Golden Clicker

Stand at the Feet [ I ]

"I've heard that the entrance exam would be difficult, but there's nothing here that can threaten me now," Luke mused confidently as he surveyed the competitors around him. This test would break most normal people, he thought. But in the back of his mind, caution lingered. The unknown can still harm anyone. Best not to get careless, Luke reminded himself.

The afternoon sun bore down on the stone plaza, casting long shadows across the gathering of candidates. Luke had been waiting for hours, still unsure of how they would be graded on the first test. The tension was palpable, with murmurs spreading through the crowd. The Knight Academy had a reputation for harshness, and no one knew exactly what criteria would secure a place.

Suddenly, the sharp voice of an officer pierced through the air. "273!" The officer's shout snapped Luke out of his reverie. It was his number—finally, his turn.

He glanced at the stone plate he held, marked with the same number, and stepped forward. Around him, the faces of the other candidates reflected a mix of exhaustion and dread. Many had already been eliminated, and the original 1,827 hopefuls had dwindled down to a mere 472. The Knight Academy was merciless in its selection.

A short while later, the head instructor, Andrew, appeared on a raised stage, his emerald green hair shimmering under the late afternoon sun. He surveyed the remaining candidates with a keen eye, his posture relaxed but commanding.

"Good, good," Instructor Andrew said with a satisfied smile, his voice loud enough to reach everyone. "This is more than I expected." His approval sent ripples of nervous energy through the crowd.

Luke narrowed his eyes, watching Andrew closely. How would this go? he wondered, trying to anticipate the next stage of the exam. He had been separated from his previous team after the first test, and now, whatever came next would be a challenge. His heart beat a little faster as possibilities churned in his mind.

"The second and final part of the exam," Andrew's voice rang out again, "is an individual spar." The announcement hit like a shockwave.

An individual spar? Luke thought, his brows furrowing. He had expected a mass elimination—something designed to quickly whittle down the candidates to the final fifty. But a one-on-one sparring match? This wasn't what he had anticipated.

As if to confirm his surprise, fifty knights marched into view from the edge of the plaza. They were an imposing sight, each wearing distinct armor with varying colors and styles. They moved in perfect synchronization, stopping in a single line in front of the candidates. The air around them crackled with energy. These were no ordinary knights—they were the seniors of the Knight Academy, veterans who had been handpicked to judge the candidates' worth.

"Meet your challengers," Andrew said, gesturing to the assembled knights. His voice carried a hint of pride. "These are fifty seniors of our Knight Academy. They are trained to be fair and will decide if you pass or not. They do not, I repeat, do not, hold pity for the weak."

Luke's pulse quickened. The challenge was clear: if you weren't strong enough, if you lacked potential, there would be no second chances.

"The rules are simple," Andrew continued. "Your plate number will be called, and you will face one of these seniors. At least impress them and you'll pass. If you're not qualified, you'll fail."

Interesting, Luke thought. For the first stage, they kept the requirements vague. But here, they're being crystal clear. He studied the line of senior knights, each radiating a distinct aura. I doubt there's a single weak person among them.

"Alright, begin!" Andrew's command echoed, and immediately, the tension in the air thickened.

Numbers began to be called. The first was #71. A burly man with a cocky grin stepped forward, his posture relaxed. He approached the first senior, a short girl with vibrant orange hair, her expression calm and unreadable.

Hehe, it's just a little kid, #71 thought smugly. This won't take long.

But in the blink of an eye, he was wrong. In an instant, #71 was upside down, his body flipping through the air as if weightless. The girl hadn't even moved much—just a simple motion, a flick of her wrist, and he was airborne. Before he could process what was happening, he crashed to the ground, unconscious.

The silence that followed was deafening.

"Next!" someone called out. "#55!"

Luke felt a bead of cold sweat trickle down his forehead. His confidence wavered for the first time. He had known the seniors would be strong, but this level of power? It was daunting.

Can I even beat one of them? Luke wondered, his gaze locked on the girl who had effortlessly dispatched #71. Around him, the other candidates watched in stunned silence, no doubt thinking the same thing.

"Stay sharp, Luke, Stay sharp" he muttered under his breath.