The equipment of the other contestants catches my eyes since they’re all rocking as much high-end gear as their body can carry. I then spare a glance at my attire, I’m wearing a regular black leather jacket with a couple of metal sheets riveted over my vitals. Camo pants I grabbed for cheap at the local military surplus store along with black boots from the same store complete the ‘nearly destitute Runner’ outfit. I look out of place, but who cares? If it’s enough for Dungeons then it’s good enough for the Academy. After all, I’m a fervent proponents of the ‘don’t get hit,’ school of thought when it comes to defense.

My inability to afford useful armor is also one of the main reasons to adhere to the idea.

The candidates sporting glowing robes covered in intricate runes must be spell throwers. Mages are a conceited bunch, and a lot of them came here. I can almost feel the incoming headaches when they will all try to one-up another.

But despite their arrogance, I have to admit that their robes are worthy of envy; they cost a ton and have a lot of good enchantments. I narrow my eyes when I identify something strange, the bandoleers some Mages are wearing. Thin, thumb-sized rods of blue metal covered in engravings fill the leather pouches.

My jaw drops; these are One-Time-Use Wands!

One-Time-Use Wands are an expensive and devastating weapon. These Wands contain a high-level incantation that burns out the artifact once the user fires the spell, it’s a versatile tool in good hands. I met a few grizzled veterans during my Dungeon Runs that carried one or two, but never a dozen of them. To be fair, I doubt people that can afford such expensive equipment would set foot in decrepit Dungeons. Let’s not even mention the couple of unregistered Dungeons I stumbled upon when I was younger. They were too small and too young to contain anything precious, but it was a valuable experience.

Still, those unassuming rods are worth at least a thousand dollars apiece. On my end, I almost cried when I bought my two thousand dollars rifle. Meanwhile, these people strut around with more than a minimum wage worker’s yearly salary strapped on their hips. That blatant display of wealth and excess is something I abhor, and it takes a lot of self-control to stifle a massive groan that wants to pop out of my mouth. But I have to get used to it if I’m accepted into this hellhole. It will put my nerves to the test, that’s for sure.

There might be a silver lining since I doubt they would notice if a few Wands vanished without a trace. The fact that they ended up in my hands would be pure coincidence, and I won’t answer any questions without my lawyer present.

My sights now land on the back of a tall man wearing a high-tech exoskeleton. The military shell he’s wearing reminds me of a medieval knight’s armor. The massive blade on his back completes the look. This makes me raise an eyebrow, I will never understand people who still use swords. Their ancestral techniques perfected over countless generations might have been good in the Middle Ages, I get that. But come on, swords aren’t practical these days! They are hard to swing in narrow corridors, and a competent opponent using ranged attacks will walk all over any sword swinger.

I will admit that demonstrations on Youtube of master swordsmen cleaving many cars in half with a single swing are always impressive. But—Well, my experience with killing monsters and chasing away greedy Dungeon Runners imprinted one of the most valuable lessons I ever learned.

Nothing can parry a machine gun.

Now, for the last category of people, the reasonable ones. They are, of course, using firearms laden with enchantments. I click my tongue, they will be difficult opponents. I read on discussion groups that the entrance exam was usually a tournament between the applicants. If that’s true, then I have to pay attention to the guys with guns. Anyone worth their salt, even the most conservative of Mages, will carry a sidearm with them in case something unexpected happens. But people that fight with only long-range weapons, like me, can be a pain in the ass.

At least there’s no one using bows, which lifts a weight off my shoulders. I met an archer once, and he was the most unbearable person I ever met. He kept trying to convince me that bows were superior weapons!

I remember his impromptu lecture on different types of arrows. It lasted two very long hours.

That guy even showed me videos of an enthusiastic German man that wanted to show me the features of a new crossbow!

It doesn’t take long for the other candidates to pop out of thin air in front of their chairs. I frown, is this teleportation? It should be impossible for people to teleport on a whim, but this Academy has some hidden aces. My face hardens at the realization, they have a Mage capable of using teleportation and they use her as a mere receptionist? Or I’m jumping to conclusions, and she’s bending space instead.

Yeah, as if it isn’t as insane as teleportation. If that’s the case, then how strong are the true powerhouses of this rotten institution?

I crack my neck; it doesn’t matter how hard the road ahead will become. I’ll see to it that the ones running this place burn to the ground, no matter who or what gets in my way.

