperate with the promotion, which was why they had all gathered together.

So the question was: why were there only ninety-seven people?

Since this was "cooperating with promotion," why had they not rounded the number off—for example... to one hundred?

This was a wizard Academy, one known for rigor and the pursuit of knowledge. In theory, it should not have such a situation where they "couldn't even round up the numbers" in a public setting.

"Two possibilities. In the Wizard World, due to some special wizard rule or numerical symbolism, ninety-seven is indeed a 'round number.' Or..."

As he considered a possibility, Benjamin's expression turned rather ugly. ...They weren't capable of gathering one hundred.

What did it mean to be incapable?

Of course... it meant everyone else was dead!

These ninety-seven people were very likely the only survivors remaining from that batch sent to the battlefield, after layer upon layer of selection and countless bloody battles!