I approach the director's office in a seemingly never-ending corridor, walking briskly abreast with Mason by my side. He strikes up a conversation under my infectious pressure. "Relax, Ernie, you got this. Don't tell me you can't handle an interview when you can go on a rant about your sister in public," he reassured.

I winced at the mention of my sister, but I didn't push the matter any further than that, so as to avoid unnecessary breakdowns. I was still scarred by what prejudices I held against Mason earlier this morning on my tour around camp grounds. Even though he said everything's okay, I still felt uneasy. Things don't get fixed that easily, do they? Despite already calming myself physically and emotionally, I still had lingering thoughts on my mind. This could interfere with my upcoming interview. Who knows? Maybe I'll shout at the director this time around.

"Those two are completely different situations. I wasn't thinking straight just now, as I've said before," I replied in spite of his kind words, lightly punching his left forearm.

"Ah—" he screamed in faked pain, "I think I might just die—" He joked as he clutched his forearm with his other hand and did a fainting motion. I laughed, and he did so a moment later as well.

"Your jokes are terrible."

"I'm trying, you know." I roll my eyes in response and intend to change the topic, but the topic changed me instead.

—At the end of the corridor, stood three people: the receptionist girl which we met not long ago; James Heartwood, looking slightly perturbed; and finally, hiding herself behind the tall man, was his only daughter, Rona Heartwood. My walking speed slowed to a crawl, eventually stopping all movement in my legs as I halted in my steps. The moment I spotted her and our gazes locked, she glared at me antagonistically and then quickly averted her emerald eyes.

"Hello again, Ernie. And Bruggs as well," James greeted us.

"Hi, Mr. Heartwood. And, um" —I turn to look at Rona, who in turn gazes up at me expectantly, to which I gulped quite a large amount of saliva— "R-Rona." She nods, albeit her eyes still having that cold 'you-betrayed-me' glare. I flinched away and decided to not look at her at all.

"Ready for your interview?" James asked. I nod half-heartedly, not entirely paying attention to his words. I was still focused on what Rona said earlier today when she slapped me. She was angry, but she wasn't angry in spite of herself; no, she was angry on behalf of her mother. The same mother who helped me cope with the pains of my past. The same person who was so kind to use her powers in order to help others, and was the same person who had lost an important artifact that caused her unable to live properly due to said powers.

Maybe my gloominess was showing, but James crouched down in front of me and put both his hands on my shoulders. He whispered, "Ernie, I don't know what happened between you and my daughter, but I sincerely hope you two can make up with each other. She was in tears when she ran up to the director's office and claimed that she wanted to leave immediately. That isn't how Rona usually is, and you know that. I don't want to hear what happened — I'll respect your privacy.

"But I just want to say this: bonds can be easily formed with anyone, but it's even easier to break them if you're not careful. Fights and conflicts between friends happen — that's natural — and those hardships are what makes those bonds even tighter. However, a wrong move can cost everything. So, Ernie, be careful with your choices. Rona may sink further down if you don't take action soon, but a rushed one can also cause her to fall equally as low. Can I trust you to return her to her normal self again?"

I took a long time to digest his words. He told me to be careful in my choices, especially ones regarding my bonds. At any rate, I am the person furthest from being an expert when talking about relationships. I didn't have any friends back on Earth, my sister couldn't care less about me, and I was neglected by my own family. I had no experience forming bonds with anyone at all, not until very recently. To see my friendship shatter so easily after a single action... it scares me to think that I could just as easily lose Mason and the Heartwood family, who have aided me in so many ways I couldn't even begin to repay them...

"I'll try my best," I replied in a soft voice.

"Good," James nodded. "That's a starting point. Analyze what's best in each situation and look ahead. If you only focus on the short-term effects, then all I can say is that any relationship you try to rekindle will just as easily fall apart. Look ahead, and learn from your mistakes. Good luck on the interview, Ernie." He patted my shoulders before standing up and addressing Rona. "Let's go. We'll be taking our leave now. Thank you for the help, miss receptionist. And Bruggs as well."

"You can call me Mason, Mr. Heartwood," said Mason. James nodded, then walking away into the corridor with Rona following behind, their figures shrinking as they go. "Ernie, you good?" He continued.