“Everyone, please pay attention!” a deep voice belonging to a smiling man in his fifties booms into my skull. The chatter of the other candidates dies down in the next moment. A massive wave of Mana forces me into my chair as the frail-looking man with thick-rimmed glasses pushes a large cart towards us. I grit my teeth as I reach for my vape, a sputtering engine already becomes audible as my Mana flares up on its own. I’m not the only one in this situation, a couple of others are looking ready to battle. A broad-shouldered warrior covers himself in fire, and a Mage—fuck me, that’s not a Mage. One of the women I pegged as a Mage has an ethereal lion hovering behind her.

I couldn’t hide my displeasure even if I tried. She’s worse than a Mage, she’s a Manifestation User. From what I’ve heard, it’s hard to use. Let’s not even mention the minuscule chance of having one in the first place. According to the Internet, birth decides if an individual has a Manifestation. But the power of a Manifestation, when utilized to its full potential, is beyond devastating.

What worries me isn’t the growling lion fading into the air, but the woman herself.

I thought that archers were intolerable before, but the pompous blond woman with too much makeup screams ‘haughty bitch.’ I should have seen that coming, people with Manifestations always behave like they’re better than everyone else. Considering this is the Academy, then this woman must be from a wealthy family and likely has an ego the size of a football field.

I have to make sure to never interact with her. I know myself and I’m convinced that I would end up punching her in the teeth if she did her arrogant lady act.

Still, I should have expected a Manifestation User. They’re hard to beat, but their overconfidence in their Manifestation is usually their downfall. Well, if the stories of the veterans Runners I know are true. These old coot always like to tell amazing tales for a free drink, so they sometimes embellish the truth in hopes of another beer.

“Oh,” the wrinkly man touches his grayish goatee with a wide smile. “Young ones are always so lively!” his predatory gaze snaps between all whose Mana reacted to his pressure. I shudder when his gray pupils land on me. Everything around me disappears into darkness for the briefest of instants as my heart thumps into my chest. Cold sweat flows down my back while I can’t curb my hands from shaking.

I narrow my eyes, my fight-or-flight instincts are taking over as I reach into my Power. A generator sputters into life as—the world goes back to normal in the next moment, leaving me gasping for breath as the elderly man stops gazing at me. I shudder; he paralyzed me with a single look!

That old bastard isn’t some random clerk. I stop my Mana from flaring up as I inhale vaporized e-liquid. It earns me a few annoyed gazes as the cloud of cherry-scented nicotine washes over other exam takers. I ignore them and focus on the old man, and my intuition proves to be correct. I have been around old Runners for a while now, and I know the subtle signs that make me raise my guard. The way they walk with a hardened gaze. The torrent of Mana roiling inside their body, ready to rush out at a moment’s notice is the sign of true power.

That old bastard isn’t somebody that I can fight. For now, let’s play it safe.

“Calm down, calm down,” he says in his booming voice that somehow echoes into my mind. How does he do that? Is it telepathy? I shake my head, telepathy is impossible. “I’m here to bring you these,” he grabs one of the items from the cart. It’s an oval gem with a faint orange glow embedded into something resembling a safety harness. It’s similar to the ones used in construction work on tall buildings, except this harness isn’t cheap nylon but shimmering blue metal.

If I had to guess, it’s a steel-mithril composite. It cost an arm and a leg, but the alloy is a good compromise between strength and Mana conductivity.

“You will be wearing one of these during your examination. These are barriers meant to protect against deadly attacks, while also warning us if you’re hit by such a blow.” He once again scans the silent crowd, but this time without releasing his Mana pressure. “As most of you know, the entrance exam for this fine Academy is a tournament between all the candidates. The victors will ascend to the next round while the losers will have to leave. There are three rounds, and we announce a winner when one of these,” he taps on the gem of the barrier, “warns us.”

These tiny devices are barriers? The only barrier I ever owned was some old model from the sixties that I bought on Craiglist for two hundred bucks. It looked like a big metal backpack, made a terrible whining sound, and weighed a ton. It was reliable enough, even if I ended up destroying it after using it to cave in the skull of a Naga that cornered me. And now the Academy gives out high-end artifacts that are ten times better than the ones I could afford like it’s nothing. The old man snaps his fingers, and the barriers float on their own before landing in the lap of the candidates.

He can use telekinesis! Experienced telekinesis users are the bane of anyone using firearms. They can stop fired bullets from moving if they react fast enough! At least, Dungeon creatures that use telekinesis are very rare.

