A heavy, somber mood fell over the training ground.
The sight of Yulian, one of the strongest and most vibrant of their class, being carried away unconscious served as a brutal, sobering reminder of the stakes.
The recruits stood in a tense, silent line. The earlier, almost festive atmosphere of the aptitude test was gone, replaced by a cold, professional gravity.
This was not a game. It was a matter of life and death.
After a ten minute delay to let the medics clear the field, Sir Agamor stepped forward.
His expression was grave. He looked at the remaining recruits, his wise, golden eyes filled with a new, serious intensity.
“The tests will continue,” he announced. His voice was a low, steady anchor in their anxiety. He turned his gaze to the next in line.
“Ms. Soo-young. You are next.”
Amy Soo-young stepped forward. Her movements were calm and deliberate.
She was a stark contrast to the raw, explosive energy of Yulian. Where he was a roaring inferno, she was a still, quiet lake.
Her face, framed by bleached blonde hair, was a mask of cool, unreadable detachment.
She walked to the center of the field. Her silver bound grimoire, Lucy, was held loosely in one hand.
She took her place before a fresh, pristine training dummy.
In the viewing stands, the leaders watched with a renewed, critical focus. The mood had shifted from simple assessment to genuine concern.
“This will be an interesting test of her composure,” Anansi said. He had returned to the platform after ensuring Yulian was stable.
“To follow a display of catastrophic failure… it would unnerve even a seasoned mage.”
Freya, however, seemed almost intrigued.
“Good,” she said. Her voice was a low, cold murmur. “Combat is chaos. A true warrior must be able to perform under pressure. To ignore the distractions of fear and failure.
Let us see if she has the fortitude.”
Down on the field, Amy seemed completely unfazed by the preceding events. She showed no fear, no hesitation.
She simply raised her open, empty hand towards the training dummy fifty feet away.
Her expression was a mask of serene, focused concentration.
She spoke her first command. Her voice was quiet, almost bored-sounding, a whisper that was somehow heard by everyone in the silent courtyard.
“LUCY! CRUSH!”
- Spell Tag On Grimoire: Lucy + Crush{으깨다}
- Phonetic: Lucy (Grimoire Name) + eukkaeda (base)
- Korean Base Spell Translation: “Crush”
There was no flash of light, no projectile, no grand, explosive display. There was only a sudden, violent, and utterly silent application of pure, irresistible force.
The air around the training dummy seemed to warp and bend for a fraction of a second.
Then, the dummy simply imploded. It was not flattened; it was crushed from all sides at once.
Its straw stuffed form compacted into a dense, twisted ball of matter no larger than a shoebox.
The effect was so sudden, so silent, and so terrifyingly absolute that it took the audience a moment to process what they had just seen.
The sheer, effortless, and brutal control of the display was, in its own way, even more intimidating than Yulian’s fiery golem.
The silence that followed Amy’s first spell was profound.
The recruits stared at the compressed, misshapen lump of straw and wood that was once a training dummy.
A new, subtle kind of fear dawned in their eyes. Yulian’s power was loud, chaotic, and destructive.
Amy’s power was quiet, precise, and absolute. It was the difference between a sledgehammer and a hydraulic press.
In the viewing stands, the leaders exchanged impressed glances.
“Such control,” Seraphina murmured. Her voice was a mixture of professional admiration and a healer’s innate unease with such a destructive application of power.
“To manipulate a gravitational field with that level of precision… it is remarkable.”
Miguel let out a low, appreciative whistle. “Pheeew! That’s a whole different level of scary. I want her on my team.”
Down on the field, Amy’s expression remained unchanged.
She seemed completely indifferent to the awe and fear she had inspired.
She turned to the line of recruits. Her hazel eyes landed on Akira and Nico.
“I require assistance for my next demonstration,” she said. Her voice was a calm, polite request that sounded more like a command.