"Could be better," I said, sighing. "I'll get this interview done with as soon as it allows. Wait for me by the porch, will you?"

"Sure. Good luck, mate." Mason left as well, holding up his hand as he walked to signal goodbye. I turn to the receptionist girl whose name I still don't know; she stood there idly as our conversation carried out without disturbing us. She smiled meekly.

"Are you ready for your interview with the camp director?"

I took a deep breath, cleared my mind, and nodded decisively. "Ready as can be."

"Great. You may step inside. I wish you good luck." She bowed, opened the double doors into the director's office, and closed it after I entered.

The director's office is surprisingly comfy — shelves lined the back wall, full of books and files alike, apparently ordered in color rather than alphabetically for visual over practical purposes. In the middle of the room is the dark wooden desk, creased with beautiful patterns and its top covered by a white silk cloth. Behind the paperwork-piled desk sat the director himself.

He looks slim, wearing a cool black tunic under a grey unbuttoned vest. He wore rectangular glasses, which had a dark shading to hide his eyes. His dark gray hair is tidy, combed back with gel to keep it cohesively together, with a short ponytail tied behind. A gentleman-like beard lined his chin and his upper mouth, its color not differing from the hair on his head and eyebrows. My eyes also caught the glint by his earlobes: he had golden circular earrings pierced in both earlobes.

I couldn't take away what type of person he is: his style of clothing clashes with each other; one part of him looks stern and formal, while another laxed and casual. No doubt — however unnatural he may seem — he definitely has the air of a professional adventurer who has experienced and fought in many battles. Despite his slim stature, I wouldn't be surprised if some well-developed muscles are hidden underneath those long sleeves of his. One cool glance from him could easily overpower anyone, and it undoubtedly is working on me.

"Welcome to my office, Mr. Neswitt," he said slowly, in his all-powerful, low and irredeemably deep voice. His hands were clasped together, elbows on the top of the desk for support. "Sit, if you so please."

I obeyed him like a loyal dog, slowly and cautiously grabbing one of the high-back chairs across from him and plop myself down as politely as possible. However, before I sat, I noticed the cushioning on the chair seems unnaturally inflated. I poked the cushion in curiosity and pushed down, to which a farting noise slowly erupted from below. It was utterly awkward from there on.

The director released his clasped hands in defeat and let out an amused sigh. "Looks like my plans have been foiled," he laughed to himself. I was utterly dumbstruck.

"Um... Sir? Is this supposed to be some sort of... prank?" At my question, he only laughed louder.

"Mr Neswitt, my boy. Let me ask you a question. What did you think of me when you first entered my office and saw my face?" He smiled ominously.

It took me a while to answer. "Well... forgive me, sir, but in all honesty, I thought of you as a very serious person, and not one to pull jokes on his students like this..."

"Yes — your original impression of me was along the lines of a stern and strict director, correct?" —I nodded in response— "But what I actually am seems to differ quite a lot, now that you've foiled my attempt to humiliate you, am I correct?" —I nod again.

"You see," he continued, "what I tried to pull on you is a test. A test to see if you are an observant enough person to become an adventurer. And so you have proved yourself," he smiled.

"Pardon me, sir? I'm not sure I'm following..."

He laughed again. "Mr. Neswitt. I have to confess: I actually do this prank to every new registering member of my camp. And get me — it never gets old. Ah, the looks on their faces when they realize what they did. That fear of being possibly scolded and failed for something they did not do — something I made them do, right in front of me — it amuses me how easily I can inject that type of pressure and fear into their mind. And it is all due to one single factor:

"Impressions, Mr. Neswitt, impressions — they matter. Remember what you first thought of me when you entered my office? That I look very serious and formal? Well, that didn't hold to be very true, did it? So, my boy, do you get it now? Impressions matter a lot. They can give you a false image of someone who is very different from what they actually are. This can be used for good and bad. A skill that's very important to have as an adventurer, which can come in handy in so many different situations, yet it is also a skill that could lead to the fall of that very same adventurer.

"And this all leads back to the test I made you — and every other new student — do. You see, if someone acts in a different way to get on your good side, but in reality, they are trying to get an advantage over you. The only way you can outsmart the double-crosser is to be observant. Look at how they act, how they speak, how they move and how they work. See every little detail in whatever a person is trying to do, and you won't have to suffer the consequences of being an idiot. Get me?

