Survive the labyrinth with EX-grade traits

Lumia was an elite beastkin with not just one, but three outstanding talents—enough to ensure a clear path forward if chosen as her main strength.

She was born with what one might call a “talent spoon” in her mouth, instead of a silver or diamond spoon.

Had she not been cursed by a Evil God, she would have easily surpassed the early middle floors of the labyrinth long ago.

‘No, wait. She might not have even chosen the adventurer’s path in the first place. If she were in perfect condition, there would be no reason for her to come to this labyrinth city unless she was desperately seeking riches.’

What if Lumia didn’t have the curse?

Then… she might have become a prominent figure in her village—perhaps even a top-tier warrior among all beastkin.

Like a swift ranger with keen senses, for example?

Maybe that was why the Evil God chose her late—perhaps considering the potential talents hidden within her.

‘No way… That damn evil god… Was he planning to push Lumia into the abyss, break her down, and eventually recruit her as his servant?’

I mean, isn’t that a common cliché? A villain deliberately destroys someone’s life, then offers power to “help” them get revenge, ultimately leading to their corruption.

Just thinking about the pain Lumia must have felt—and would continue to feel—because of that god’s twisted schemes made my blood boil.

It wasn’t just ruining a completed masterpiece—it was staining an unfinished talent with darkness.

But honestly, it didn’t matter whether my guess was right or not.

The Coliseum disaster.

Just recalling what the evil god Tehelum did through Irmela was enough to confirm my stance on those bastards.

Aside from my first goal of becoming a high-ranked adventurer and living in comfort…

Someday, when I gain the power to stand against those evil gods—especially the nameless Evil God—I swore once again that I would never let it slide.

While I was caught up in my own thoughts, Lehial, who had been stunned into silence, finally spoke up.

“Three talents and two aptitudes… That’s truly incredible. The academies will be fighting over Lumia.”

“Fighting over her, huh… Are there a lot of power struggles and competition within the Mage Tower as well?”

“Of course. The Mage Tower isn’t just full of researchers quietly sitting in their labs, acting refined all the time. Especially the Black School—hmm, never mind. You’ll see for yourself later.”

His reaction was oddly hesitant.

“When the results of the aptitude test are made public, there’ll be a huge ripple effect. Each academy will try to bring Lumia in and use her power to strengthen their faction.”

That’s how valuable an entrant with three talents was.

It wasn’t an unprecedented or once-in-a-lifetime occurrence, but it was still rare enough to stir things up.

“Though, I doubt the academy masters themselves will personally step in.”

Well, that made sense. The masters were all likely powerful figures like Gardan.

Lehial tapped his lips thoughtfully and added,

“They’ll probably send their subordinates to highlight their academy’s strengths and offer favorable conditions during the tour process.”

‘So basically, she’s a top-tier free agent in the trade market.’

Lumia stood still with her eyes closed, as if savoring the moment. While waiting for her to return to her senses, I continued talking with Lehial.

“Is the aptitude test result always made public?”

“Of course. It’s a mandatory gateway for entry into the Mage Tower. Without the test results, no academy would accept a student—unless they were already a mid-tier or higher expert who came from outside the city.”

Lehial shrugged.

“And why wouldn’t they make it public? The test reveals talents and aptitudes that even the person themselves didn’t know about.”

“And?”

“Tch… If someone outright refused the test or tried to hide their results while still demanding to join an academy? That’s an instant rejection. If I were a master, I wouldn’t accept them either.”

Well, I didn’t have a definite answer, but I had suspected as much.

The application process was complicated enough, and the test itself was a unique, exclusive system—there was no way they’d allow secrecy.

It was understandable that the academies would reject anyone who refused to participate.

While I was nodding in agreement with Lehial’s answer—

Thump… Thud!

“Ahren!”

Lumia, who had been slowly walking toward me, suddenly spread her arms and leaped at me.

She showed no shame at all, even with Lehial watching.

For once, she raised her voice, clearly overflowing with joy and pride.

“I heard everything from afar. I… I did well, right? Hurry up and praise me. Tell me I’m amazing.”

For a moment, the usually aloof cat-like Lumia seemed adorably different.

While showering her with compliments and peeling her off me,

“Come on, you two!”

Lehial, who had been watching, playfully shouted in mock anger.

“How am I supposed to survive as a single guy when you two keep showing off in front of me? Ugh, this is unfair!”

“…I’m sorry. I was just so happy to finally be someone worthy of Ahren that I got a little excited.”

