Michael burst into the room, panting. The moment he crossed the threshold, he glanced around at the crowd of people his age.
"Hah! Hah! Did I make it?" he thought, catching his breath.
As if on cue, the lights went out, and a commanding voice echoed through the darkened hall.
"Silence, friends. Silence."
A single spotlight flickered on, illuminating the stage. A tall figure stood beneath it—a bald old man with a long, flowing beard, dressed in crimson wizard robes and a matching oversized hat. His presence radiated authority.
"That's better," the old man said with a grin.
Michael blinked. "Huh? The village elder? He's the one conducting the test?"
"Well then," the elder said, clapping his hands. "Everyone's here. That means we can begin."
He raised his voice, speaking with the tone of someone who'd done this many times before.
"Friends! I'll begin with what many of you already know—the three levels of magical power that determine your strength. Level One… Level Two… and Level Three. But that's not all. Beyond levels, there are also ranks. These determine how powerful you are within your level."
He took a dramatic pause.
"For instance, how many first-rank mages with Level One magic does it take to defeat a first-rank mage with Level Three?"
He pointed at the crowd. "Anyone?"
A few murmurs. Someone whispered, "Eight."
"Correct!" the elder exclaimed. "And that's assuming they work together perfectly. But we're not discussing ranks today. That's for another time."
He lifted his staff. "Today, you will each receive a sphere. It will evaluate your current magical power level."
Small glowing orbs floated toward each person, hovering just in front of their chests. One by one, they flashed with a number: 1, 2, or 3.
Some students announced their results aloud, proud or disappointed depending on the outcome.
The old man smirked, folding his arms. "Seems like there's no one this year who can surpass me either."
And then — a blinding flash of light erupted from the far side of the room. Gasps spread like wildfire. Everyone turned to see one sphere pulsing with an unfamiliar energy.
The number on it?
4.
"Huh? Wha—WHAT?!" the elder shouted, eyes wide.
Michael froze. "Why is everyone staring at me…?"
"Uhh… Look at your sphere," a boy nearby said quietly—let's call him Guy 1 for now.
Michael glanced down. His eyes locked on the number.
"…Fourth level of magical power. What's so—wait. WHAT!?"
"You just noticed now?" Guy 1 mumbled, half amused.
The entire room erupted into chaos.
"That's impossible!" someone shouted. "There are only three levels!"
"It must be a malfunction!"
The old man raised his hand. "Calm down, friends! This is not a mistake."
"But the sphere shows four!" someone insisted. "That's… that's unheard of!"
"I thought I said no interruptions," the elder said, still wearing his patient smile.
"Ah—sorry," the same guy muttered and sat down.
The elder cleared his throat. "Let me tell you all… a little story."
The room went quiet.
"Many years ago, when I was young and reckless, I traveled the world. I crossed forests, deserts, snowfields, mountains… Until one day, I discovered an ancient structure—long abandoned. Inside, I found a scroll. One that spoke of something beyond the three levels we know."
The crowd leaned in.
"There exists… a Fourth Level. And those who possess it—" he looked at Michael "—have the potential to reach Rank 200… and earn the Title of God."
Michael's breath caught in his throat.
"A land exists," the elder continued, "reserved only for those who reach Rank 200. No one below that may step foot there. The scroll called it a land beyond mortality."
Michael's mind reeled. "Rank 200… God's Title… A land beyond mortality?"
He swallowed. "Wouldn't it be easier just to call it the Land of Gods…?"
"And those who reach that rank," the elder added, "gain partial immortality."
A long silence.
"…Excuse me," a voice piped up. "What about you? What's your level… and rank?"
The elder stiffened slightly.
"Y-Yes! We want to know!" another guy said eagerly.
"Well," the old man hesitated, "my magical power is Level Three. But as for my rank…"
He scratched his head. "…I forgot. I haven't raised it in a long time."
A heavy silence fell.
Many were stunned—that was the one thing they really wanted to know.
Michael clenched his fists. "Land of Gods… Rank 200… I think I've found my goal."
A guy nearby smiled brightly. "Maybe I've come to the right place."
Another boy leaned back with a smirk. "Interesting. I need to tell him everything,".Let's call him Guy 2.
A third narrowed his eyes, sizing Michael up. "…Looks like I've found my rival. And my blade's next opponent,". That's Guy 3.
A fourth boy's expression twisted into a wide, manic grin."Heh… It's getting good now! I can't wait. Next week—I will fight you. Give me a taste of true battle!". We'll call him Guy 4.