"And today, right here and right now, you have proved to me that you are an observant boy. You managed to outsmart me and unearth my prank. And let me tell you: only very few have done so. Most of the people I've pulled this very prank on has fallen into my palms. They did exactly what I told them to do and, in the end, they got humiliated. Only three other people have saw through me. And you, Mr. Neswitt, is the fourth. For that, I say congratulations on passing your first test."

"O-Oh, thank you very much, sir," I stuttered, disbelief oozing out of my soul as I listen to his unexpected life lesson. "Wait, what do you mean by 'first test?' Will there be more?"

"Observant you are, Mr. Neswitt." The director tapped his fingers on his desk. "Now then, shall we continue? You may take your seat. No, no — I haven't put anything else under that chair. It's fine for you to sit down." I carefully sat myself down on the chair, relief flowing all over me as I realize there's nothing more to his pranks.

"I have one other thing to say:" the director continued, "sorry. I have lied to you."

My mouth hung open. "What? Why are you saying sorry?" I covered myself to protect my body from any more schemes he intends to pull on me.

"This isn't actually an interview."

I blinked once. Twice. Thrice and another five more times. "What do you mean?"

"Well, interviews work by one person asking questions for another to answer, right? I'm not doing that here."

"O-Oh. Then, what are we doing?"

"To determine your magical affinity."

"My magical what?"

"Your magical affinity," he chuckled. "Mr. Neswitt, let me teach you a bit of magical theory. You see, magic is split into multiple categories. At the top of the hierarchy, is the purest of all magic: Yin and Yang. This then splits into two types of magic below: Light and Dark, which are less pure. Then, the Light and Dark categories split even further down to form less pure magic: Light splits into Fire and Water; while Dark splits into Air and Earth. These four are also categorized as Elemental magic, which branches off into multiple different types of magic, some even combining their traits with one another.

"So, what you're here for is to determine what category of magic you fall into. The purer the magic, the rarer it is. Now, place your hand on this crystal ball, and we'll know in a snap." The director pulled out a shining crystal ball — similar to the one I used in the Association of Other-Worlders — and placed it square (or circle) on his desk. I placed my hand firmly on the surface of the ball, which was glassy and cold.

Then, a tingly feeling touched my palms, and then a whole shiver went down my spine. Not a moment later, a light erupted from the ball and hung in the air, shining ever brightly in its dark gray hue. It twinkled under the morning sun, which did not in the slightest overpower its shine. Then, slowly, but accelerating rapidly, it rushed into my forehead and disappeared. A warm feeling spread throughout my body, its epicenter at the place where the light smacked me. This is oddly familiar...

"Hm, this seems to be a problem..." the director squinted at me, particularly at my forehead where the light entered my body. "Mr. Neswitt, your magical affinity seems to be a special case."

"'Special case?' Is that something good or bad...?" I was skeptical about being a 'special case,' as things don't usually go well with being that one in a million. Perhaps it could be a miracle as well — I could have innate magical power that is completely overpowered. Who knows?

"Depends on how you interpret this... But first, let me tell you about another branch of magic."

"There's another?"

"Yes, and mind you this branch is equivalent to the purity of the Yin-Yang category. You see, the magic under the Yin-Yang category resembles the spiritual side of things: magic is controlled by spirits, invisible beings residing in another dimension. They cause reactions to happen and make magic possible when mana is fed to them. However, there is another side to things.

"The dimension where laws reside. This plane, as you might have learned in your old world, governs the rules of the universe. Movements of objects, gravity, time, space — you name it. This extra plane of magic isn't actually magic, but we just call it that for convenience's sake. It splits into five different categories: Space, Time, Energy, Gravity, and Vector. They don't split into any other categories, they're just as they are.

"The five Law types I just mentioned works together cohesively, for none of them can work on their own. I won't get into the details of the other four, but what you got an affinity for is Vector magic. The weakest of the five Law types."

"Weakest?" I gasped. To think I got the short end of the stick. Even here in Elhera, life is pulling this type of stuff on me. I guess I just can't escape fate.