Akira let out an annoyed sigh, but he stepped forward. His hand rested on the hilt of his katana.
Nico, looking far more hesitant, followed a moment later.
“You will both attack me,” Amy said. Her tone was flat and absolute. “I want you to try and kill me.”
“Are you sure about that?” Akira asked. A dangerous, mocking glint was in his red eyes. “I am not known for holding back.”
“I am counting on it,” Amy replied. Her voice was a cool, unruffled calm.
She took her place between them. Her grimoire, Lucy, still floated serenely beside her.
Akira and Nico exchanged a look. A silent, almost imperceptible nod of agreement.
They attacked simultaneously. Akira was a blur of motion. His katana was a silver streak aimed at Amy’s throat.
Nico was a wall of force. A powerful, concussive blast of kinetic energy aimed at her center mass.
It was a perfectly executed pincer attack.
An inescapable trap of speed and power.
Amy did not move. She did not flinch. She simply raised a hand and spoke her next command.
Her voice was as calm and steady as a frozen lake.
“LUCY! SHEILD!”
- Spell Tag On Grimoire: Lucy + Shield{나를 둘러싼 뚫을 수 없는 중력장}
- Phonetic: Lucy (Grimoire Name) + naleul dulleossan ttulh-eul su eobsneun junglyeogjang (base)
- Korean Base Spell Translation: “An impenetrable field of gravity that surrounds me”
The air around her shimmered and warped. A perfect, invisible sphere of distorted gravity materialized around her.
It was a shield not of energy or matter, but of pure, bent space. Akira’s blade stopped dead, inches from her throat.
Its momentum was completely and utterly nullified. Nico’s blast of kinetic force hit the shield.
It was not just blocked, but bent. Its energy was redirected harmlessly into the sky.
The two attackers were thrown back. Their own momentum was turned against them.
They stumbled to a halt. Their faces were a mask of pure, unadulterated shock.
Amy stood in the center of her gravitational cocoon, completely untouched.
Her expression was still one of serene, almost bored detachment.
The invisible gravity shield dissolved as quickly as it had appeared. The air around Amy snapped back to normal.
Akira and Nico stared at her. Their minds struggled to comprehend the absolute, effortless nature of her defense.
She hadn’t just blocked them; she had made their attacks irrelevant. She had turned the very laws of physics into her personal fortress.
In the viewing stands, the leaders were murmuring amongst themselves. Their voices were a low, excited buzz.
“Her defensive capabilities are flawless,” Freya stated. Her red eyes were sharp with a new, intense interest.
“She can control the battlefield without taking a single step. An invaluable asset for any team.”
“She is a priority pick.”
Gabriel just watched. A serene, knowing smile was on his angelic face. He was not surprised.
He had seen the quiet, unshakeable discipline in the young woman’s eyes from the very beginning.
He knew that her control over a power as volatile and absolute as gravity was a sign of a mind that was as sharp and unyielding as a diamond.
Down on the field, Amy was not finished. She looked up. Not at the audience, not at her fellow recruits, but at the endless, impossible blue of the sky above.
She took a deep, centering breath. For the first time, a flicker of something; not excitement, not arrogance, but a quiet, profound joy touched her features.
She spoke her final command.
Her voice was a soft, melodic whisper that seemed to be directed at the sky itself.
“LUCY! FLY!”
- Spell Tag On Grimoire: Lucy + Fly{내 몸을 무중력 상태로 만들어주세요 + 내 주변의 중력 흐름을 조작하다 + 跟随我的视线}
- Author Note: Imagine attempt to recite the full spell in brackets during a fight (with perfect pronounciation). This is a perfect example of why Spell Tags are used.
