The chariot ride to the School for Gifted Unicorns is mercifully short, but my discomfort grows with every passing second. When we arrive, the sight of the massive building—its pristine towers, manicured grounds, and polished stone façade—makes my stomach twist. It's exactly the kind of place I've spent my life avoiding.
The guards escort me inside, leading me through halls lined with portraits of unicorns I assume are notable alumni. The air smells faintly of parchment and ink, and the faint hum of magic permeates the atmosphere.
Finally, we reach the examination room. It's massive, closely resembling a courthouse with its raised seating areas, save the large open space at the center. Rows of ponies are already seated above, their curious eyes fixed on me as I enter. A wave of unease washes over me; I hadn't expected an audience.
I scan the room, taking in the elevated seats where a panel of examiners—likely senior mages or professors—sits, their expressions ranging from neutral to vaguely interested.
The judges stand as the many candidates assemble in the center of the arena. A unicorn at the far left, an older mare with a meticulously groomed mane and a no-nonsense expression, steps forward. "I am Ivory Quill," she announces, her tone brisk. "A specialist in theoretical magic. I will be observing your creative application of spells."
The zebra follows, their voice smooth and deliberate. "I am Zuri. I bring the wisdom of enchantments and magical alchemy. Your approach will show not only your strength but also your ingenuity."
The earth pony grunts, standing without much ceremony. "Name's Stonehoof. Rune mage. I'll be keeping the tests grounded—literally."
Then there's her.
She's seated in the center of the panel, a white unicorn with a flowing blonde mane and a sun covered by couds as a cutie mark. To anyone else, she's just another esteemed judge. But I know better. The subtle tilt of her head, the way she holds herself with an air of serene authority, the deep magenta eyes—it's Celestia in disguise. There's no doubt in my mind.
I suppress a grimace.Of course, she couldn't just let me have this one.
The white unicorn steps forward. Her expression is warm, but her eyes hold a calm intensity. "And I am Sunny Smiles," she says in a measured tone that sends a shiver down my spine. "I represent the harmonious application of magic. Remember, composure is as important as strength."
As the judges finish their introductions, Ivory Quill steps forward again. Her horn glows as a series of runes light up in the center of the arena. "Your first challenge will test your ability to adapt under pressure. The objective is simple: survive the turrets and stay within the designated zone for five minutes."
The floor of the arena shifts, stone tiles moving aside to reveal many rune-covered turrets rising from the turrets are simplistic in design, more of a capped tube on a rock. The turrets hum with latent energy, their runes glowing faintly.
I stare at the rune-covered turrets, my mind spinning. I haven't seen anything this advanced since I came to Equestria. Sure, it's a bit primitive—nothing compared to the tech back on Earth—but the fact that I don't know how it works bothers me. The craftsmanship of the runes is precise, each one carved with purpose, glowing faintly with an energy I can't quite place.
How did they even make these? I've been guessing they're stuck in a medieval era, where trial and error is their best method for getting things done. Did somepony just stumble onto the right combination of runes by accident? Or is there a system here, some kind of logic I'm missing?
Ivory Quill continues, her tone brisk. "Each candidate will defend themselves from four turrets. The turrets will activate one by one until all are operational. They each fire one of the main elements. How you survive is up to you. We encourage creativity."
The candidates exchange nervous glances, but I focus on the turrets, my mind already working through possibilities. The vagueness of the task is deliberate—it's an open invitation to show off. My heart pounds, but I force myself to stay calm. I move to my designated spot.
Survive for five minutes. That's it. You've handled worse.
The first turret activates, its runes flaring red. A jet of flame bursts forth, heading straight for me. I react instantly, using telekinesis to form a tight zone of held air in front of myself. I slow the atoms in the path of the flame, creating a buffer zone that absorbs the heat before it can reach me. The flames dance harmlessly against the invisible shield.
The second turret hums to life, its rune glowing blue. A jet of water shoots toward me, but I maintain my focus. I angle the flow around my barrier, channeling it away like a stream diverted by a dam. The water pools harmlessly on the floor.