"Yes, weakest. However, even if it is the weakest out of the five, it is still a good bit stronger than the lesser Elemental types. Vector magic is, what you'd call, Physics. You control the movements of an object, or, as the magic researchers call it, loci."

"Loci? The plural for locus? Isn't that—"

"Yes," he cut me, "the path of movement of objects. Basically, you have a dumbed-down version of telekinesis. Vector magic controls direction, hence you can only control moving objects. If you try to use Vector magic on an object that is resting, nothing will happen. It dictates the path of movement, not inherently making it move by itself. You'll need an external force to give an object movement before being able to use Vector magic."

"Oh," I said sadly.

"Don't be depressed, Mr. Neswitt. All the five types of Law magic are incredibly flexible. You'll see that the line that separates one category from another is very blurry. I'm not an expert on this type of stuff, since you're one of the only two students I've ever had have an affinity for the Law types."

"And the other being...?"

"She has long graduated from this camp, who coincidentally is also the first one to see through my tricks." He pointed at the cushion I was sitting on.

"Incredible..."

"Oh, yes she was." The director nodded in agreement. "One of the brightest students I've had. You might've heard of her — Yansir Aizenhowart, the Sovereign of Space and the Spacetime Sorceress. She can control the fabric of space, you see. That girl found a use in her unseen magic, Space magic, which hasn't been sighted since centuries ago. 'Incredible' doesn't even begin to describe her feats..."

I was in awe. To think such a person existed, who built her own empire with an incredibly rare type of magic that no one else knows how to control... For once, I was impressed. After years of hearing about my sister's 'great' achievements, things have become... less of a feat for me. A teenager has invented a new helpful machine? My sister's probably done one better... A new rising athlete that shows incredible promise? My sister has been representing the country since she was thirteen... (the same year when she came to this world)

Hearing someone else going on about a person other than my sister... it was refreshing. It felt like I could be the one to talk all day about this 'Spacetime Sorceress.' Which reminds me...

"Sir—"

"You may call me Director Elshire."

"Director Elshire, has... has my s-sister been here before?" I stuttered greatly upon saying that. It hurts to even talk about her, but I must learn. For Rona, I must tackle this obstacle with all of my heart and come to terms with it. For Arianna, as she helped me lots in coping with my nightmares. I promise, I mentally thought to myself. I won't let your lessons go to waste, Mrs. Heartwood.

"Your sister? Do you have a sister?" the director scratched his chin as he thought. "...Now that I think about it, there is an adventurer with the surname 'Neswitt.' Eyvonne, if I'm not wrong." —I flinched at hearing her name— "Ah, is she your sister?"

"Y-Yes. Please don't talk about her achievements... I kind of hate that..."

"I see, I see. You have an inferiority complex, I assume? Don't worry — that woman never trained here before, at least not under me. I believe, from some leaked information about her, she trained in the Kholoris Temple on the Kalactis Mountains. Her master, who I only know as Master Veinhar, is an exceptional assassin who has an incredibly obscure history. So, rest assured, lest you want to live whatever trauma you had before, you best not mention her here. The kids love to talk about high-ranking adventurers, and your sister is climbing those ranks."

I nod, with all due respect to Director Elshire. Unlike many other people, he did not go on about my sister's achievements. That may be due to me asking him not to, but that could also be of his own volition. Either way, I won't be hating this prank-loving man any time soon.

"Alright, now that that's out of the way, why not try out your new magic for a bit?" The director suggested.

"Try out? You mean, actually do magic, right here and right now?" My eyes were wide open with anticipation.

"Yes, in my office. Since your affinity is towards Vector magic, you can't really create explosions yet, can you?"

"...Well, yes..." I was trying to decipher what he meant by the emphasis on the word 'yet,' as if there is a way for me to make explosions, in the far future...

"I'll roll this ball" —he lifts up a tennis ball-sized metal ball— "on my table, and you'll have to try and change its direction. Try and visualize the path of the ball — if I roll it from one side of my table to the other, it will go in a straight line, right?"

I nodded, in my mind trying to imagine the ball rolling in a straight line and the path it creates. "Now, imagine an arrow is dictating the path of the ball, like a depression in the ground showing where a river would flow. Visualize a new path, an opening of the river where the water — in this case the ball — will flow to. Overpower the force acting on the ball, and use that force to change its direction. Can you do that?" said Director Elshire.

