Reincarnated as a Genius Mage-Chapter 44: The Coliseum

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(Spade POV)

Who the hell is he?

It’s been a while since a mage joined the mercenary guild. Most mages don’t like tedious work— many of them are nobles. And the others are commoners; loyal to noble households.

It just doesn’t make sense for a third circle mage who’s probably graduated from the academy— if he’s a noble. Or completed his merit; if he’s a commoner, to apply for a license in the mercenary guild.

Worst part is, I don’t even know what the young man looks like.

He wore a black, blank mask that had two eye slits where his fiery red eyes shone from, reminding me of him. And he was donned in a red hooded robe with intricately designed golden veins on them. The quality of the robe..

He reeks of nobility. But.. both the aura he carries. His rigid composure, and those crimson eyes that look like they’ve seen the vicissitudes of life. They don’t belong to a noble brat.

A soft sigh leaves my mouth. "He wasn’t fazed by my presence at all." And slowly— I stand up from my seat, making my way toward my door.

"His file says he’s 25. His body, and stature suggests he’s younger, and his voice carries a youthful flair." I pause, "wait, is he a kid? Hm. No. A kid can’t carry that kind of grace.. or even remain half as composed as he was in my presence. But.. I’d find out during this test.. just how skilled of a flame mage he is. It’s been a while since I flexed my muscles."

And I step out of my office.

Third circle huh.

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(Charles POV)

The place is almost like the training grounds in the Flameworths household. But, it’s smaller. Almost as big as the one in the training center.

This place reminds me of Klaus for some odd reason.

A small, warm smile tugs at my lips.

I wonder how that loud hulk is doing.

The loud clangs of steel clashing on steel echoes through the air.

The receptionist— Mira, left as soon as I settled down on this seat.

I’m seated on a seat at the lowest row of the stadium-like wooden seats of the coliseum.

No one else is seated here. Mira said something about today being a monthly hunting day.

Apparently, that’s why the lobby was filled with so much mercs.

If today wasn’t a hunting day, then the coliseum would have been filled with veteran mercenaries mocking newbie test takers. But no one’s present. They really take their hunting day stuff seriously.

It’s good that no other mercenary is here. It would’ve been quite an ugly sight.. and smell.

The air here is fresh. Oddly fresh— compared to that of the air inside the lobby.

Threads of pure mana float silently through the air. And it’s more vivid than the pure mana floating inside the guild building.

In the sand filled center of the coliseum— a large man with brown hair, no shirt, and is dressed in black leather pants is clashing blades with a lean, orange-haired man.

I squint my eyes— trying to study the orange-haired man more because he seems strong.

But the only thing I can point out is that he’s wearing black rimmed glasses.

And, I know nothing of sword play, so I don’t know who’s winning or losing. I only see two people hitting blades like mad men.

But they both have something in common though. It’s the orb-like balls floating around them— they shimmer without any hue, like pure mana. It’s revolving around around their bodies, just like rings revolve around mages. And the orange-haired one— he has three orbs. And the shirtless one has just one orb.

Hmm. I noticed it earlier, but... It seems people who aren’t mages, and use weapons or something, all have orbs around them. I need to find out more about this.

"That’s the normal Mercenary test; it’s how it’s supposed to be. But you’re a mage, that’s why I’m going to be the one evaluating you." Suddenly, Spade’s deep voice breaks my train of thoughts.

And I turn my neck— fixing my gaze on his face. He stands beside me— one hand resting on the back of my wooden chair. And his gaze is focused at the fighters in the distance.

"Finally." I tell him.

He scoffs, "do you see the one whose shirt is stripped?"

I nod, "of course I see him. I have eyes."

His gaze is still focused on the battle.

"He probably learned a sword art somewhere, mastered it to a particular level, started feeling and cultivating mana, and now he’s applying to become a mercenary. Just to survive." He speaks.

Some of the words you speak are foreign to me Spade. What is mana cultivation? And people that aren’t mages too can feel mana? And sword art?

But, I’ve already decided to learn more about this later. And so I turn my head— my gaze flickering, and resting on the man he’s talking about.

And now that I look at him better, he’s getting pushed back by the orange-haired man who’s supposedly his evaluator.

"He’d probably get an F-rank. But forget about that. What I’m trying to say is that, the world of mercenaries isn’t a playground for nobles. It’s a den of survivals. We’re all like scavengers here." And his gaze falls on me, and as I lock mine with him— my brows furrow.

A small smile stretches on his lips, "if you still choose to become a mercenary after knowing this then.. who am I to stop you? You can go ahead." He shrugs.

And a sigh escapes my lips.

"When are we starting the test, Spade?"

His brows curve up. "You know my name?" He asks.

"You’re popular." and I reply.

He smirks, and nods. "The test starts now."

Immediately— he points his index finger to the direction of the two fighters. And as I trail my gaze to their direction; I see... that the man with no shirt— he’s lying on the ground. His chest rising and falling from heavy breaths, and his sword inches away from him. The tip of the orange-haired evaluator’s sword’s pointing at his throat.

"Nice attempt Ranor! That’s F-rank! Go get your license from the receptionist, and your other mercenary necessities. Welcome to the guild!" The orange haired evaluator yells out to the shirtless man.

Oh? It’s just like Spade said. He did get an F-rank.

The shirtless man’s face is bright. And even though what he got was just an F-rank— a wide smile is present on his bruised face.

My neck turns, my gaze resting on Spade again. And his lips widens, his black eyes squinting. "It’s time... for what you’ve been waiting for. For your test." He says, his small smile never leaving his face.

"That’s what I’ve been waiting to hear." I stand up immediately. Cracking my neck, and rolling my shoulders.

From where he stands, he crouches. The ground beneath his feet cracks slightly, and then he leaps— leaving trails of wind, and green air mana float behind him.

The force of his leap causes the wooden seats to shake.

With my hands— I shield my eyes. And I crouch low into a balanced stance. The loud thuds of my heart gradually rising.

Seriously.. how am I going to fight this guy? Based on the strength of that leap just now, I can assume he’s a strength type? Or speed? Or both like Klaus? How do air mages fight? Do they combat or just throw spells? I’ve only ever fought flame mages, and a small group of bandits.

As he lands on the sand in the middle of the coliseum— dust ripples, and swirls around him.

And with a lazy flick of his fingers— he calls me. Inviting me to a battle that I do not know the outcome of.

Combat first then spells? Or spells then combat? Hmmm.

My heart pounds widely. I don’t know if it’s from excitement, fear or anxiety. But one fact is certain for sure. And that fact is..

This is the rise of the mercenary Blank.

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