The air turret is next, glowing white, unleashing a powerful gust aimed directly at me. The force of the wind threatens to throw me off balance, but i extend the zone to surround me further, creating a denser pocket to counteract the pressure. The gusts buffet the barrier, but I hold steady.
Finally, the earth turret activates, glowing a deep brow and launching shards of stone with alarming speed. The projectiles slam into my telekinetic shield, each impact sending a tremor through my magic. My horn aches under the strain, but I grit my teeth and reinforce the compressed air barrier, deflecting the shards.
All four turrets are active now, their attacks relentless. Fire, water, air, and earth assault me, and the strain of maintaining my defenses starts to take its toll. My breath comes in sharp gasps, sweat dripping down my face.
Then I decide to end it.
My horn glows brighter as I focus on the turrets themselves. The runes are the weak point—the source of their power but to me, it does not matter. I isolate the atoms of the nearest turret with my telekinesis, targeting the bonds that hold them together. With a sharp burst of telekinesis, I separate them, splitting the turret cleanly in half.
The turret collapses, its runes flickering out. I repeat the process with the others, each one falling apart under the precision of my magic. The arena falls silent, the glow of the runes fading as the last turret crumbles to the floor. I wait for the clock to run out.
The timer chimes, signaling the end of the test. I exhale shakily, my legs trembling under me.
Ivory Quill speaks first, her sharp voice directed at me with curiosity. "That was… unexpected. And rather efficient in the use of your mana. I hesitate to say I didn't catch when you began casting the spells you showcased. How, exactly, did you manage that?"
I glance at her, my expression carefully neutral. "Will I lose points for not explaining?" I ask, my voice steady despite the exhaustion.
"No," she replies, her curiosity undimmed. "But we would appreciate your insight."
My smile grows like a weed. "It came to me in a dream," I say, waving a hoof dismissively.
Ivory Quill's expression tightens, her patience clearly wearing thin. "A dream?" she echoes, her voice laced with disbelief. "You expect us to believe that such an advanced technique simply… occurred to you in your sleep?"
I shrug, my smirk widening slightly. "Dreams can be powerful," I say with a casual wave of my hoof. "Inspiration can come from the most unexpected places. Or perhaps…" I pause dramatically, letting the moment hang. "Perhaps the stars whispered their secrets to me."
Her ears flick back in irritation, and she takes a step forward. "The stars—"
Stonehoof cuts her off with a snort of laughter. "Many mages are secretive about their methods, Quill. Let it go. The challenge was to survive, and he did that. Creatively, at that."
Ivory Quill turns to glare at him, but Zuri nods in agreement, her golden rings clinking softly as she moves. "Indeed. His method may be unconventional, but it adheres to the spirit of the test. We are here to evaluate results, are we not?"
Quill looks ready to argue, but Celestia—Sunny Smiles—interjects smoothly. "Kinetic Flux's solution demonstrates both ingenuity and precision. While I share Ivory Quill's curiosity, we must respect his choice to remain discreet. Not all knowledge is easily shared."
The disguised alicorn's words carry a weight that silences further debate. Ivory Quill mutters something under her breath but finally steps back, her frustration palpable.
"Very well," she says curtly. "Your solution is… acceptable."
I incline my head, a faint edge of mockery in my tone. "Thank you."
The room remains tense as the judges make their final notes and comments on the other's tests. Some of the other candidates shift nervously on their hooves, clearly rattled by what they just witnessed. The ones who failed are ushered out of the room heads held low, some sobbing. I suppress a sigh of relief, keeping my composure intact.
As I return to the waiting area, the weight of the judges' scrutiny lingers in the air. I know I've drawn attention—not all of it welcome. But for now, I've survived the first challenge.
Ivory Quill steps forward again, her expression calm but stern. "Your next task is simple: reach the other side."
The floor beneath us begins to rumble. I freeze, my ears twitching as the sound grows louder, the vibrations shaking the entire room. The candidates exchange nervous glances, some instinctively lighting their horns.
Without warning, the center of the room splits apart, the tiles dropping away into a seemingly bottomless chasm. The far wall moves farther and farther, until the gap has expanded to what looks like the length of a football field. The air feels charged with magic—spatial magic, no doubt.
