Pretending To Be God

"George Sterlinguard!" One of the instructors shouted, rallying the prospects.

Amidst the crowd of promising young talents, George stepped forward, joining the others who had been called by different instructors.

The instructor stroked his beard, glancing at the picture and the name on the paper, ensuring that George was indeed the person he claimed to be. "George Sterlinguard, head to the right lane," he directed, pointing to the lane where many other prospects were gathered. 𝘣𝘦𝘥𝘯𝘰𝑣𝘦𝘭.𝘰𝘳𝘨

George nodded and made his way toward the right lane, where those who had chosen the non-magic sect of the academy were stationed.

The sight before him was diverse—many barbarians and humans, each vying for a chance. Among them, he noticed a few pointy-eared humanoids, elves, who stood tall at 6 feet, towering over most humans. And among every race that was present, in terms of looks, they would be considered on top of the list.

On the left, George could see a slightly shorter line consisting of students from the magic sect. They adorned themselves in extravagant clothing that seemed impractical, representing the highest echelons of society. Most of them were royalty or nobles, while the rest hailed from wealthy merchant families.

During his wait for admission day, George delved into books, discovering the reasons behind the exclusive access to magic. The lack of innate mana reserves among the majority of individuals, mainly men, made it almost impossible for commoners to pursue magic. Instead, they resorted to non-magic alternatives, which, even at the highest level, could rival the power of 8th-circle wizards and witches.

A sudden glimmer of light caught his attention from behind, causing George to turn and shield his eyes. There stood a young man, bedecked in gold-adorned attire from head to toe. "Wow, this guy could be the next Ted Dibiase!" George thought to himself. The young man looked oddly familiar, though George couldn't quite place where he had seen him before.

Oddly enough, he noticed that the following eight students also stood out from the crowd. Whispers and pointing fingers surrounded them. One held a sword of evident worth, followed by four imposing barbarians flanked by two elves who kept their distance from the rest, maintaining an air of separation.

"Alright!" the bearded instructor called out, approaching George's direction. He singled out George, the elves, the five barbarians, and the swordsman. "All of you, follow me!"

Without question, they trailed behind the instructor toward a vast open field situated behind the academy. Large tents had been set up, and they entered one of them as directed.

Inside, a man of immense size sat with legs crossed, making a normal person look small in comparison. Most recognized him from newspaper pictures—the renowned Knight Gideon Cross was hailed as the best Knight in all of Emerald City and ranked 13th in the World Fighting Championship contender list. But here, he is the non-magic sect headmaster.

Some of the barbarians instinctively bowed as a show of respect, but the Knight raised his hand, indicating that it was unnecessary. "No need for formalities here. Act as if I'm not even present," he declared.

With that, the nine prospects exchanged glances, recognizing one another from prior meetings. Among them was the Barbarian Princess, Stulgra Angmar, her muscular yet slender frame setting her apart from her male counterparts. Accompanying her were two strong companions, slightly less muscular than the princess but still capable of overpowering ordinary men.

Stulgra was the daughter of the King of Angmar and a likely heir to the throne. With her formidable allies, her ascension seemed inevitable.

On the opposite side stood the princess's younger brother, Prince Heigdeirr Angmar. Though not in contention for the throne, his imposing physique made one reconsider his position.

Next to him, sharing a similar impressive build, stood the younger brother of the World Fighting Champion, Madrath. While not bearing the Angmar last name due to his commoner status, his talent for combat rivalled that of his champion sibling. The Angmar last name was reserved as an honorary title for barbarian commoner champions but is also the title automatically given to royalties, and Madrath's family history indicated that they preferred their Kingdom's name rather than a family name.

"I didn't expect to find the Princess of Barbarians here!" the lavishly dressed young man exclaimed with confidence.

The Barbarian Princess turned and respectfully bowed her head upon seeing him. "I greet the Prince of the Empire."

The other barbarians followed suit, capturing the attention of everyone in the room.

"No need for formalities," the Prince assured them. "Here, we are equals. Let's forget about my royal titles." He then shifted his attention to the young man holding the sword. "Bryne of the Claymore Household, am I correct?"

Bryne nodded. "Yes."

Bryne Claymore, the swordbearer, was the youngest son of the prestigious Claymore Family, renowned as the world's foremost swordsmanship lineage. However, even that distinction paled in comparison to the Prince of the Empire.

Prince Royce Isenwyn was a candidate for the throne, representing the Empire of Isenwyn. The Empire controlled and taxed kingdoms ruled by witches, wizards, and even kings, including the esteemed Emerald City and the Kingdom of Veridiana.

"I almost missed greeting both of you since you've been so silent," the Prince remarked, turning to the two elves—skilled archers in their own right—who stood with a hint of pride, offering a nod of acknowledgement rather than the elaborate respect displayed by others.

Realizing further greetings were unlikely, the Prince scanned the remaining individuals in the tent until his gaze settled on George. "I haven't seen you before. What's your name?"

George, drawing from his experience as a lawyer and actor, smiled and extended his hand, mirroring the Prince's charismatic presence. "I am George Sterlinguard. It's an honor to meet you."

The Prince shook George's hand, surprised by the fact that someone as young as him could match his aura. He clicked his tongue as he heard the last name. "Sterlinguard, Sterlinguard… Oh, that family! The one that used to own Emerald Vale. How is your family?"

The other prospects in the room took note of George's presence, realizing he belonged to a fallen noble family. "They're all gone," George replied solemnly.

"I... I see," the Prince muttered, a mix of sympathy and curiosity in his expression.

The instructor reentered the tent, ready to deliver instructions. However, Gideon Cross, the headmaster of the non-magic sect, raised his hand.

"Sir?" the instructor inquired, puzzled by Gideon's gesture.

"We have the ten most promising prospects in this tent, and you expect me to subject them to boring tests? Nah, nah! All of you will be fighting each other," Gideon declared.

As George heard this, his heart sank. He had spent the whole week researching the best way to get into the academy and even prepared himself for all of the tests and to be good enough to pass all of them, but now all of it has been thrown out of the window.

Looking at the faces of the other students, his spirit sunken once more, seeing their expressions which showed that they couldn't wait to fight each other.