The entrance exam
Darkness had engulfed the world. Cities lay in ruins, overrun by ethereal demonic entities, invisible to ordinary eyes. Only those empowered spiritually could perceive them—and even fewer could stand against them. It was said, “The darkness does not seep from the outside, but from within humanity. Only those with inner sight can confront it.”
At the Exorcism Academy of Shinsai, a massive mountain-top structure loomed beneath stormy skies. Inside, instructors and students gathered in a grand hall, clad in specialized robes. One of the instructors explained that the entrance exam required each applicant to summon a being from the Dark Dimension and demonstrate their ability to subdue or destroy it.
A heavy silence fell as a candidate’s name was called. The doors swung open, revealing a tall boy with neat hair, calm and unassuming. He offered no greeting, no pretense; his eyes were cold and emotionless, precise and detached. “Cody Li-Ven, applying for A-rank assessment,” the announcement declared.
The summoned entity materialized: a grotesque fusion of metal and bone, with rotating blades encircling its body. Its teeth ground against each other, a sound like glass scraping metal. Cody didn’t blink. He withdrew a small vial from his coat, uncapped it, and sprinkled holy water into the air. The droplets hung, suspended. His fingers moved with the precision of a silent symphony, spinning, compressing, and merging the particles until a complete sword of solidified holy water formed—transparent yet denser than any judgment.
Without moving his hand, Cody projected the sword forward. A brilliant blue streak sliced through the space between them. The entity’s head fell like ripe fruit before it could attack. Silence—not applause—filled the hall. He dismissed the sword, the water evaporating. Turning, he walked out.
As he passed, his gaze briefly met Elias, the blindfolded boy floating in the center of the hall. For a heartbeat, Cody’s stare locked onto him, cold and analytical. Elias sensed it, a half-smirk touching his lips, but he did not return the gaze. Nothing was exchanged, yet the air between them seemed charged.
Now it was Elias’s turn. He entered quietly, wearing plain clothes and a red blindfold. His presence was neither imposing nor ridiculous, simply inconsequential. The crowd ignored him, as if he were invisible. Then, without warning, he seated himself cross-legged in mid-air, as if on an unseen chair. Whispers rippled through the hall.
“Who’s this guy? Playing knight?” muttered one boy.
Elias’s voice, soft yet sharp, cut through the murmurs: “Ah… how curious. You’ve grown so accustomed to looking down. Reminds me of compliant particles.”
The summoned entity was a writhing mass of darkness, a shadow with teeth and eyes. Elias exhaled, unconcerned. “All this waiting… for a second-rate cliché? I overestimated this place.”
The creature lunged. Elias smiled pityingly. “Let’s see what we have here…” Its claws struck, but before contact, the surrounding space filled with distorted duplicates of itself—one armless, one cowering, one dead, one exploding.
Raising a single finger, Elias said calmly, “Relax. None of you are real. Only one gets to stay. A lottery, really…”
All the copies vanished except one. The remaining entity detonated instantly. Reality itself seemed to recoil. Elias brushed off his sleeve as if dusting dirt and addressed the instructors: “I expected more from your exam…”
A stunned professor stammered, “Was that… spiritual power? No spirit possesses such—”
Elias smiled faintly, walking away. “No, sir. Just a simple gamble. I always play with hidden cards.”
---
In a dim, isolated lab, the faint tick-tock of a clock echoed. Papers, diagrams, and equations littered the desk, titles like “Observer Effect,” “Unstable Probabilities,” and “Reality is Perspective-Dependent” catching the dim yellow light. Elias, hair disheveled and gaunt, with ink stains marking his lab coat and face, muttered, “If seeing fixes reality… then not seeing might free it!”
He rushed to the chalkboard, scrawling: ∂Reality / ∂Observation ≠ 0. A manic laugh escaped him: “Now I just need to… close my eyes. Permanently!”
Days passed without food, weeks in complete silence, a pitch-black room with only his heartbeat as company. Buckets of failed reports and blood beneath his blindfold marked the grueling ascetic path.
At his breaking point, a voice whispered in his mind: “You’re nothing. A fool playing hide-and-seek with the universe.”
He smiled bitterly. “True. And ‘nothing’… can become everything.” One motion extinguished the last light. Darkness swallowed the room.
Suddenly, a voice echoed through the void: “Elias – Observation Level: ZERO. Denial Level: ABSOLUTE. Access to Inversion Axis: GRANTED.” A droplet of light erupted from his forehead. Eyes closed, the world began to bend. He whispered, “Reality was a suggestion. I… declined it.”
Returning to the present, Elias lay calmly on his dorm bed, blindfold secure. “I don’t see… because I no longer need to.”
---
In the grand hall of the academy, sunlight slanted through high windows, illuminating floating magical diagrams. Professor Alberu, an elderly man with a misty white beard and violet robes, addressed the students: “Today, each of you must summon your first ‘Familiar.’ Some will be amusing, some terrifying. But the bond between you and your Familiar is paramount.”
Students completed their circles, summoning a spectrum of creatures: a glowing two-tailed fox, a stone snail with shimmering eyes, a tiny paper dragon fluttering its wings.
Elias, legs stretched across his desk, arms behind his head, stared blankly at the ceiling. The professor called him.
“Elias. We’re waiting.”
Nearby, Cody muttered, a mix of curiosity and skepticism in his voice: “Maybe he can’t. Or perhaps he simply lacks power…”
Elias turned slowly, locking eyes with Cody. A faint smirk appeared. “There’s a difference between having power and understanding it—a subtle distinction, often lost on the arrogant.”
Cody’s brow furrowed. He summoned his Familiar—a shadowy cat-like creature with piercing blue eyes. At his command, it twisted, growing taller, bone wings bursting from its back, claws extending viciously.
Elias smiled, calmly lifting his leather blindfold to reveal his hidden left eye. It wasn’t a color, not light, but a swirling pattern of probability lines—a compressed galaxy of future paths. He whispered softly, “Come forth… only the possibility I need.”
Nothing flashed. No sound. Only a momentary weight in the air. Instantly, Cody’s monstrous Familiar shrank back, meek and submissive. The class gasped. Cody closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose: “What game are you playing, Elias?”
Elias lowered the blindfold, smiling faintly. “None. I merely activated the one outcome where your Familiar would submit. No magic required. Just… calculation.”
From that moment, Cody’s gaze toward him shifted—no mockery, only cautious respect. He knew Elias operated on an entirely different level.