Simple. Sure. Because a giant pit of doom screams simplicity.
I glance around, noting the reactions of the other candidates. Some look confident, their horns already glowing as they prepare to teleport. Others look uncertain, their eyes darting between the judges and the distant edge of the chasm.
The judges say nothing more, leaving the candidates to figure out their methods.
I take a deep breath, steadying myself. I glance at the stone floor beneath me, thinking of the plan I've had since I made the 'spell'. It's solid, stable. Perfect for my Lift Disk Spell.
I focus my telekinesis, cutting four circular disks from the stone floor. They hover in the air around me, each one perfectly sized for my hooves. I step onto the disks, balancing carefully as I adjust their positions. With a small push of magic, I glide forward, the disks carrying me across the chasm like a skater on air.
The feeling is smooth, almost effortless. I control the movement with small adjustments to my telekinesis, my horn glowing faintly as the disks respond to my commands. The air rushes past me, and for the first time, I feel… relaxed. This is easy. This is mine.
Around me, the other candidates try their own methods. Most teleport, their horns flaring as they disappear in flashes of light, only to reappear—hopefully—on the other side. But not all of them make it. One unicorn teleports too short, reappearing mid-air and plummeting into the chasm below. Another doesn't reappear at all.
A particularly bold candidate tries an earth based spell, launching themselves with a powerful burst of stone from beneath their hooves. They soar through the air with impressive speed, but their trajectory falls short. They vanish into the pit, their scream echoing faintly before it's swallowed by the void.
I glide smoothly to the far side, stepping off the disks as they fall into the pit below. The other side feels almost too quiet after the chaos of the crossing, but I ignore the uneasy silence and glance back at the chasm. The remaining candidates continue their attempts, each one pushing their magic—and their nerves—to the limit.
One mare with green fur and a brown mane, watching me, hesitates before attempting to imitate my method. Instead of cutting disks from the floor, she gathers large stones with telekinesis, moving them under her hooves. Her movements are unsteady, the uneven surfaces making it hard to balance. But with determination and focus, she manages to make it across, her expression a mix of relief and pride.
As the chaos subsides and the surviving candidates gather on the far side, the mare who imitated my method approaches me. She's breathing heavily, her horn dim but still faintly glowing. Her green coat is matted with sweat, but her expression is one of cautious gratitude.
"Hey," she says, her voice low but clear. "I just wanted to say… thanks. If I hadn't seen your method, I don't think I'd have made it."
I glance at her, momentarily caught off guard. "You did all the work," I reply, shrugging. "I just happened to go first."
She shakes her head, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Don't sell yourself short. That was clever. I was about to teleport, but… it would've drained me completely. I'd have nothing left for the next tests."
I raise an eyebrow, glancing over at the other candidates who had teleported. Sure enough, many of them look worse for wear. Their horns flicker faintly, their eyes tired. Even the ones who arent completely wiped are clearly struggling to recover.
"Teleportation's a brute force solution," I mutter, half to myself. "Burns through your reserves fast."
The mare nods, her gaze following mine. "Yeah. I could've made it, but at what cost?" She looks back at me, her eyes sharp. "Your method's just telekinesis, isn't it?"
I smirk faintly, appreciating her honesty. "What gave it away?"
She chuckles softly. "I might've been a little shaky with it, but it's not hard to figure out once you see it in action. Still, it's smart. Simple, efficient. I'll give you that."
I nod, not sure what to say. It's rare for anyone to acknowledge my approach without trying to pick it apart—or accuse me of hiding something.
"I'm Glimmer Spark, by the way," she says, extending a hoof.
"Kinetic Flux," I reply, shaking her hoof briefly.
She steps back, her expression thoughtful. "Good luck with the next challenge. I'll try not to copy you again."
I watch her as she moves to sit with the other candidates, her confidence visibly bolstered. Despite myself, I feel a flicker of something almost… positive. Maybe it's the novelty of someone recognizing my method without questioning it—or maybe it's the relief of knowing not everypony is out to tear me down.
