“Every mage possesses a unique space where they can project their will into mana. We call this a mana field.”
“A mana field has an inherently repulsive nature—when two different mana fields make contact, they push against each other. What you all just experienced was exactly that.”
Professor Winslet’s explanation went largely unheard.
Most students were too busy gasping for breath, fighting dizziness, or suppressing nausea to even pay attention.
Only a handful of students remained composed—among the first-years, Shannon Quinlivan was the only one.
“The mana field radiates from the mage’s body, expanding or contracting depending on the situation. Generally, the more accomplished the mage, the larger and stronger their mana field.”
Fwoooosh!
Another wave of mana surged through the hall.
Groans of pain erupted from every corner.
Professor Winslet had said mana fields pushed against one another, but “pushed” was far too mild a word—under his overwhelming prowess, the students’ mana fields were like eggs crushed beneath cushions.
And just as fragile—many students lost their balance as if their shells had shattered.
But for Shannon, this was nothing.
She had been called a prodigy even in Karaf, the motherland of magic, among the greatest of mages.
“Anyone who falls is disqualified. That alone proves you aren’t worthy of my teachings. Walk out on your own two feet; if you can’t, I’ll personally remove you.”
Despite the warning, more students collapsed.
Several were unceremoniously hurled out of the auditorium by Professor Winslet’s telekinesis.
Screams echoed in the distance.
The professor didn’t so much as blink.
“Using telekinesis, ignition, freezing, discharge—mages can manifest countless phenomena through mana. But all of it is limited to your own mana field.”
“In other words, when you face a mage whose mana field completely overwhelms yours, you’re no better than an ordinary person. Can someone who can’t even spark a tiny flame still call themselves a mage?”
“So tell me—how many of you here actually qualify as mages? Who among you has the right to waste my time?”
Shannon glanced around.
Half the hall had already dropped out in less than three minutes.
Against Winter Winslet, their mana fields were nothing but candles caught in a storm.
But Shannon burned like a torch among them all—bright and fierce.
“Stand up.”
The professor’s command signaled that the test’s difficulty was about to increase.
He gave them a brief moment to recover, then casually flicked his arm, as if brushing away cigarette smoke.
But the result was anything but casual.
Crash!
A thousand chairs clattered across the floor, flying in the direction of his hand as though swept away by a tsunami.
Anyone who couldn’t stand before then was automatically disqualified.
More screams as another wave of students was flung outside.
Even while manipulating telekinesis with such precision, the oppressive weight of his mana field never wavered.
Truly worthy of a 7-class mage.
Professor Winslet continued the ordeal—shaking the auditorium as if in an earthquake, shattering windows with concussive blasts, and testing the students’ focus with booming, thunderous shouts.
But the more tests she passed, the faster Shannon’s heart raced.
She had to admit it.
This man’s skill is real.
And she alone could stand before him proudly as a mage.
I’m the only one qualified to pass this test.
That’s what she believed.
Until—
…When does this end?
At some point, Shannon realized something was wrong.
How far is he planning to take this?
The pressure kept ramping up, no sign of moderation.
Even Shannon’s legs began to tremble, sweat dampening her clenched fists.
This wasn’t something Academy students were meant to endure.
She scanned the room.
Over ninety percent of the students were already down.
Only a handful of upperclassmen at the back managed to hold on, and even then barely.
Shannon glared at Professor Winslet.
Does he actually plan to eliminate every single student? Does he even intend to teach anyone?
Just as the thought crossed her mind—
“You’re holding out better than I expected,” the professor said.
Then he stepped down from the platform and began walking toward her.
Shannon’s heart sank.
Why me?!
Mana fields were spherical—the closer to the center, the denser and stronger the output.
Which meant, in the entire auditorium, she—sitting in the very front row—was under the greatest pressure.
When the professor stopped right in front of her, Shannon felt her head drop involuntarily under the weight.
It felt like the gravity had multiplied several times.
