He had to draw out maximum efficiency with the minimum amount of Mana. In a situation where he didn’t know how long the battle would drag on or what his total Mana capacity was, that was the best choice.
And to do that, unless absolutely necessary, he had to refrain from wrapping his entire body in a Barrier like he was doing now. It was manageable for just himself, but he couldn’t afford to plaster protective shields onto others as well.
So, to use Mana as efficiently as possible, he racked his brain. The conclusion he arrived at was not a full-body Barrier, but rather thin, single-use shields that could respond to each incoming attack—even if their size and performance were reduced.
He hadn’t really expected it to work, but when the method proved effective, Sihyeon swallowed his breath. Since he had a skill that could heal instantly, he’d tried it with the intention of using it if something went wrong—but fortunately, he was able to avoid a situation where he had to use a Heal on Seowoo.
It definitely drains less than before.
Compared to earlier, the energy leaving his body was significantly reduced. It had been a split-second decision, but it was the right one. Tightening his grip on the staff, Sihyeon focused.
The effect was good, but honestly, it was a method that became difficult to use properly if his concentration slipped. He had to deploy the right-sized shield at the exact right timing. It couldn’t be too big or too small, nor too strong or too weak.
Because it required such fine control, it was mentally taxing. Drawing in a breath, Sihyeon steadied his wavering focus, reminding himself of the successful execution. As if in response, the Wormmen began to move again.
Bang! Bang!
“Kiieeek!”
Each time they attempted an attack, a transparent barrier blocked it. Irritated, a Wormman shrieked and twisted its body toward Sihyeon. It seemed to have figured out who was responsible for nullifying its attacks with those persistent shields.
As the Wormman shifted its target from Seowoo to himself, Sihyeon stepped back. The thick Barrier he had cast earlier was still in place. It could block two hits by default—three if he was lucky. Fixing his gaze on the Wormman, he watched as it stomped the ground heavily before charging at him like a bull.
No—more precisely, it tried to charge.
—Thunk!
Ignoring Seowoo and rushing toward Sihyeon, the Wormman was met with Seowoo’s blade as he swung it backward, driving the sword straight into its body.
“I’m not really the type who likes being ignored.”
Though he wore a faint smile, the action itself was chilling. He bent his arm once, then forcefully extended it—
Thud.
Seowoo’s sword pierced straight through the Wormman’s neck. It was a gruesome sight, different from when Haru’s dagger had pierced through its jaw.
As he immediately pulled the blade out, the Wormman’s blood spurted upward.
Shhh—like rain, the falling blood splashed against the Barrier, and the black fluid obscured Sihyeon’s vision. His stomach twisted. Grimacing at the crawling sensation along his skin, Sihyeon dropped the Barrier and cast it again, glaring at Seowoo.
“Try to kill them a bit more cleanly.”
“I should’ve covered your eyes.”
I can’t exactly tell you not to kill them. As Sihyeon gave that contradictory warning, Seowoo answered with a gentle smile. Notably, he left out any promise of killing them cleanly.
Only one remained. The four Wormmen had somehow been reduced to just one.
Though not as fast as Haru or Hamin, Seowoo still dealt with the Wormmen at a considerable speed. Even taking into account Sihyeon’s support, it was still frightening. Sihyeon’s gaze followed him.
“Kiiik….”
The last remaining Wormman, which had stayed in the air the whole time—neither attacking nor being attacked—let out an uneasy cry. Unable to strike easily, it hovered hesitantly. Seowoo flicked the blood off his blade and met its gaze.
Hiss, hiss—hovering in the air, the Wormman curled its red lips upward in displeasure.
“Not coming?”
“Kiiik!”
It couldn’t understand him, yet it screeched as if answering. Taking that cry as a refusal, Yoo Seowoo spun his sword once in his grip.
“If you won’t come, I’ll go.”
What is he even saying?
Haeun wasn’t here—there was no way he could reach it. Sihyeon looked at Seowoo as if asking what he thought he was doing without a Flight skill. Then, thinking, Well, he’s still young—maybe he just wants to act like it, Sihyeon relaxed—
And Seowoo suddenly turned his head toward him.
Doing this while leaving a flying Wormman unattended seemed insane.
Thinking he might get himself killed if he let his guard down, Sihyeon frowned. Seowoo, however, smiled sweetly and spoke.
“Sihyeon, do you think you could make your skill function like footholds?”
“The Barrier?”
“Yeah, like stairs.”
It doesn’t have to be many. About three should be enough.
At his gentle addition, Sihyeon let out a short exclamation. He finally understood why Yoo Seowoo had been acting so confidently—why he’d made that seemingly baseless claim.
Barriers were specialized for blocking physical attacks, and Sihyeon was fairly capable of controlling their size and placement. That meant he could create a staircase of barriers leading up to the Wormman in the air.
So it can be used like this too. Looking at Seowoo with newfound realization, Sihyeon briefly reflected on having thought of him as insane.
“I can do it.”
“Then I’ll leave it to you.”
His blue eyes rolled slightly as he gauged the distance between Seowoo and the Wormman. Three seemed a bit risky, so he created five barriers in a staggered, stair-like formation. Seeing them, Seowoo gave a short laugh.
