I Feel You're Very Cute, Can I Hug You?

However, not every mage was intimidated by this sight.

Among the group, there were those bold enough to take risks, or perhaps they had guessed the purpose behind Lord Serie's actions and stepped forward with confidence.

Sure enough, as one of the participating mages erupted with his full magical power, the previously unbreachable Magic Barrier showed signs of yielding around him.

This mage made a bold attempt, first extending a hand, then his entire body, and finally crossing fully into the barrier.

"Just as I thought, my guess was correct."

The mage who had passed through the barrier gained a surge of confidence and strode straight toward the main hall.

Outside the barrier, the Mage candidates who witnessed this immediately caught on, each erupting with their full magical power to try crossing the barrier themselves.

Yet not every mage could break through this barrier.

Take the Apprentice Mages at the front of the line, for example. Some couldn't even get a hand through before being flung back by the barrier due to unstable magic; others fared even worse, unable to even touch the barrier's wall despite unleashing all their power.

"I see. So this is how Serie filters mages," Guter murmured from the sidelines, observing.

After all the mages ahead of him had tried, it was Guter's turn to step forward.

Unlike the others who immediately unleashed their full power, Guter held back slightly. Once he found that the magic he released was enough to cross the barrier, he stopped outputting more.

Perhaps because his magic barely met the threshold, Guter's crossing was slightly slower than those before him, but it didn't cause any trouble.

Once inside the barrier, only thirteen mages remained ahead of Guter.

A few at the back of the line smiled at Guter as he caught up, and he politely returned the gesture.

Perhaps because they had just passed the first round of screening, the candidates were in relatively good spirits, waiting orderly outside the hall for the mages inside to finish their interviews with Lord Serie.

The wait wasn't long.

In less than a minute, the first mage candidate to break through the barrier walked out of the hall with a grim expression.

"Didn't go well, Wilt?" another mage in the line, apparently an acquaintance, asked.

"Yeah." Though in a bad mood, Wilt still replied, "That lady is unbelievably strict."

With that, Wilt turned and crossed the barrier without looking back.

The previously confident group of candidates fell into a heavy silence after Wilt's poor start.

"Next."

From inside the hall, Serie's emotionless voice rang out. The mage behind Wilt swallowed hard and walked in nervously.

"With that attitude, he's probably doomed too," Guter silently analyzed from the line. After all, magic was a realm of imagination. A mage who couldn't even believe in their own ability to become Serie's disciple—how could they pass her test?

Sure enough, Serie's interview with this one was even shorter than with Wilt.

Before he could even reach Serie's side inside the hall, the result was announced.

"Unqualified. Next."

The second candidate seemed to want to argue, but after a single glance from Serie, he stumbled out of the hall, not even responding to the others' questions.

Watching the first two candidates get eliminated in a row, the third in line felt pressure coiling around him like a python, sweat soaking his back.

Under such tension, he too began to doubt whether he could become a disciple of Lord Serie, a figure who lived in myths.

And once doubt set in, the outcome was predictable.

"Unqualified. Next."

"Unqualified. Next."

"Unqualified. Out."

"Passable. Steady mindset, but your magic reserves are too weak."

"Tentatively rated as Third-class Mage. Next."

"Unqualified. Can't even stand in the presence of my magic?"

"Terrible. Next."

And so, Serie mercilessly eliminated one mage after another, never once rating anyone as a First-class Mage meeting her standards—or, for that matter, as a disciple.

Until all the mages ahead had finished their interviews, and it was Guter's turn to enter the hall and face Serie directly.

To say Guter felt no pressure at that moment would be a lie.

But unlike the other candidates, whose pressure came from doubting whether they could pass, Guter's was more about the excitement of meeting Serie, the Magic Old Timer—or rather, the thrill of no longer having to deliberately avoid crowds, of finally embracing social interaction and a new life.

Clenching his fist, Guter pushed open the wooden door to the hall and stepped inside.

Within the hall, the overwhelming magical pressure radiating from Serie hit Guter like a mountain, an immense weight.

This pressure wasn't something Guter conjured up in his mind; it came from a creature's instinctive sense of danger.

Even if the person standing beside Serie wasn't a mage who could sense magic, but an ordinary civilian with no knowledge of magic at all, they would still feel the same.

However, Guter did not subjectively fear Lord Serie. Instead, he walked steadily toward her, step by step.

"Oh?"

"Finally, an interesting one appears. Firm conviction, and a decent amount of magical power for his age."

"But what is this faint sense of danger?"

Serie's gaze was no longer casual. She grew slightly more serious, looking the young man up and down.

"I see. Besides training as a mage, you've also been honing yourself as a warrior."

"Hmph. A waste of talent. You'd be better off devoting all your energy to magical training."

"Lord Serie."

Before the palace, Guter gave a slight nod toward Serie.

"Wait." Serie suddenly spoke. She felt that faint sense of danger might not be all there was.

"When you look at me, do you have any thoughts?"

Faced with the inquiry of the "Magic Old Timer" Serie, Guter hesitated briefly before voicing his true thoughts.

"Hmm..."

"I find you very adorable. Could I hug you?"

"Eh?"

Even Serie, standing at the pinnacle of mages, was taken aback by Guter's answer, a look of bewilderment crossing her face.

"I refuse."

"What kind of oddballs are mages these days?"

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The Grandmaster's emoji expression seems to warp after input. Damn it.

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