The remaining candidates—twenty, by my count—stand in uneasy silence as the judges rise once more. The failed examinees from the last test are herded out of the room by a pair of guards, their heads hanging low. It's an uncomfortable sight, a reminder of how quickly this process weeds out the less capable.
The floor rumbles softly as it rises, the chasm disappearing as the tiles lock back into place. Though the arena is now whole again, the elongated dimensions remain, giving the space an almost theatrical feel.
Ivory Quill steps forward, her sharp gaze scanning the candidates. "The next test," she announces, "is one of strength, strategy, and composure under extreme pressure. You will face a summoned opponent—a dragon, constructed entirely from mana."
The room stirs, whispers spreading among the candidates. A dragon? That's not something most unicorns encounter in their lifetimes.
"The dragon," Quill continues, her tone even, "will display all the traits of a real dragon. It will breathe fire, lash out with claws and tail, and defend itself aggressively. Though it cannot truly die, it will respond to damage as though it were flesh and blood."
Stonehoof speaks up next, his gruff voice carrying through the room. "Don't think this thing can't hurt you just 'cause it's made of magic. It'll hit back, and it hits hard. Be smart."
"You will face the dragon alone," Zuri adds, her tone more measured. "One at a time. We will observe how you handle the challenge. Remember, success is not measured solely by victory but by your approach."
"Prepare yourselves," Celestia—still disguised as Sunny Smiles—says, her calm demeanor unchanged. "This will be unlike anything you've faced before."
The candidates shift nervously as the judges confer quietly, their magic weaving together in a display of glowing runes and shimmering light. The runes coalesce in the center of the arena, forming a swirling pool of mana that grows brighter with each passing second.
The first candidate is called forward—a young stallion with a bright blue coat and a nervous flicker in his eyes. He hesitates but steps into the arena, the swirling mana beginning to solidify into a hulking dragon. Its scales shimmer with a ghostly glow, its massive wings spreading as it lets out a deep, rumbling roar.
The fight begins, and it's clear the stallion is overwhelmed. His spells are slow, defensive shields buckling under the dragon's relentless assault. He tries to strike back with bursts of energy, but his attacks barely faze the beast. The fight ends quickly, the dragon pinning him with a claw before dissolving back into mana.
The second candidate, a mare with a fiery orange mane, fares better. She summons barriers and uses relatively fast, precise spells to strike at the dragon's weak points. Her agility keeps her alive longer, but the dragon's sheer size and power eventually overpower her. She's forced to concede the fight after depleting her mana reserves.
As I watch, a pit forms in my stomach. These aren't just tests—they're spectacles. Each fight draws murmurs from the crowd and sharp looks from the judges. The candidates give everything they have, but it's clear this isn't a test many are capable of passing.
"Next," Ivory Quill calls, her gaze falling on me.
I take a deep breath, stepping forward as the swirling mana begins to coalesce again. The dragon takes shape, its gleaming form larger and more imposing than I expected. Its glowing eyes lock onto mine, and it lets out a deafening roar that shakes the very floor.
The dragon towers over me, its shimmering mana scales glinting like shards of molten glass. It snarls, the air rippling with the force of its breath. The arena feels unnervingly quiet except for the low hum of magic emanating from the beast.
I stand my ground, my heart pounding but my mind clear.It's just mana,I remind myself.Nothing more. No guilt. No hesitation.
The dragon lunges, its massive claws slicing through the air. I leap back, narrowly avoiding the attack, and gather a small cloud of chalk particles from my bag, letting them swirl in front of me. My horn flares as I focus, compressing the particles into a dense, compact mass.
Physics doesn't care if the target is flesh, stone, or magic.
I accelerate the particles, pushing them to an absurd velocity. The compacted projectile—barely the size of a pebble—launches toward the dragon's head at a blistering speed. The sound of the release is sharp, almost like a whip crack, as the projectile pierces the air with terrifying force.
The dragon doesn't even have time to react. The chalk bullet tears through its head, punching a clean hole through the glowing mana. Its roar cuts off abruptly, its massive body faltering before collapsing in on itself. The shimmering form dissolves into a cloud of flickering light, then vanishes entirely, leaving only silence in its wake.