She gritted her teeth, trying to hold her ground, but the pressure doubled, then tripled again.
He’s been holding back until now?!
This was insane.
Shannon forced her head up and locked eyes with him.
Cold, merciless eyes.
The kind of gaze that left no doubt—
He’s doing this on purpose. He came here just to make me fail.
Sweat rolled down her forehead.
Her heart screamed from deep inside her chest.
…Bastard! Why only me?!
***
When I saw Shannon Quinlivan’s name on the registration list, I’d had to think long and hard.
What should I do with her?
In the original story, Shannon was obsessed with killing Winter Winslet.
No doubt about it.
During the third-year main storyline of Judgment of Candela, right before the Winter Winslet raid, the Candela Knights had gone to Karaf to request aid from its mages.
But the insular mage society couldn’t care less about hunting down a criminal from another kingdom—even a dangerous one like me. Even Karaf’s highest governing body, the “Third Grand Library,” officially refused.
Shannon Quinlivan was the only mage who joined the Candela Knights anyway.
Why? A personal grudge.
“The only thing I care about is Winter Winslet’s death. I’ll cooperate until I kill him, so don’t bother pretending we’re friends.”
Shannon was crucial to the boss fight.
Not only was she powerful, but every spell in her arsenal countered or sealed my core abilities.
She’d clearly spent years honing her craft specifically to kill Winter Winslet.
Which made her a danger to me.
If things followed the original timeline, in two years she’d grow into one of my most troublesome enemies—second only to the protagonist himself.
If I wanted to nip it in the bud, now was the time.
But…
If I were the type to solve problems like that, I’d have hunted down the protagonist first.
No. I had my own way of dealing with this.
Even if that meant something as pathetic as trash-talking a girl barely out of her teens.
“Is that all you’ve got? So much for not being trash.”
“Don’t… mock me!”
In the original game, Shannon Quinlivan had been cold and disdainful, dismissing anyone weaker than her as worthless.
Recruiting her as a companion required a long, exhausting process—fighting side by side, saving each other’s lives, earning her respect piece by piece.
But I didn’t need that.
I was Winter Winslet.
And the fastest way to earn her respect? A brutal lesson in hierarchy.
“Your file says you’re a 5-class mage. Is this all your ability amounts to? Pathetic—maybe you even cheated your way into the rank. With a family wealthy enough to enroll you in a school that early, I bet your parents just bought off the examiners.”
“How dare you… That’s absurd!”
Of course it was absurd—I knew how strict Karaf’s mage exams were.
But seeing her flushed cheeks and angry glare was worth it.
She was about to protest further, but I increased my mana field’s output another notch.
The crushing pressure forced her mouth shut.
“Glaring at me won’t make you stronger. Better pray I show you mercy.”
Even with all my attempts to break her focus, Shannon maintained the balance of her mana field by a hair’s breadth.
Impressive, really.
To stand against me, throwing out raw S-rank Mana without restraint, took talent far beyond the upperclassmen trembling at the back.
But still—she was fighting me.
Shannon Quinlivin’s genius might grow into a nightmare for Winter Winslet… two years from now.
Right now, she was just a rookie.
The longer we traded force, the more her mana field eroded, piece by piece.
When it had shrunk to barely a handspan thick, I decided to end the test.
Any further would start causing physical damage—time for a doctor’s stop.
I slammed my hand on the desk in front of her.
“Kyaa?!”
Bang!
Her shriek came before the impact.
When I looked up, she was shielding her face with her arms, as if I’d actually hit her.
I hadn’t—but it worked.
That brief distraction shattered her remaining control over her mana field.
Now fully exposed to my pressure, Shannon went pale.
“Remember this. This is your limit right now.”
I lightly pushed her shoulder, and she fell back onto her butt.
At that moment, I withdrew my mana field from the entire auditorium.
“Disqualified, Shannon Quinlivan.”
Her face twisted in anger and humiliation.
Exactly what I wanted.