I nodded slower this time, in my head a flowing river changes its path as a new slope opens up, and the original path being blocked by debris. I then visualized it in the form of a ball, and arrows in front showing where to go. I imagined an arrow forming out of the original path and twisting to the left instead.

"Now, in order to actually do this magic, you'll have to set a target. That's one of the weak points of Law type magic: they require targets to do the job. Without them, you literally cannot do Law type magic. Only if you're experienced enough then maybe you can target the air particles, but we're not here for that. For now, focus your mind on this ball here. Analyze it like it's a work of art, and create a connection between you and the targeted object. Let the mana inside you and in the atmosphere coincide with each other. Create a link with this ball using that concentrated stream of mana."

I focused on the ball as hard as I can, letting this 'mana' flow from my consciousness and out of my body, into the surrounding mana-filled atmosphere and encircling the ball. I felt it: a weak, single stream of mana is constantly flowing to and fro. It was like a sixth sense: I couldn't feel it from any other of my senses. It tingles in my mind, but I can't touch it, I can't see it, I can't hear, or smell, or taste it. I just know it's there.

"Got the link? Now, keep that link connected. I'll roll this ball and you'll try to change its path. Keep in mind that when I roll it, the link may weaken. That's because the state of the ball is being changed; where it was previously stationery, now it's moving in a set direction." The director rolls the ball across the long-side of his desk, the steel ball in turn slowly rolls in a straight line.

I then imagined it: the ball changing its route and rolling to its left instead. I focused long and hard, my brain almost exploding from the effort. Then, it happened. The ball changed its trajectory. In the middle of its journey, the ball, which was moving in a straight line, now turned to the left and rolled off the table. A dull thud came as it hit the floor and rolled away slowly. For a moment, there was silence. Then, I was ecstatic.

"I-I did it! I changed the ball's direction!" I rejoiced, eyes wide and mouth agape.

The director nodded and complimented me with vigor. "Good, good. Now then, you've got the basics of performing magic down. How does that feel?"

"Strenuously great!" I exclaimed.

"For a novice magic user, that might be so. But everything will soon come naturally. Look ahead, Mr. Neswitt — there is a lot more waiting for you."

"Mhm!" I nodded enthusiastically. Look ahead... isn't that what Mr. Heartwood said? Maybe I'm over-examining this... Then again, didn't he say he used to be in this camp? He could've learned that phrase from the director himself...

"Alright, one last thing: your next test." I immediately stopped my inner party. Next test? You've got to be kidding me. "I did mention that the prank was the first test, yes?" The director said.

"Yeah..." I raised my eyebrows in suspicion.

"Surprise, surprise — there is a second! It will take place in the afternoon. I believe Miss Nandisk has mentioned this to you?"

"Miss Nandisk?"

"Have you two not met? I could've sworn she was the one who brought your guardian, James here." Then it clicked. This 'Miss Nandisk' is the unknown receptionist girl! Not so unknown now, is she?

"Oh, her. She never told us her name before."

"Oh well. Miss Nandisk did mention that there will be a small event later on in the afternoon, right?"

"Yeah, she did." I recalled her words earlier today.

"That is the very same as your test. It will be held in the duelling court near the western edge of the grand field."

"Wait... you don't mean—"

"Yes," the director smirked. "It is exactly what I mean. You'll be fighting one of my students. This will determine your eligibility to become a member of this camp."

My stomach sank. I will be fighting? An amateur, against a trained student?! Has the director lost his mind? "D-Director Elshire, you must be joking... How in the world am I, a complete novice at fighting, supposed to win against a student who has trained under you for who knows how long?" I fidgeted in my seat, both in nervousness and excitement.

"Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm not asking you to win. You'll just have to overpower your opponent by any means possible. Pure power and technique aren't the only way to win."

"Okay..." I'm still not completely sure. For one, this could go badly wrong. I may end up not being able to fight ever again. For another, I might just get humiliated in front of many people. But that's not a big problem... "Who am I going against?"

"Well... seeing as you are an other-worlder, it would only be fair to pair you up against a fellow Earthling, eh? You'll be fighting Alessia Hayes, the prodigy of this generation of students. Same age as you as well. I think you'll fair with her quite well."

This... is bad.