“You worry too much.”
Sihyeon’s eyebrow twitched at the chiding tone. He’d added two extra just in case, making it five for stability—and still got criticized.
Should I just erase them all?
Just as that thought crossed his mind, Seowoo kicked off the ground and leapt into the air.
Tap—landing cleanly on the first foothold, he immediately jumped to the second. Perhaps his claim that three were enough hadn’t been a lie after all—gaining momentum, he launched himself from the second straight to the fifth.
His clean, unnecessary movements almost looked like a form of performance art. From Sihyeon’s unintended front-row seat, it was like watching Yoo Seowoo perform acrobatics. After stepping on the fifth foothold, Seowoo checked the Wormman’s position and, without hesitation, kicked off again.
Crack.
He must have pushed off with tremendous force—the fifth foothold Sihyeon had created split apart. Sihyeon’s eyes widened as he looked up at Seowoo, who had leapt high into the air.
“If you jump from there—!”
“Kieeek!”
The Wormman’s scream cut him off mid-sentence. Seowoo had brought his sword down from above.
Thud! The blade drove deep into its eye, and the Wormman writhed in agony. Seowoo’s body began to fall along with it—from a height comparable to a third floor.
The one who panicked wasn’t Seowoo—it was Sihyeon.
Shocked, Sihyeon quickly created a large Barrier at mid-height.
Thud!
As if he had expected it, Seowoo tossed aside his sword along with the Wormman and landed neatly on the Barrier. His breathing didn’t even falter.
That crazy bastard.
Having created a Barrier sturdy enough to withstand a fall from that height, Sihyeon muttered under his breath while forming three more footholds in a staircase so Seowoo could descend.
Unlike before, Seowoo stepped on all three this time as he came down. Looking at Sihyeon, his expression was astonishingly calm and composed—completely unlike Sihyeon, whose face had twisted in irritation.
“You’ve gotten more skilled now.”
“Stop doing reckless things.”
What, did he think he was some kind of hero just because he killed a few Wormmen? Then again… knowing Seowoo, he probably would’ve been fine even from that height. Still, you never know.
Stepping closer to inspect him, Sihyeon noticed a shallow cut beneath Seowoo’s eye. Despite his inhuman performance, it seemed he was still human after all.
Seeing the sharp, blade-like wound, Sihyeon frowned. It wasn’t deep, but if it had been slightly higher, it could’ve been dangerous—he might’ve lost his eye.
Annoying as he was, they had fought together. He couldn’t just leave it untreated. After a brief internal conflict, Sihyeon made his decision and reached out.
“…?”
Seowoo, who usually stayed guarded like a stray cat, looked puzzled as Sihyeon suddenly approached and extended his hand. Still, he remained still. Bringing his hand near Seowoo’s eye, Sihyeon used a simple Heal.
A soft light gathered at his fingertips, and the wound beneath Seowoo’s eye was restored. Blinking, Seowoo touched the spot before letting the corners of his eyes curve lazily.
“Guess I look a bit prettier now. You even healed me and everything.”
“You asked for it.”
He really rivals Kang Haeun when it comes to talking nonsense. As Sihyeon made an exasperated expression, his fingertips trembled faintly. Lowering his hand quickly, he hid it behind his back.
He had sensed it vaguely before, but now he was certain—once a certain amount of Mana was depleted, it felt similar to having all his stamina drained. It seemed Mana was a kind of vitality.
Clenching and unclenching his trembling hand behind his back, Sihyeon suddenly noticed the Wormman corpses around him catching fire.
—Fwoosh.
Startled, he flinched and stepped back, staring at the spontaneously igniting bodies. Just as he wondered what was happening, someone came to mind—a Fire Elemental Ability User.
Turning his head, he saw Jihye in the distance, burning all the Wormman corpses. Perhaps to spare the others from discomfort and psychological shock, she had taken it upon herself to handle the aftermath.
Is it over?
Since cleanup had begun, it seemed things had finally settled—for now. Looking around, Sihyeon saw two or three remaining Wormmen still confronting other students. Figuring they could handle it themselves, he withdrew his gaze and searched for Haru.
Among ninety-six students in the field, finding Haru wasn’t difficult.
All he had to do was look for the biggest flames.
Amid what looked like dozens of burning Wormman corpses, he spotted Haru and Hamin standing there. Only after the flames died down did Sihyeon approach them, passing by Haeun—who complained about having his Mana drained like a mosquito—and Hamin, who flicked Haeun’s forehead, before heading straight to Haru.
Haru’s body was soaked in black blood, and he was wearing slightly cracked glasses—perhaps ones he’d bothered to pick back up. Watching him with discomfort, Sihyeon checked his trembling hand.
It still seemed manageable.
Quietly, he used a Clean skill to wash and disinfect the stains. As if time had reversed, Haru’s clothes became spotless. He had wondered why such a skill existed when Heal was available—but it seemed this was exactly the kind of situation it was meant for.
Moments like this made being a Healer feel convenient. Calling Haru’s name, Sihyeon watched as he adjusted his glasses and looked down at his now-clean clothes in amazement.
Bwooo—!
At that moment, a massive horn blared across the field through the speakers.
It was the signal marking the end of the long Placement Test.