I examine my device from all angles. Looking through the minuscule obfuscated runes reveals nothing. I let out a sigh, I can’t parse any of the enchantments. Why did I even try? I was always bad at enchanting. I put on the harness, and the gem goes from orange to green as a transparent bubble forms around me. Damn, my old barrier was like looking through frosted glass while this one is invisible. How expensive is it? Would they notice if I smuggled it back home? I shake my head, that’s not happening since they must have tracking devices built into the harness.

Of course, it would be interesting to look into later. If they don’t have tracking runes on them, then—I grin. My creative ‘borrowing’ skills will come in handy.

The old man announces the next step once everyone puts on their harnesses. “Let’s begin this year’s entrance exam!” I tense as I survey my competition with a critical eye. Most of them look like they’re here to have fun. Yet, a few candidates are the opposite. Their eyes are darting through the crowd, and they exude nervousness. I stifle a chuckle, all these guys lack that special depth. That controlled intensity that formidable people have is something that the unskilled can’t copy. Don’t get me wrong, most of the other guys look strong enough to melt me with a powerful spell. But they don’t have the experience of a proper battlefield.

“Please head to the arena when we call your name,” the tournament overseer explains as he taps on the phone he pulled out of his suit’s breast pocket. “Our first contestant will be Ian Rivers, with a Potential Level of one hundred and fifty. He will face Brian Hawthorn, with a Potential Level of one thousand eight hundred! Candidates, please head to the stage!”

How nice of them to round my Potential Level, as if it wasn’t low enough.

Murmurs explode as the old man reveals my shit-tier Potential Level to the world. I tighten my fists as I do my best to ignore the looks of pity and the sneers, I can see the disdain in the eyes of the other contestants. I crack my neck and take my spot in the arena. It’s their loss for underestimating me.

“Listen, my dude,” Brian looks at me with a fake smile dripping with resentment once we both reach our side of the arena. “I don’t know how you got in there, but you might die if you fight me. You know, I once—”

“Bold fucking words for some dumbass within shooting distance,” I snap back as I inhale some cherry-scented smoke one last time before shoving the vape into my pocket.

“What did you call me? I’ll make you pay! You will grovel under my feet!” the blond man shouts as spittle flies out of his mouth. He covers himself in flames in the next instant while giant fireballs are already hovering above his hands.

I close my eyes and focus. This is it, it’s time to show my resolve to these Academy bastards!

The sound of a diesel generator pushed to its limits echoes as my Power goes into overdrive. My late sister called it Industrial Revolution, and I liked the name. I can visualize machinery in my head, and use those machines to process materials. I can provide real materials, thus increasing the efficiency of the process. Or I can use the Mana construct based on those materials.

The downside of using Mana constructs is the terrible efficiency. The properties of the constructs are worse than the real materials, and they only last a few seconds before draining Mana again. I can’t also mimic Mana-infused materials, despite extensive attempts. Even then, using them within Industrial Revolution lowers the efficiency even more.

Why does my Power makes my Mana sounds like a large generator despite my nature affinity? I don’t know. People with Powers clashing with their affinities aren’t rare. It’s not career-ending, it only means a slight decrease in efficiency regarding Mana consumption. I’m a bit jealous of those who can interact with Mana on its own as most Mages do. Because I have a Power, it makes me a Power User rather than a proper Mage. They’re far more versatile than someone like me who uses Mana through my Power. At least, Mages don’t pack as much of a punch as Power Users so it balances out.

Of course, A Power User can still use spells. However, they would waste a lot more Mana than a regular Mage for the same result.

This Power of mine also upgrades itself by absorbing certain magical items, sadly there are diminishing returns after absorbing one enchantment. For instance, there was a sale on low-tier storage rings once. I bought a few of them to see if Industrial Revolution worked with the artifacts, and it did. So now I have a handy pocket dimension at my disposal, albeit a rather small one. I hope I can upgrade it in the future, but I wouldn’t hold my breath with how costly good storage artifacts are. As for how I found that out, then let’s say that I might have destroyed an expensive graphical calculator by touching it when I was an infant. It made me better at math, so I guess that’s a plus.

One last limitation of Industrial Revolution is that the more complex a process is, the more Mana it uses. Which means I can’t rely on fancy chemistry to spit out world-ending bombs.

But still, Brian will be happy to learn that I got very good at optimizing my Power.