- Phonetic: Lucy (Grimoire Name) + Nae mom-eul mujunglyeog sangtaelo mandeul-eojuseyo (base) + nae jubyeon-ui junglyeog heuleum-eul jojaghada (effect 1) + Gēnsuí wǒ de shìxiàn (effect)
- Korean Base Spell Translation: “Make my body weightless”
- Korean Effect Spell 1 Translation: “Manipulating the flow of gravity around me”
- Chinese Effect Spell 2 Translation: “Be guided by my line of sight”
A soft, silvery light enveloped her. She rose from the ground. Not with a sudden, jerky motion, but with a slow, graceful, and utterly silent ascension. She floated up.
Ten, twenty, fifty feet into the air. Her movements were as fluid and effortless as a swimmer in a calm, clear sea.
She was flying.
The entire audience rose to their feet as one. Their faces were a sea of stunned, upturned masks of pure, unadulterated disbelief.
“SHE’S FLYING!”
Gendric bellowed. His voice was a raw, almost childish roar of pure, unadulterated shock. He was on his feet.
His massive hands gripped the railing in front of him. His usual mask of grizzled, battle hardened cynicism was gone.
It was replaced by the wide-eyed wonder of a boy seeing his first dragon.
Everyone on the platform turned to stare at him. Their expressions were a mixture of amusement and surprise at his completely out-of-character outburst.
Killian leaned over to Gabriel. A lighthearted smile was on his face.
“Feeling a little jealous, Gaberiel? Want to go up there and join her for a few laps?”
Wulan shot Killian a sharp, warning glare.
“Watch yourself, Faust. Do not ever disrespect the Commander.”
Gabriel, however, just laughed. His reaction shocking Wulan. It was a warm, genuine sound that seemed to fill the entire platform. He was the kind of leader that didn’t take anything personally. In fact he welcomed good banter.
“It is quite alright, General,” he said. His golden eyes sparkled with amusement. He looked up at Amy.
She was now soaring in a graceful arc above them. “
And while her control is truly a magnificent thing to behold,” he added. His voice was a low, confident murmur.
“I am much faster than that.”
Amy soared through the air. She was a graceful, black-clad figure against the brilliant blue of the sky.
She performed a series of elegant, intricate maneuvers; loops, turns, and dives. Her control over her own movement was absolute.
She was a master of her own, personal sky. But her demonstration was not just about grace; it was about tactical application.
While still in the air, she spoke a simple, direct spell in English.
“SPEARS OF STONE”
Dozens of simple, unadorned spears of solid, gray stone materialized in the air around her. They hung there as if suspended by invisible threads.
With a single, sharp gesture of her hand, she sends them hurtling towards a fresh training dummy on the far side of the field.
They do not just fall; they are pulled. Accelerated by her gravitational magic into a volley of lethal, silent projectiles.
They strike the dummy with a series of sharp, percussive thuds. They reduce it to a tattered, impaled ruin in a matter of seconds.
The display was a perfect fusion of grace and lethality. A testament to a mind that was both tactically brilliant and ruthlessly efficient.
Her demonstration complete, Amy descends slowly. Her feet touch the ground with a soft, silent grace.
The silvery light around her fades. She gives a slight, almost imperceptible bow to the still stunned audience.
She had not just passed her test; she had established herself as a top tier contender.
A mage of rare and profound power.
In the viewing stands, Miguel lets out a long, slow whistle of pure appreciation.
“Flight. True flight. And the control to use it in combat,” he says. His voice is a low, admiring murmur.
“You don’t see that every day. I GOTTA have her on my team.”
Freya, her red eyes sharp with a new, intense interest, gives a single, decisive nod. “I agree. She’s a natural.”
Carter watches Amy walk back to the line. His mind is still reeling from what he has just witnessed.
Gravity magic… HOW do you even fight that? How do you fight someone who can decide which way you fall?
Amy takes her place in the line.
Her expression is once again a mask of cool, unreadable detachment, as if she has not just defied the fundamental laws of physics.
The chapter ends with Sir Agamor stepping forward. His voice is filled with a new, profound respect as he addresses the next recruit.
“Ms. Baker. You are next.”