At Lumia’s apology, Lehial hesitated and took a step back.

“Haha, I was joking. But please try to hold back a little. Romance isn’t forbidden in the Mage Tower, but some people do react… strongly.”

After that small comedic moment, Lumia turned to Lehial with a serious question.

“Do I have to choose a single academy as my main focus?”

“Most people do. Think about it—if someone had multiple talents and just hopped from academy to academy, taking the best parts and leaving, what master would be happy about that?”

“…Ah. I see.”

As Lumia fell silent, I took over the questioning.

“Then what happens to someone like Lumia? If she joins just one academy, does that mean she won’t be able to study her other talents?”

Would she have to figure everything else out on her own?

Lehial waved his hand dismissively.

“No! I get why you’re worried, but… She’ll pick one academy as her main, but she can still engage in academy exchanges, visit the library—”

Academy exchanges, huh.

“Or she could attend regular gatherings, join small independent study groups formed by multiple mages—there are plenty of ways to keep learning, so don’t worry!”

I was mentally processing that information when—

Beep!

A signal tone rang from a communication magic device carried by one of the staff members who had followed us into the chamber.

“Yes?! Understood!”

The staff member, startled, immediately rushed out without even explaining.

After a short while, he returned, looking bewildered.

And then, he dropped a completely unexpected bombshell.

“Um, there’s a message from the Tower Lord… He wants you to undergo the aptitude test as well.”

…Me?

“What? But Ahren is not even a mage. The test platform wouldn’t mean anything for him, right?”

“The Tower Lord said… that even if he doesn’t intend to learn magic, it would still be a meaningful experience. And, well… we have no more test applicants waiting today.”

The staff member fidgeted awkwardly, sweating nervously.

Clearly, a direct order from the distant, high-ranking Conrad was weighing heavily on him.

The results would be private, and I had no idea when—or if—I’d ever get another chance like this.

Even I was curious about what might be hidden inside me, as a transmigrant.

An aptitude test? Sure, why not.

Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I confidently told the waiting staff,

“As long as the security is airtight, I’d be happy to try it.”

“Yes, yes! Oh, what an excellent decision! Everyone else, please wait outside!”

So this is what they meant by “private.”

The staff members carrying communication and information-recording magic tools, the guide Lehill, and even Lumia, who had just finished her assessment—all were escorted out of the stone chamber by the staff.

‘I’ve suddenly ended up alone.’

[Chaos says it would be disappointed if you forgot about her.]

Correction. I wasn’t alone. There were two of us.

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Standing at the center of the circular platform, I took a deep breath.

Being from Earth doesn’t mean I’ll be evaluated as talentless or incompatible, right?

“Come on, no way.”

I clearly remember that during my decisive battle with Cressdowzer, my counterpart from the seventh worldline had taken the path of a mage.

Since my growth direction was already half-set, I relaxed and let my mana flow downward.

Gray mana spread across the entire platform and turned white.

Wuuuuuuung!

A deep, resonant activation sound filled the chamber.

The transformation began right from the first boundary.

…And that was when the problem started.

“What the—shit!”

Something was seriously wrong. A soft white glow began leaking out, flickering and flashing repeatedly.

[Chaos, with a dumbfounded expression, asks what the hell is going on.]

“Aaah.”

I don’t know. How the hell should I know?

Paaaah!

Fire, earth, and wind took on a soft glow.

Ice and lightning, however, shone with an intense radiance.

Could it be that my current traits are affecting my talent assessment?

Regardless of my silent questioning, the response proceeded past the first boundary of elemental attributes and moved to the three-colored boundary.

Saaaaa…

Black, white, and colorless attributes all emitted a soft glow.

This much, I could accept.

As a so-called Apostle of Chaos, it made sense for black and white to resonate… sure, why not.

Colorless was just a bonus.

But my attempt to rationalize things was shattered when the next boundary made no sense at all.

Paaah!

The illumination from the Enchantment school could be attributed to its inherent cohesion, but what about the rest?

Why the hell were Metal and Ancient magic marked as compatible?

Even at the next boundary of Freedom and Struggle, it started flashing right away.

The brilliance from the Exploration attribute stabbed at my eyes.

I was starting to feel scared when I reflexively smacked my forehead.

“Shit, right! So it wasn’t just me messing up!”

The Summoning and Nature schools showed no signs of light whatsoever.

Paaaah!

Then, the Combat school flared up again with an intense reaction, yet I felt relieved that not every single attribute was lighting up.

