**Chapter 52: The True Trial**
anwhile, at Noren Academy’s teleportation array plaza…
A massive light screen overhead displayed events in the Listone Realm.
Split into multiple feeds, it broadcasted the apprentices’ actions in real ti.
The more attention a feed drew, the larger it appeared.
Around the plaza, a group of dejected wizard apprentices stood.
They looked battered, so still bearing bloodstains, others with traces of severed necks or missing limbs.
Yet, no matter how battered, their bodies were now whole.
These were the unlucky ones “killed” in the native ambushes.
Beyond its apparent function of allowing ntal-activated plane departure, the teleportation ring hid another power: forcibly teleporting the user out at the brink of death, leaving a broken artificial body behind as a decoy.
This was the true power of a high-ranking wizard, an escape ability far beyond the crude spatial lockdown Oswald had cast in the Listone Realm.
The surface-level departure ability was rely another test for the apprentices.
Choosing to retreat in danger preserved their scores, but falling into a desperate situation and triggering the forced escape ant true elimination.
Wizards didn’t scorn failure—every wizard’s learning process was rife with it.
Failure wasn’t shaful if it yielded lessons; even admitting defeat could reflect keen insight.
What wizards truly despised were those lacking self-awareness or unable to read the situation.
The forr might suffer setbacks but could rise with lessons learned, while the latter caused massive losses and hard others’ interests.
Periodically, a flash of light appeared at the plaza’s center, and another unlucky soul materialized.
Initially agitated and wary, they soon recognized the towering plaza structures, the defeated faces of others, and the overhead screen, realizing their fate.
Red-faced, these new “survivors” joined the group of failures.
They knew they’d lost their trial eligibility.
*Buzz…*
With a tremble in the air, another forcibly ejected apprentice appeared.
Quickly grasping the situation, he trudged to the group of failures, panting with lingering fear.
Composing himself, he looked up at the screen.
To his surprise, two feeds dominated.
One, unsurprisingly, showed the bloody valley where apprentices and natives waged a brutal “war.”
The scene was grim, with witchcraft glows and arrow torrents intertwining as apprentices retreated.
But the other dominant feed showed a starkly different scene.
A blackened, desolate land, devoid of fierce combat, with a seemingly ordinary lone apprentice strolling leisurely.
“Who’s this guy? Why’s his feed so big? So high-ranking wizard’s kid getting a special broadcast?” the unlucky apprentice asked a “senior” who’d been there longer.
The senior’s dejected face twisted into a strange expression—a mix of frustration and anticipation, like watching a clueless newcor.
“You’ll see,” the senior rasped aningfully.
Puzzled but curious, the apprentice turned to the lone apprentice’s feed.
Soon, countless black shadows surged onto the desolate land—a hundred-strong, well-equipped native army, likely reinforcents heading to the valley.
Spotting the lone apprentice, they seed surprised but quickly moved to encircle him.
The unlucky apprentice’s heart clenched, fearing for the lone figure.
Such an ambush would challenge even geniuses like Augusta or Horn.
He expected the apprentice to flee or fight desperately, only to be forcibly teleported out.
But what followed left him dumbfounded.
On the screen, the unremarkable apprentice didn’t even pause.
With a casual wave, death descended.
Raging flas engulfed the entire army—no blades, no strategy, just pure, overwhelming power unleashed!
Hundreds of transcendent natives didn’t last an instant, reduced to ashes.
The land beca scorched earth, flas roiling like divine punishnt.
It wasn’t a battle—it was a massacre!
A one-sided, effortless slaughter!
The apprentice stared, mouth agape, speechless.
He hadn’t even seen how the apprentice did it—as if space around him collapsed, spewing hellish flas.
Glancing at the senior’s amused look, he understood the mix of seasoned resignation and shared awe.
“The gap between people is huge, isn’t it?” the senior said, patting his shoulder with a sage-like calm, like a dried-out fish.
The apprentice wanted to ask who this figure was, how he was so powerful, why the natives were like ants before him…
But the shock choked him, leaving him breathless.
Just then, a faint glow flickered, and another battered apprentice was ejected from the Listone Realm, eyes dazed with post-death fear and confusion, mirroring his own reaction.
Seeing the newcor’s puzzled gaze at the screen, the apprentice smiled faintly, sidling up and gently patting their shoulder, just as he’d been treated.
“You’ll see,” he said softly, feeling their wary, questioning stare.
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