Unexpected Encounters at the Talent Test

Freyja had already exited the magic level testing area. Yet, Roland’s hand remained draped over her shoulder, utterly motionless.

“We’ve already cleared the first stage, you know.”

She offered this “kind” reminder to the man beside her.

“Mm.”

Roland nodded.

“Tsk… then why haven’t you let go yet!”

Freyja jabbed Roland’s chest with her elbow, dislodging his hand from her shoulder.

“You practically crushed me the whole way! You could have resisted it perfectly well on your own towards the end!”

“The capable should bear more burdens, shouldn’t they?” Roland performed a quick chest expansion, then jutted his chin forward. “Look—the talent testing area is right ahead.”

Only three individuals currently occupied this area, standing at a fork in the path and intently reading the text inscribed on a wooden sign.

Beside the wooden sign stood two men and one woman. They appeared to be acquainted, conversing softly as their eyes scanned the instructions.

With the examination’s commencement drawing near, those who had managed to reach this section so swiftly were undoubtedly far from ordinary.

Roland led Freyja to the wooden sign bearing the instructions, joining the other examinees who were already engrossed in reading.

“Oh? More people have caught up so quickly?” The red-haired youth, hearing footsteps behind him, turned to find Roland. He offered a casual smile. “Mm, quite a promising talent, indeed. Such remarkably balanced and stable magic fluctuations…”

“Wesley, it is impolite to judge others so freely.” A tall young woman, her shoulders graced by a cascade of thick, brown curly hair, shook her head at the red-haired boy. She then turned to Roland, offering a polite smile. “My apologies, my friend tends to be rather direct.”

“No matter,” Roland replied, “I believe it’s merely a habit of his.”

Roland nodded, offering a faint smile to convey his acceptance of her explanation.

At that moment, the black-haired youth nearest to the wooden sign turned his head. Like his companions, he was clad in a custom-tailored black apprentice mage’s robe.

His face was slender, his skin fair, and a pair of black, round-rimmed glasses rested upon his prominent nose. He exuded an aura of both kindness and wisdom.

“To think there’s a Level 30 individual here,” the black-haired youth murmured, pointing subtly at the figure partially concealed behind Roland. “Truly extraordinary…”

Freyja’s brow furrowed. During the magic level test, she had been forced to release her magic fluctuations, yet she had deliberately reined them in while walking behind Roland.

Despite her efforts, this black-haired youth had still managed to perceive her presence…

‘Indeed, his magical perception is formidable,’ Roland thought to himself.

“Potter, you’re not joking, are you? Level 30? Is it truly that exaggerated?” The brown-haired, curly-haired young woman’s expression shifted to surprise.

However, she made no further move, merely blinking curiously as she addressed Roland in a calm tone. “Sir, surely my friend’s words aren’t actually true, are they?”

Roland offered a helpless smile, his gaze briefly sweeping over the trio.

The brown-haired young woman possessed a tall, graceful figure and striking beauty. Even cloaked in a plain black apprentice mage’s robe, she radiated an undeniable youthful vitality.

Her displayed demeanor and every action thus far perfectly adhered to etiquette, presenting an elegant and approachable presence.

To the young woman’s left stood the very individual who had, moments ago, so casually judged Roland’s magic fluctuations. He possessed hair like leaping flames, piercing blue eyes, and a scattering of noticeable freckles near his nose. His tall, handsome frame was notably slender.

To her right was the black-haired youth, his voluminous dark hair appearing somewhat disheveled and untamed. At this moment, his bright green eyes, magnified by his glasses, were fixed upon Freyja, who stood behind Roland.

After swiftly assessing the trio’s dispositions, Roland deferred the decision to Freyja. He cast a glance back at her, and she understood his unspoken cue.

“Indeed, I am but a humble individual,” Freyja began, a hint of false modesty in her tone, “and have only just managed to scrape by at Level 30.”

Stepping out from behind Roland, Freyja lowered her hood, revealing her breathtaking appearance.

Her visage, with its striking white hair and vibrant purple eyes, caused all three individuals before her to gasp in astonishment.

Freyja, clearly reveling in their reactions, allowed a triumphant curve to grace her lips, as if silently urging them, ‘More expressions like that, please, and feel free to lavish more praise upon me.’

“White hair… it’s so beautiful~” The brown-haired, curly-haired young woman gazed at Freyja with open envy. She then touched her own curls, letting out a sigh. “Ah… what a pity. That hair color wouldn’t suit me, or else I’d certainly consider dyeing mine the same when I return.”

“Mm… mm!” The red-haired youth’s posture stiffened perceptibly. He bit his lower lip, gazing at Freyja with a look of utter bewilderment.

The black-haired youth, however, swiftly recovered from his momentary awe. Crossing his arms over his chest, he addressed Freyja. “Excuse me, but is your white hair natural?”

“Mm…” Freyja pondered for a moment. Though she had lost her memories, the hair roots that had grown out over the past few months were all the same color. She nodded. “That’s right, it’s natural.”

