CHAPTER 65: MANA PURITY TEST [I]

Iron Fang stood tall in the middle of the field, his arms crossed like a stone wall. His eyes looked at us one by one, heavy and sharp, as if he could see straight through our skin.

"You think running shows strength?" His voice was loud and deep. "That was nothing. The real test begins now."

Real test? Wonderful. As if my legs almost falling off wasn’t enough.

He motioned toward a stand at the far end of the yard. A cloth was pulled away, and underneath sat a large crystal orb fixed on a thick iron stand. The orb caught the sunlight and shimmered faintly, like it already knew my secrets and couldn’t wait to show them to everyone.

"This," Iron Fang said, his voice echoing, "is the mana purity crystal. It shows the purity of your mana."

Perfect. A magical truth machine. Just what I needed.

Iron Fang’s boots hit the ground with heavy steps as he walked beside the orb. His tone was calm, but every word struck like a hammer. "Mana is like water. When water is clean, it flows smoothly and strongly. When water is dirty, it slows down, clogs, and weakens. Mana purity decides how clean your mana is."

So basically... if the crystal says my mana is muddy swamp water, I’m finished. Fantastic.

He turned, his hand resting on the orb. "The crystal will show a color. White is purest, the closest to the divine. followed by blue, green, yellow, brown, and black."

"You are not stuck with what you’re born with. Through the Mana Breathing Techniques, you can change. You will draw mana into your body, guide it through your core, and push out the filth.

Inhale, exhale. Slowly. Carefully. With time, the impurities burn away. Purity rises. Capacity grows, and that is discipline and strength."

Oh yes. Breathe in, breathe out, sparkle like a holy candle. Easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one feeling like his lungs were made of gravel.

Iron Fang clenched a fist to his chest, as if sealing his words. "This test will show where you are currently. Follow up one by one and inject your mana into it."

The students shifted nervously. Some looked excited, eager to prove themselves. Others looked pale, as if they wanted to disappear into the grass.

Me? I stared at that crystal like it was a gallows dressed in glitter.

I walked up when my name was called.

The crystal looked even bigger up close. Its smooth surface shone under the sun, quiet, waiting. I raised my hand and touched it, trying not to look like my stomach was twisting.

Alright. Just push mana into it. Easy.

The crystal grew faintly warm under my palm. A dull glow began to form deep inside. For a moment I thought it might turn into something decent. Something that didn’t scream "pathetic."

But then... darkness spread. The glow sank into heavy black, swallowing the light until the whole orb looked like it was drowning in ink.

Silence hit the yard. I could feel every pair of eyes drilling into my back.

It was black, the worst. Lower than dirt itself.

Of course. Of course it had to be me.

Iron Fang’s shadow loomed closer. His face didn’t move much, but his words cut sharp."You..." His eyes narrowed like knives. "You dare carry the name of Black Star, yet your mana is filth? You do not deserve it."

Perfect. Public execution, minus the blade.

I pulled my hand away, forcing a calm face I absolutely didn’t feel. Inside, though, my mind was already spinning. Black wasn’t the end. Not if Mana Breathing worked the way he said. Purity could change. That meant this wasn’t a verdict—it was a starting point. A very, very bad starting point.

I stepped aside as the next names were called, ignoring the whispers.

Then Freya’s turn came.

She walked with her usual cool stride, chin high, not even flinching under the stares. Her hand pressed the orb, and light bloomed at once. First it flickered yellow, then brightened, climbing steadily upward until it settled into a clear green.

Gasps spread through the students like sparks catching dry wood.

Green. That was excellent—almost unheard of at our age.

Freya pulled her hand away and turned, her face calm, though I caught the tiniest curve of pride on her lips.

Wonderful. Me: the swamp. Her: the garden.

Could this day get any better?

Ah, of course it could get better. Nothing like a public humiliation wrapped in a neat comparison chart to make the universe smile.

Freya’s green glow still lingered in my eyes when I stepped back. The whispers grew louder, shifting into that awful mix of awe and judgment. Half of them were busy praising her brilliance, the other half were already chiseling my epitaph.

Black. Filth. Worst possible result.

But here’s the thing—mana purity isn’t a death sentence. Not really.

Iron Fang had said it himself: purity could change. And that was where Mana Breathing

came in.

Everyone in this academy had one. Their families made sure of it. Each kid walked in with some neatly polished breathing technique passed down from their bloodline. A ritual of inhaling and exhaling that shaped their mana, burned away the muck, and refined their core.

The nobles had the elegant ones, techniques written in golden ink on parchment so old it smelled like history. The commoners had the simpler kinds—rougher, but still good enough to climb a rank or two with effort.

But me? I had nothing.

No secret scrolls. No family technique whispered over candlelight. No carefully guarded legacy. Just lungs that felt like gravel and a body that had to guess what to do with every drop of mana.

That’s the part the crystal didn’t show: the methods behind the glow. Everyone here had a torch to guide them. I was standing in the dark, with a box of wet matches.

Black didn’t mean I was broken. It just meant the climb ahead was sharper, steeper, and far less forgiving.

And maybe... that was fine.

Because if I managed to crawl out of that pit, every step upward would be mine. Not a family’s, not a legacy’s. Mine.

At least, that’s what I told myself while pretending not to notice Freya’s green glow still shining in everyone’s memory like a fresh wound.

Green.

Of course it had to be green. Not yellow, not a humble brown. No, Freya had to glow like springtime itself while I sat here stewing in tar.

The difference was so obvious it hurt. Like she’d walked onto the stage in a silk gown and I’d shown up in a potato sack with stains.

The whispers kept flowing, soft but sharp.

"Did you see that?"

"Green... already? Incredible."

"And Loki... black."

Ah, yes. My legacy, sealed forever in two words: and Loki... black.

I forced my face blank, like I couldn’t hear them. On the inside, though? I was already drafting my acceptance speech for "Most Humiliated Student of the Year."