The Former Child Prodigy: “You’re Saying My Magic Is Too Strong—”

…I’d done it now…

I had gone pale. Far from ending things on a pleasant note, this was completely out. Blowing away one of the examiners that hard… there was no coming back from that.

Phonic had gone flying too, but that had been part of Phonic’s act, after all…

“Oww…”

Carmilla, who had been slammed into the wall, had not lost consciousness.

Even so, the damage seemed serious. Her face was twisted in pain, and her right arm hung limply at her side. Seeing a beautiful woman like that made me feel genuinely awful.

“Carmilla-sama, are you alright!?”

Carmilla gave a small nod at the examiner’s question, then returned to where I was and stood in front of me.

“You’ve got some skill, haven’t you?”

Carmilla’s voice was surprisingly steady, but she could not fully hide the damage she had taken.

“…Um, I’m really, truly sorry…”

“To think you would break not only the targets, but even my Hard Protection. Your power is absurd beyond reason.”

“You’re saying my magic is too strong… You mean that literally, right? Too strong?”

“Yes, exactly.”

So it really had been too strong… That probably meant a major deduction for being unable to control it. A working adult had to be able to do things “just right.” The nail that stuck out got hammered down. Going overboard was not something people praised.

“Hey, tell me your examinee number.”

…Of course, I understood perfectly well what that meant.

After causing something like this, she was probably going to fail me. But that could not be helped. I had injured the person who had been testing me. I had no grounds to complain.

“…Number 378…”

“Number 378, hm.”

After repeating it, Carmilla peered into my face. A fearless smile floated on her lips. It looked as though she were sizing me up.

“I’m going to take a verrrry close look at your application.”

“Y-yes…”

That sounded exactly like, I’ll remember this.

I’d really done it now… And after the Meteor Swordsman Phonic had gone to all that trouble to help me, too.

And so, my exam came to an end.

“Thank you very much.”

I bowed my head to Carmilla and the examiner, then slowly trudged out of the venue.

It seemed my first-ever job hunt had ended in failure. How was I supposed to explain this to my little sister Arisa…? Well, I had only ever thought of passing as a lucky break to begin with. I should not dwell on it too seriously.

Still, joining the imperial capital’s largest clan, huh… That had been too good an opportunity to lose…

After all the exams had finished—

Phonic the Meteor Swordsman entered the grand conference room.

All the members of Black Dragon’s Fang who had participated as examiners were gathered there. They were there to compile the exam results and decide who would be accepted into the clan.

Deliberating over pass or fail—the major final milestone that crowned the end of the exam—but it usually was not very exciting.

There usually was not much to argue about.

As the imperial capital’s largest clan, joining required a certain level of ability or talent. And so, most of the selections turned out “just as expected.”

Which was why, amid the usual mood of good work on the exams, the proceedings normally moved forward calmly and quietly.

But this time was different.

Phonic could feel an atmosphere that was clearly different from usual hanging in the air.

A single sheet of paper was passing from examiner to examiner in succession. Phonic could easily imagine what that paper was.

Number 378—the application form of the man who had defeated Phonic, most likely. The examiners’ eyes kept flicking toward Phonic as though they wanted to say something to him, so there was no doubt.

Phonic showed no particular reaction and sat down in an empty chair, but—

“Hey, Phonic. Rough luck, huh?”

A veteran member sitting beside him spoke up.

“…Yeah, you could say that.”

“Did you accidentally go too easy on him?”

It was not an unreasonable suspicion.

Phonic was one of the Eight Stars, the eight greatest fighting forces belonging to the imperial capital’s largest clan, Black Dragon’s Fang. For one of them to get thrashed by some mysterious newcomer who had come out of nowhere was not something people could believe easily.

He could have put on a brave face, but—

“No, I was serious.”

Yes, he had been serious.

Phonic the Meteor Swordsman had thrown everything he had into it—and suffered an ugly defeat.

And another of the Eight Stars had as well.

The door opened with a clatter.

Everyone turned to look.

The red-haired mage Carmilla walked in. What was different from usual was that her right arm was wrapped in bandages and suspended from her neck. Phonic had also heard the rumor that Carmilla had been injured while trying—and failing—to receive number 378’s magic.

