However, not all the mages were intimidated by the scene.
Among the crowd were those daring enough to take risks—or perhaps those who had correctly guessed Serie's intent, confidently stepping forward.
Sure enough, as one examinee unleashed his full magical power, the previously impenetrable barrier began to show signs of fluctuation around him.
Emboldened, the mage extended a hand, then stepped through entirely, eventually entering the barrier fully.
"As expected, I was right."
With confidence rising, the mage headed straight toward the grand hall.
Outside the barrier, the other examinees quickly caught on. One after another, they flared with magic, attempting to pass through.
But not everyone could breach this barrier.
Take, for example, the apprentice mages at the very front of the line—so couldn't even get a hand through before being bounced back by the barrier due to unstable magical control; others couldn't even make a dent in it, despite pouring out their full magical strength.
"So that's how Serie is screening the mages..." Gut murmured quietly from the sidelines.
After the mages in front of him had all tried, it was finally Gut's turn.
Unlike the others who blasted out all their power from the start, Gut approached with restraint. Once he sensed that a asured output was enough to pass through, he didn't push further.
Perhaps because his magical level was just barely sufficient, he moved through the barrier more slowly than the others—but that wasn't a problem.
Inside the barrier, only thirteen mages remained ahead of him.
The few mages at the back of the line offered Gut friendly smiles as he joined them, and he responded politely to their goodwill.
Maybe because they had just passed the first stage of screening, everyone seed in good spirits, waiting orderly outside the hall for the mages inside to return from their interviews with Serie.
They didn't have to wait long.
Less than a minute later, the first mage to breach the barrier ca out of the hall wearing a grim expression.
"Did it not go well, Wilt?"
Another mage in the line, apparently familiar with him, asked.
"No."
Wilt's tone was heavy. "That person is... unbelievably harsh."
And with that, Wilt turned and walked back through the barrier without another word.
The hopeful air around the waiting mages grew quiet, their confidence rattled by Wilt's outco.
"Next."
A voice from within the hall—flat and emotionless. Serie's.
The mage who followed Wilt swallowed hard and entered, visibly nervous.
"He's going to fail too," Gut silently analyzed. In the world of magic—defined by imagination—soone so uncertain of themselves was unlikely to pass Serie's test.
Sure enough, his interview ended even faster than Wilt's.
He didn't even make it all the way to Serie's side before the verdict was announced.
"Unqualified. Next."
The examinee tried to say sothing in defense, but under Serie's glance, he trembled and walked out, not responding to anyone's questions.
Watching two consecutive rejections, the third mage in line felt the pressure coiling around him like a snake. Cold sweat trickled down his back.
With such anxiety, even he began to doubt his chances of becoming a disciple of the legendary Serie.
And once doubt crept in, the result was inevitable.
"Unqualified. Next."
...
"Unqualified. Next."
"Unqualified. Leave."
"Hmm… Not bad. ntally steady, but magical capacity is far too weak."
"Provisionally a Third-Class Mage. Next."
...
"Unqualified. You can't even stand under my magical presence?"
"Pathetic. Next."
One after another, Serie rejected candidates rcilessly. Not a single one had t her standard to be considered a First-Class Mage—or a disciple.
Eventually, with all others ahead processed, it was Gut's turn to step inside the hall and face Serie directly.
To say he wasn't nervous would be a lie.
But unlike others who feared rejection, Gut's nervousness was from excitent—he was finally eting the "old mage" Serie. And, perhaps more importantly, he no longer had to hide in the shadows; he was ready for social connection and a new beginning.
Clenching his fists, Gut pushed open the heavy door and entered.
Inside, the oppressive force of Serie's magic surged like a mountain. Gut felt it imdiately.
This wasn't a subjective fear, but an instinctual biological reaction to danger.
Even a magicless commoner would feel this pressure standing beside her.
But Gut wasn't afraid. Step by steady step, he walked toward Serie.
"Oh?"
"A fascinating one at last… Steady resolve, and respectable magical capacity for his age."
"But what's this faint, unsettling sense of danger...?"
Serie's gaze sharpened, her deanor shifting slightly as she inspected the young man.
"I see. So he's not just training in magic, but also undergoing warrior's conditioning."
"Tch. A waste of talent. He should've devoted everything to magic alone."
"Lady Serie."
Standing respectfully, Gut gave a slight nod.
"Wait," Serie suddenly said. That lingering sense of danger—she felt it wasn't just about training.
"When you look at , are you thinking sothing?"
Faced with the "old mage" Serie's question, Gut hesitated briefly—but chose to speak honestly.
"Hmm…"
"I think you're very cute. May I hug you?"
"Eh?"
＜(´⌯̫⌯`)＞
Even soone at the pinnacle of magic like Serie was dumbfounded. Her expression twisted into disbelief.
"I refuse."
"What kind of weirdos are these mages nowadays?"
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