The judges exchange glances, their murmurs filling the room. Some look surprised; others, like Ivory Quill, seem downright perplexed. I can feel their eyes on me, scrutinizing every detail of what just happened.
Ivory Quill is the first to speak, stepping forward with a mixture of curiosity and irritation. "That was… unorthodox," she says, her tone clipped. "I've never seen a spell like that before. How did you achieve such speed? Such force? The cast time was almost nothing as well."
I shrug casually. "Will I lose points if I don't explain?"
Her eyes narrow. "No, but—"
"Then it was an interpretation of the wind," I say, cutting her off, my tone as casual as if I were commenting on the weather. "You'd be surprised what you hear when you just... listen."
Ivory Quill's face tightens, a vein practically visible on her temple. "The wind? You expect us to believe that was inspired by the *wind*?"
I keep my expression deliberately neutral, though I'm enjoying the rising frustration in her voice. "Wind can be powerful, focused, and even lethal if you understand it well enough. I just… followed its example."
She opens her mouth to retort, but Stonehoof's rough voice interrupts. "Ain't about the how," he grunts. "It's about the fact that he did it. The dragon's gone, and that's that."
Zuri nods, her calm tone soothing in contrast. "It is rare for a candidate to end the challenge in such a decisive manner. It warrants observation, no matter the explanation."
Ivory Quill exhales sharply, clearly unsatisfied but unwilling to argue further. "Fine," she says tersely. "Let's move on."
The next candidates step forward one by one, their approaches varying widely. Most put up impressive fights, demonstrating skill and ingenuity, but the dragons prove too much for them in the end. Several contenders sustain injuries—minor burns, scrapes, or magical backlash from failed spells. A few are carried off by medics.
I watch with interest as Glimmer Spark is called up. She steps into the arena, her stance firm and her horn glowing faintly. There's a determination in her eyes that's hard not to respect. The dragon materializes again, roaring as it looms over her.
Glimmer Spark moves quickly, casting while moving, she summons barriers of stone to deflect its attacks. She strikes back with precise blasts of magic, aiming for the joints and perceived weak points in the dragon's shimmering form. For a moment, it looks like she might gain the upper hoof. But the dragon counters with a sweep of its tail, shattering her defenses and sending her sprawling.
She grits her teeth, rising shakily and continuing to fight. Her magic falters under the relentless assault, her barriers cracking and her attacks losing their edge. Finally, a claw swipes toward her, and she's forced to concede, the dragon's claw stopping inches from her face.
As she limps back to the lineup, her expression a mix of exhaustion and disappointment, I offer her a small nod. She fought valiantly, even if the odds were stacked against her.
By the end of the test, no one else managed to kill their dragon. The judges stand once more, their expressions ranging from impressed to unreadable. Ivory Quill steps forward, her voice sharp but measured.
"This test was designed to challenge you beyond your limits," she announces. "It was not expected—nor required—for any of you to succeed in defeating the dragon."
Her gaze flicks briefly to me, and I feel the weight of her curiosity. "Your performance was judged on your strategy, resourcefulness, and composure under pressure. Completion was never the objective."
The room falls silent as the remaining candidates exchange uneasy glances. The implications are clear: we were set up to fail. But I didn't.
Zuri steps forward, her tone calm and authoritative. "You have shown us your strengths and weaknesses. The examination will continue, but for now, take this time to rest and recover."
As the candidates disperse, I can feel the weight of their gazes on me. Some are impressed, others wary. I catch Glimmer Spark's eye as she walks past, her expression pensive. For now, I've set myself apart—but not without consequence.
The room is quiet as we return to the arena, the tension heavier than before. The remaining candidates, myself included, look noticeably more focused—or perhaps just more cautious. The earlier challenges have taken their toll.
Ivory Quill steps forward, her sharp gaze scanning the group. "The next challenge," she begins, her voice carrying an edge of anticipation, "is to create a legacy."
The candidates exchange confused glances, and even I can't help but arch an eyebrow. Create a legacy? What kind of vague bullshit is that?