Healing magic existed, but it was not some convenient thing that instantly healed any wound if you cast it. At most, it closed wounds—it was much more like first aid. The underlying damage remained firmly in place, so it would still take time before Carmilla’s right arm fully recovered.

In other words—

It had not been an injury shallow enough to be fixed by healing magic alone.

“That’s 378’s, right?”

Carmilla swiftly snatched the paper from one of the examiners, then sat down in an empty seat.

As she stared intently at it—

Carmilla knit her beautiful brows.

Since Phonic knew what was written there, he could read what she was thinking as plainly as if it were in his hand.

After all, the occupation field said nothing but “NEET.”

And yet, two of the Eight Stars that Black Dragon’s Fang took pride in had been casually defeated by such a mysterious person.

Carmilla finished reading number 378’s application and set it on the table.

One of the examiners spoke to her.

“Carmilla, as the one whose arm got wrecked, what do you think?”

“…Listen. This injury is just my own fault for getting carried away. It has nothing to do with the evaluation I give as an examiner.”

“Then how did you evaluate him?”

“He’s obviously a hire, isn’t he? There’s no way we let someone like that get away… right, Meteor Swordsman?”

“That’s right.”

The question had been thrown at him out of nowhere, but Phonic answered in a calm tone. There was no reason for him to panic. His answer had long since been decided inside him.

He had counterattacked the Meteor Swordsman’s blade— and shattered the Crimson Mage’s shield.

Having accomplished those two things, his results could not possibly be dismissed as a fluke. No—in the world of adventurers, a meritocracy where a single instant of carelessness could be fatal, there was no such thing as luck.

That man, Ilvis, had broken through one of the Eight Stars by sheer ability.

Until now, there must have been some restraint. Once Carmilla and Phonic, the two who had been defeated, both spoke in favor of acknowledging him, the atmosphere softened, and the examiners’ conversation grew livelier.

“Yeah, number 378 is way beyond standard.”

“He passes, obviously.”

“I wonder which one would be stronger if he fought Orfred-sama?”

That was a topic Phonic himself found interesting.

The clan master of Black Dragon’s Fang, the great adventurer who possessed the power of both a Sword Saint and a Sage. In that sense too, they were similar—both wielded sword and magic alike.

(…Still, there’s no way he could compare to Orfred-sama…)

After that, the examiners’ conversation grew even more heated and shifted into a debate over number 378 versus Orfred.

However, the relaxed atmosphere in the conference room— was silenced in an instant.

Because the very man in question, Clan Master Orfred, had opened the door and appeared.

Even having entered his fifties, he was still regarded as the mightiest force in Black Dragon’s Fang—no, in the entire imperial capital. He was still more than strong enough even now, though people said that even so, he had declined from his prime.

He had inherited Black Dragon’s Fang in his mid-twenties and had already reigned as its leader for nearly thirty years.

His strength, his title, his achievements.

Every last one of them was overwhelming. He was a figure like a living legend.

In the room that had gone silent as though splashed with water, only Orfred’s footsteps echoed. He stopped in front of his seat, looked down at Phonic and the others, and spoke.

“Ladies and gentlemen, good work.”

At those words, everyone bowed their heads.

Not as a matter of workplace manners— but out of obedience from the bottom of their hearts. Orfred’s words carried enough weight to compel that.

Overwhelming charisma—the force and pressure of it dwelled in those words.

Orfred took his seat and opened the discussion.

“Now then, let us begin the meeting.”

As always, the meeting proceeded steadily. The adventurers expected to pass did pass, and the rest of the crowd failed.

When the meeting was nearing its end, one of the examiners steeled himself and asked Orfred a question.

“…Um, what should we do about number 378?”

“Number 378?”

Orfred tilted his head as if to say, Who is that?

“…Uh…”

The examiner faltered and turned his eyes toward Phonic. He wanted to say, The applicant who defeated Phonic—but he must have been hesitating out of consideration for him.

Phonic gave the examiner a slight look, then spoke.

“He is the applicant who defeated both myself and Carmilla.”

“Ah, him.”

Orfred said it as though he had just remembered.

Then he continued without the slightest fuss.

As though to say, Why are you asking something so obvious? Isn’t the answer already decided?

That was the tone he used.

“Number 378 is not accepted—he is disqualified.”