“Natural white hair,” the black-haired youth mused, “suggests elven or demonic lineage, perhaps only a faint trace. And your purple eyes…” He raised a finger slightly, his serious expression indicating deep thought.

“Ah… it appears purple eyes signify a bloodline possessing… an exceptional innate talent for magic…”

“That’s incredible…” The brown-haired young woman’s eyes, wide as copper bells, fixed on Freyja. “No wonder you reached this point so quickly. Even though we were technically faster than you, it still took us a considerable amount of time to clear the first stage.”

“Ah, ah, ah…” Freyja, overwhelmed by the sudden deluge of compliments, found herself utterly flustered. She stammered, her mouth opening and closing uselessly, a blush creeping across her cheeks.

Finally, with an air of complete awkwardness, she managed to blurt out a rather clichéd, “Th-thank you.”

Roland abruptly pressed down on her head. “Don’t praise her too much,” he stated flatly. “She’ll only get carried away.”

“Hmph—what’s it to you!” Freyja snatched Roland’s hand, pulling it away. She then pouted. “I wonder who it was just now, practically groveling and begging me for a little help—”

She deliberately elongated the final word, drawing out the implication.

“Hehe~”

“Hahaha—”

“Hehe…”

The trio before them struggled to suppress their laughter at Freyja’s antics. Freyja herself seemed to realize that her recent behavior had been somewhat childish.

A blush crept up her face, making her feel as though her cheeks were burning. She awkwardly scratched her hair, refraining from speaking carelessly again.

“You two are truly amusing, especially you~” The brown-haired young woman pointed at Freyja, a playful smile gracing her lips. “What exactly is your relationship with the gentleman beside you? Could it be… that you’re lovers?”

Once the question hung in the air, everyone present awaited Freyja’s response.

The brown-haired young woman and the black-haired youth were simply curious, while the red-haired boy appeared somewhat nervous, seemingly hoping that such a charming girl remained ‘pure.’ As for Roland, he merely wished to see how Freyja would choose to respond.

Freyja froze at the question, then began hesitantly rubbing her palms together.

“You, you… you should ask him,” she finally managed, “don’t ask me.”

This was the answer she finally produced after a considerable pause.

“Hehe… no matter,” the brown-haired young woman said, offering an apologetic smile to both of them. She then extended her hand to Freyja, speaking in a gentle tone. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Granger Emma, from the Kingdom of Engler. You may simply call me Granger.”

Freyja extended her hand and shook Granger’s, swallowing nervously. “My name is Freyja…” she managed to say.

“Uh… Fre-Freyja?” The red-haired youth paused, a look of utter confusion clouding his face, as if he found something amiss. He cleared his throat before extending his own hand. “My apologies for the rudeness. I am Wesley Rupert, also from Engler.”

Their hands met in a light shake, and Freyja’s eyes betrayed a hint of bewilderment.

“Potter Daniel.”

The black-haired youth extended his hand, but his gesture was directed towards Roland.

“Roland.”

Their introductions were brief and straightforward. Only after their handshake did Potter turn to Freyja, offering an explanation for Wesley’s earlier bewildered expression.

“My apologies,” Potter began, “Wesley’s reaction was due to the rarity of anyone taking the same name as the Imperial Princess.” A complex glint sparkled in Potter’s green eyes.

“Miss Freyja… and Mr. Roland, may I ask the reason you both choose not to disclose your surnames?”

“Because we don’t have any,” Roland replied, subtly nudging Freyja beside him, his expression betraying not a hint of discomfort. “Our parents were merely ordinary villagers, and thus lacked the qualifications to be granted a surname by the Church.”

In truth, only half of Roland’s statement was factual. Surnames on the Teyvat Continent were considered extremely precious. Ordinary folk typically named their children as they pleased, and if identical names arose, they would simply prepend a descriptive epithet, such as ‘Roland the Blacksmith’ or ‘Roland the Shepherd.’

To acquire a surname, one had to awaken their magical abilities, meet the Church’s stringent criteria, and, after being granted a divine mandate, formally petition a Priest for one. However, Roland himself possessed a surname: Auditore, inherited from his father. His mother, Jenny, could also bear this surname, as wives were permitted to adopt their husband’s.

As for the Little Demon Lord… a surname could easily be fabricated for her, as she wasn’t human and thus not bound by such conventions.

Or perhaps, she could even choose to name herself…

“I see…” Potter’s expression suggested he found the explanation somewhat tenuous. “Yet, both of you have clearly achieved such a high level of magical proficiency. Surely, you are fully qualified to petition the Church for a surname?”

“Cough, cough—” Granger subtly tugged at Potter’s sleeve, offering a gentle reminder. “Potter, they likely have their own reasons for not doing so.”

Realizing the validity of her point, Potter blinked awkwardly and offered a wry smile. “My apologies. I haven’t been as thoroughly steeped in etiquette as Miss Granger, so I spoke out of turn.”

“No matter.”

Roland did not press the matter further. After silently committing their names to memory, he shifted his gaze towards the wooden sign.

“First, let us examine this…” he suggested.