Quill continues, her tone brisk. "Your task is to design and create an enduring artifact or effect—something that serves the kingdom or advances magical understanding. You will be provided with materials and a three-hour time limit. Use them wisely."
Stonehoof chimes in, his gruff voice cutting through the air. "The goal ain't just to make something fancy. It's gotta mean somethin'. Somethin' that lasts."
Zuri nods, her expression calm. "The artifact or effect must reflect your understanding of magical principles and your ability to apply them creatively. Show us what you are capable of."
Sunny waves her horn, and tables filled with various materials appear at the edges of the room—crystals, enchanted metals, rare herbs, and other magical components. My lips curl into a slight sneer as I glance around. This is tailor-made for me, isn't it?
I glance at the other candidates, noting the way they huddle over the materials, clearly brainstorming. Some are already sketching out ideas or assembling components, their horns glowing faintly.
But me? I'm not about to show all my cards. Not here. Not now.
I scan the materials, intentionally avoiding anything too elaborate. I don't need something flashy or groundbreaking. I just need something… functional. My gaze lands on a small, dull loop of iron, weighing around a pound, among the enchanted metals, and an idea sparks in my mind.
A magnet. Simple, practical, effective.
Using telekinesis, I pick up the iron ring and position it on the table. I focus, manipulating the electrons within the material, using a steady flow of magic to move them in a loop through the iron. The movement induces a current, and, following Ampere's Law, the current generates a magnetic field.
The iron begins to hum faintly, the effect invisible but unmistakable to my senses. I test it by bringing a smaller piece of metal near it. The two snap together with a satisfying click.
Perfect.
I glance around, noting how some of the other candidates are pouring their energy into elaborate, glowing constructs or inscribing runes with painstaking precision. By comparison, my little magnet looks… underwhelming. But I don't care. It works.
I step back from the table, my small, humming magnet resting inconspicuously amid the more ostentatious creations around the room. As I glance around, the contrast is almost laughable.
One unicorn has created an enchanted crystal that emits a soothing light, supposedly designed to calm distressed minds. Another has etched intricate runes into a steel plate, claiming it will absorb and reflect offensive spells. Glimmer Spark, as bold as ever, is crafting what appears to be a barrier of some sort. The way some of the legacies spark and sputter leaves me weary of their effectiveness.
When the time runs out, the judges signal the end of the challenge. One by one, the candidates present their artifacts, each explanation met with murmurs of approval at a working device or disapproval of a failed creation.
Finally, it's my turn.
I levitate the magnet onto the table in front of the judges, its simplicity earning more than a few raised eyebrows.
"And what, exactly, is this?" Ivory Quill asks, her tone sharp with skepticism.
"It's a magnet," I reply plainly, holding the smaller piece of metal up to demonstrate. The faint click as the metal snaps to the magnet echoes in the quiet room. "It attracts metal."
The judges exchange glances. Even Celestia, disguised as Sunny Smiles, tilts her head slightly, her expression calm but curious.
"And what purpose does this serve?" Zuri asks, her tone more measured. "How does it advance magical understanding?"
I shrug. "It's practical. You can use it to pick up metal objects, sort materials, or even hold things in place."
Stonehoof leans forward, squinting at the magnet. "Ah've seen somethin' like that before," he mutters. "What's the enchantment?"
"There isn't one," I reply casually. "It's not enchanted. It's just… a property of the material, enhanced through manipulation."
Ivory Quill narrows her eyes, clearly dissatisfied. "How did you achieve this effect? This is not a known spell or rune."
I smirk faintly, savoring her irritation. "Will I lose points if I don't explain?"
Ivory Quill's expression shifts, a subtle smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth as a spark of satisfaction gleams in her eyes. "Yes," she says sharply, her voice tinged with triumph. "Part of the task is to serve the kingdom or advance magical understanding. If you cannot explain how your artifact works, it fails the criteria."
Her words wipe the smirk off my face, but I recover quickly, suppressing my irritation. "Fine," I say, my tone clipped. "It's an application of physical principles through magic."
Stonehoof raises an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Physical principles? Explain."