You think lighting up all twenty attributes would be a good thing?

Having experienced it firsthand, I can say—it absolutely wasn’t.

When someone gets excessively praised over and over, their mind goes cold, and a creeping sense of anxiety sets in. I felt that in full force today.

The final boundary—the Singularity boundary.

‘I can’t let my guard down until the very end.’

Pah! Paaah!

The brilliance from Mysticism and Space-Time attributes softened into a glow at Language magic, then completely disappeared at Curses.

…A total of seven talents. Ten compatibilities.

Aside from Summoning, Nature, and Curses, every other school had registered.

Frost, Lightning, Dimensional Leap, Cohesion—all these weren’t even magic-related traits, yet they were categorized as acquired factors?

I didn’t understand how, but instinctively, I knew—

If this gets out, I’m screwed.

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Stepping out of the stone chamber, I tried to organize my jumbled thoughts. Leaving the staff behind, I exchanged a brief conversation with the other two.

“Ahren, are you okay? You don’t look well.”

“I’m not sure how many attributes lit up for you, but don’t be too discouraged. Lumia is just extremely gifted—it’s not that you’re falling behind.”

…It’s the exact opposite.

I couldn’t reveal the truth, so I was living out a real-life version of “The Emperor’s New Clothes.”

“Let’s move on to the next step!”

Our next destination was the Exploration school, which was one of Lumia’s three talent affinities.

Paaah!

We arrived on the 18th floor.

A few mages, resting in the lounge, glanced at us as we stepped out of the teleportation circle.

“Normally, not many people use the warp gate, so don’t mind them.”

Lehill explained that most of the people gathered in the school lounges were lower-rank mages.

Before leaving the chamber, while cooling my head, I had learned about the tower’s structure and organization.

The tower’s hierarchy was influenced by external reputation, entry preferences among newcomers, school specializations, and the frequency of talents and compatibilities revealed during assessments.

As a result, the size of each school’s allocated floors varied.

For example, the Earth school, led by Master Gardan and associated with Haynes, was part of the common elemental category. Its combination of offensive magic and terrain manipulation made it popular, so it occupied four independent floors from the 26th to the 30th.

Meanwhile, the Black school, despite being one of the Three-Colored schools, suffered from unpopularity and low enrollment due to its association with ancient taboos like necromancy. It only occupied two floors—the 67th and 68th.

It was so bad that there were stories of mages whose only talent was in the Black school opting to join Summoning instead, purely out of reluctance.

‘Ugh, that’s depressing. The Black school master must have been humiliated.’

Anyway, the first floor of each school’s area housed a lounge with desks, tables, and shared research rooms.

As you went higher, you’d find mid- and high-ranking mages’ personal labs, with the master’s office at the very top.

Lehill, unfazed by the occasional glances, approached the desk and spoke on our behalf.

“We’re here for a school tour. Could you check for us?”

“Of course. Could I get a name?”

“I’m Lumia, a mage who just completed the assessment today.”

“One moment, please.”

The staff member operated a square magical device resembling a modern tablet.

“Huh?”

They hesitated for a second, checking something before suddenly reacting with surprise.

“The master left a message requesting that if Lumia and her group arrived, they should proceed to the office immediately. Would all three of you please head to the 20th floor?”

“…Has it already started? Understood. Thank you.”

Once we stepped away from the desk, I asked Lehill.

“You said this wasn’t supposed to happen. We’re not about to get dragged into something shady, are we?”

“Ahaha, this is a bit unexpected for me too. Normally, people just tour the schools with a guide or the others they took the assessment with, then submit an application if they’re interested.”

Lehill assured us that school masters were usually very reserved, so this wasn’t necessarily a bad sign.

Lumia, who had been quietly listening, whispered softly.

“I want to go. Ahren, stay close to me.”

Well, considering Conrad’s influence, they might try some light persuasion, but I doubted they’d resort to coercion or threats.

It would be overkill to use a warp gate or an elevator for just a few floors.

We took the public stairs up to the 20th floor and arrived at the office.

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—The old man has finally lost it. What nonsense is he spouting?

“Conrad. Don’t play dumb.”

—Listen carefully. Yesterday, three. Today, one. Among those who completed the assessment, not a single person had a talent for the Mysticism school.

“I have already read the heavens. The stars have whispered to me.”

An elderly man, his white hair long and flowing, stroked his beard.

“I must meet him. If I don’t… the darkness lurking beneath will soon consume us all.”