The ability known as “Spatial Teleportation” is one of those powers that always comes up in conversations about superpowers, and it’s definitely something everyone has dreamed about trying at least once.
I mean, imagine closing your eyes and opening them to find yourself instantly transported from the middle of a busy street to the comfort of your own room. How could there possibly be a more convenient and awesome power?
This so-called “instant teleportation” ability is actually more versatile than you might think. Even just using it as a simple transporter between two spaces is already incredibly practical, but there’s even more to it than that.
The most straightforward combat application of this ability would be to seamlessly integrate it into battles—whether it’s swordplay or magic-based attacks.
“Your final exam will be an evaluation of your combat abilities. This year’s test format is called ‘Golem Hit.'”
Murmurs ran through the crowd.
“Is it really the end already?”
It seemed everyone was thinking the same thing as me because the mention of the “final exam” by the host quickly turned the quiet room into a buzz of excited voices. It felt like showing up for a national test only to discover it consisted of just ten questions.
But honestly? It was great for me.
“The test is quite straightforward. You will face one of our Academy-developed Auto Golems, and you’ll be scored on how many hit points you can land. Please note that these golems are not programmed for offensive attacks, but they do have some very basic counterattack programming.”
“Hmm.”
From the host’s brief description, this exam seemed no more challenging than the previous ones. Essentially, all we had to do was engage in combat with a golem programmed only to counter occasionally, not attack.
“Moreover, to prevent any possible cheating or loopholes, this test will be held in a specially prepared space where examinees cannot witness each other’s performances. Supervisors will oversee all exams live to ensure fair play.”
With the mention of the final exam, the formerly lively venue grew quiet as everyone listened intently.
“The overall format feels sound.”
It made sense now why the earlier two tests were designed as they were. The first stage of the exam was nothing more than a five-second test—a somewhat embarrassing process where you placed your hand on a crystal ball developed by none other than the Academy itself. If the crystal lit up blue, you passed; otherwise, you failed. This seemed to measure basic mana quantity and potential, screening out candidates who didn’t meet the Academy’s standards.
Most examinees likely assumed this was an easy test to pass, but surprisingly, many failed to see the blue light and were eliminated early.
If the first exam tested for basic “level” requirements, the second exam was much more serious.
In the second test, candidates, already deemed to have sufficient base levels, were asked to showcase their specialties by attacking a magical barrier with whichever method they felt most comfortable using. Some swung swords, others fired arrows, and a few cast spells.
Candidates who managed to crack or visibly damage the barrier passed immediately, though some who didn’t quite achieve this were still granted passage at the discretion of the examiners.
“During this final test, your score will be based on the number of hit points recorded against the golem. Please give your best effort.”
“Ah-ha.”
Until now, the first two exams had been simple pass/fail types, leaving me puzzled over how a top scorer would emerge. This final round seemed to clear things up—this was where the main test happened.
“I see. So this is where I need to really shine if I want the top rank.”
Contemplating the unknown skill levels of my competitors, a competitive spirit started bubbling up within me. Determined to put in my full effort, I didn’t have much time to mull this over before it was my turn.
“Alright, the next ten examinees will now be transported to the testing area.”
As the host finished speaking, light enveloped my feet, and in an instant, I found myself facing a stone golem.
“Warp magic, it’s been a while.”
Casually scanning my surroundings, I observed a circular arena perhaps 15 meters in diameter, the ceiling some five meters above.
For someone like me, whose signature ability is “spatial teleportation,” thoroughly understanding the space around me was crucial. After all, preparation was key for handling any situation.
With that mental note, I began my analysis.
The auto golem sprang to life, its eyes glowing as it began its slow advance. A quick realization struck me.
“Oh yeah, it can’t actually attack.”
Without hesitation, I propelled myself forward.
If this were a real fight, I wouldn’t have charged forward recklessly like this, but remember—watching supervisors were probably observing me intently right now. A good student should appear earnest yet simple.
Besides, I didn’t want anything revealing my ability to use spatial teleportation without mana.
This world, Arcania, indeed had a multitude of powers, but they all stemmed from the same source: mana. My unique “spatial teleportation” ability, however, required no mana at all. It simply worked the moment I willed it.
This was why I had to act cautiously. In a world where even minor techniques needed mana to function, exposing my ability would create unnecessary complications. Thus, I had carefully chosen the persona of a “fighter.”
Punch—Ding—Punch—Ding.
“Is this the vibe?”
I infused my fists with a dash of mana, striking the golem’s abdomen and chest in quick succession. With each hit, satisfying “ding” sounds rang out from the golem.
The golem responded with a swift counterattack, swinging its massive arm. Easily dodging, I leaped backward, keeping my distance.
One approach and one punch were enough to assess the situation. The golem would counter each attack, requiring me to get close repeatedly and deliver hits.
But then it hit me.
“Maybe I should’ve chosen a better persona.”
Fighting up close was great for a brawler, but others could have easily scored higher points with ranged attacks. During the second exam, plenty of students had shattered the barrier with powerful spells, proving that distance attacks could quickly net significant scores.
A sliver of doubt entered my mind.
“This is bad. I need to rank first!”
Pouncing again on the golem, I thought furiously. What was the fastest way to score points within the limited time?
Then it came to me.
“If the problem is the golem dodging, then prevent it from dodging.”
Keeping this in mind, I initiated my plan. As the golem neared me, I gathered mana around me, creating a deceptive illusion of casting a spell, all while focusing on the true task.
In reality, I wasn’t using any mana. But to the observers, it would appear as though I’d cast some kind of teleportation magic, allowing me to seamlessly transition positions.
In this fluid space, my body moved faster than the eye could see. In the blink of an instant, I appeared behind the golem, delivering a powerful uppercut.
Punch—Ding!
The golem, struck hard, sailed into the air with surprising lightness.
Perfect.
Leaping after it as it floated helplessly in mid-air, I proceeded to pummel the defenseless golem relentlessly.
Ding—Ding—Ding!
“Wow! This feels amazing!”
Hanging mid-air, unable to dodge my strikes, the golem’s limbs flailed futilely. With each hit, the clear “ding” sound echoed beautifully, and I couldn’t help but time my punches in rhythm.
Ding—Ding—Thud.
After several strikes, the golem finally crashed to the ground. Despite being a machine incapable of pain, it quickly rose and repeated its earlier routine—charging forward only to leap back again.
There was something almost cowardly in the way it now eyed me, perhaps hinting at a newfound fear.
“Okay. One more round?”
Charging again, I taunted the golem and repeated the same moves. It felt wonderful to be back in action.
The rest of the exam would be repeating this routine until the time was up.