I sigh, knowing there's no escaping this if I want my bits. "It works through the manipulation of electrons—tiny components of matter. By moving them in a loop through the material, I create a current. That current generates a magnetic field, which gives the iron its ability to attract other metals."
The judges exchange glances, their expressions ranging from intrigue to confusion. Even Zuri looks momentarily unsure.
Ivory Quill sniffs, her tone skeptical. "Electrons? Current? Magnetic fields? These are unfamiliar terms. Simplify."
I rub my temple, biting back my frustration. "Alright. Imagine the material has invisible threads inside it, and I made those threads move in a circle. When they move, they create an invisible pull that attracts metal objects. That's it."
The room falls silent as the judges digest my explanation. Stonehoof nods slowly, his expression thoughtful. "Huh. Never heard of such a thing, but it's solid. Simple, like you said. Could have practical uses."
Zuri hums softly. "It is unique, I'll grant you that. And it does serve a purpose, albeit a modest one."
Ivory Quill looks less convinced. "It lacks elegance. There is no beauty, no refinement."
"Not everything needs to glow or hum to be useful," I counter, my tone firm but not disrespectful. "Sometimes practicality is its own kind of elegance."
There's a pause, and to my surprise, Sunny Smiles—Celestia—speaks up. "I must admit, I find the concept intriguing. It is… unconventional, but there is value in exploring new perspectives."
Ivory Quill's eyes narrow slightly, but she says nothing. The other judges murmur among themselves, and after a moment, Stonehoof announces, "Alright. We'll deliberate."
As I step back into the lineup, I notice Glimmer Spark watching me, her expression unreadable. The candidates whisper among themselves, and I catch fragments of their conversations—some skeptical, others impressed.
As the judges continue their deliberations, I glance at the other candidates and their creations. Most are clustered near their artifacts, nervously watching the judges or muttering to one another. Glimmer Spark stands off to the side, her focus on what looks like a small, glowing dome.
Curious, I approach her. "That's yours?" I ask, nodding toward the artifact.
She looks up, her expression guarded at first, but then she nods. "Yeah. It's a self-repairing barrier. Well, it's supposed to be."
I tilt my head, intrigued. "Self-repairing?"
She gestures to the dome, her horn lighting up briefly. The surface ripples faintly as if alive, small fractures forming and then sealing themselves almost immediately. The glow remains steady throughout, as if unaffected by the damage.
"It's meant to be a defensive charm," she explains. "Something that could protect ponies in dangerous situations—natural disasters, combat, that kind of thing. The barrier regenerates itself as long as it has magic to draw from."
I whistle softly, genuinely impressed. "That's… not bad."
Her eyes narrow slightly. "Not bad? You could at least pretend to be impressed."
I chuckle. "Alright, fine. It's impressive. Happy?"
Shields like that are beyond me—my magic just doesn't work that way. I've learned to make do, using telekinesis and an understanding of physics to mimic one. But a charm that regenerates and protects, just by feeding magic? That, I would love to have.
She smirks, but there's a hint of tension in her expression. "I'm not sure it'll be enough. The judges seem… hard to please."
"They are," I agree, glancing back at the panel. "But your artifact actually looks useful. That's gotta count for something."
She watches me for a moment, her smirk fading into something more contemplative. "And what about yours? That magnet thing?"
"It's practical," I say simply. "Not flashy, but it works."
She raises an eyebrow. "And you think that'll be enough?"
I shrug. "If it isn't, it isn't. I didn't make it to impress them."
"Then why did you make it?" she asks, her tone genuinely curious.
I hesitate, considering my answer. "Because it's useful," I finally say. "Because it's something new. That's enough."
She studies me for a moment, then nods. "Fair enough." Her gaze drifts back to her barrier. "I just hope they see the value in what we've made."
"They will," I say, surprising even myself with how confident I sound. "Sometimes the best ideas are the simplest."
Glimmer Spark smiles faintly. "I'll hold you to that."
The judges deliberate for what feels like hours but is probably only a few tense minutes. Finally, Ivory Quill steps forward, her expression as inscrutable as ever.
"Kinetic Flux," she begins, her voice carrying across the room, "your artifact is unconventional and difficult to categorize. However, it demonstrates a unique perspective and potential for practical application. It passes."
I nod, keeping my expression neutral, but inside, relief washes over me. One more challenge down.
One by one, the remaining candidates are evaluated. Glimmer Spark's self-repairing barrier earns her high marks, the judges praising its ingenuity and potential for disaster response. By the end of the evaluations, only ten candidates remain. The rest are quietly escorted out, their artifacts and dreams left behind.
Ivory Quill addresses the remaining contenders. "You have proven your worth through creativity, resourcefulness, and skill. But the final phase of this examination will push you even further."
Zuri steps forward, her voice calm but firm. "Tomorrow, you will face each other in the arena. A tournament of duels will decide who among you has the strength, strategy, and composure to hold the title of Archmage."
Stonehoof grunts, clearly enjoying the prospect. "Nonlethal only," he says, his tone gruff but serious. "You're all proven mages, so we trust you know how to control your spells. Injuries are acceptable; killing is not."
The room hums with tension as the words sink in. A tournament. A direct contest of skill against other accomplished mages. I glance at the remaining candidates, sizing them up. Glimmer Spark catches my eye and offers a small, determined nod. Others avoid my gaze entirely, their focus already inward.
"Rest well tonight," Ivory Quill continues. "You will need it. The tournament begins at dawn."
With that, the judges leave, and the tension in the room dissipates slightly. Some candidates start murmuring among themselves, but I make my way back toward the exit, my thoughts already racing.
A tournament of duels. Nonlethal, sure, but that doesn't mean easy. Everypony here is proven, and none of them are going to hold back. I'll have to be careful, precise—one mistake could end everything.
Glimmer Spark falls into step beside me as we leave the arena. "A tournament, huh?" she says, her tone light but with an edge of nervousness. "Should be… fun."
I glance at her. "Fun's not the word I'd use."
She chuckles dryly. "Fair. But hey, we've made it this far, right? Just one more day."
"One more day," I echo, the words heavy on my tongue.
We part ways at the dormitories, the tension in the air making it hard to exchange more than a few words. As I close the door behind me, I lean against it, my mind already running through scenarios, strategies, techniques I'll need to refine.
Tomorrow, the gloves come off.
Author's Note:
Magnetic Field Calculation
Given:
- Energy available: 100 food calories = 418,400 Joules.
- Magnetic field formula: B = μ * N * I / (2 * R), where:
- μ = 4π 10 T·m/A (permeability of free space),
- N = 1 (single loop),
- I = Current through the loop (calculated below),
- R = Radius of the loop (assumed 0.1 m).
Resistance Calculation
Resistance (R_resistance) = ρ * L / A, where:
- ρ = 1 10 Ω·m (resistivity of iron),
- L = 2πR (circumference of the loop),
- A = 1 10 m (cross-sectional area of the iron loop).
R_resistance = (1 10) * (2π * 0.1) / (1 10) = 6.28 10 Ω.
Current Calculation
Using the energy formula, E = I * R_resistance * t:
I = (E / (R_resistance * t)).
Substituting:
I = (418,400 / (6.28 10 * 10)) 8160 A.
Magnetic Field Strength
B = (4π 10) * (1) * (8160) / (2 * 0.1) 0.0514 T.
Force and Weight Calculation
The lifting force (F) of a magnetic field is given by:
F = (B * A) / (2 * μ),
Where:
- B = 0.0514 T (calculated above),
- A = Cross-sectional area of the magnet = 1 10 m,
- μ = 4π 10 T·m/A.
Substitute:
F = (0.0514 * 1 10) / (2 * 4π 10),
F = (2.64 10) / (2.51 10),
F 105 N.
Weight Lifted
Weight is the force of gravity:
W = F / g, where g = 9.81 m/s (gravitational acceleration).
W = 105 / 9.81 10.7 kg.
Final Result
- Magnetic field strength: 0.0514 T.
- Maximum weight lifted: 10.7 kg (approximately 23.6 pounds).