NOVEL NEXT chapter 86
86. Written Exam (2)
—
As the exam commenced, a cacophony of scratching filled the air from all directions.
Yet, within ten seconds, silence fell.
The students were few, their names barely a whisper.
From the very first question, they found themselves at a loss, unable to make even a simple mark with their pens.
[Describe the methods for preemptively assessing the magical abilities of the enemy.]
To train pioneers of the magical realm, they began with questions about human combat, about close-quarters battle, leaving them utterly bewildered.
“Professor, this question seems strange.”
“In what way?”
“It’s asking about issues that aren’t particularly important, isn’t it?”
The professor cleared his throat and replied.
“Ahem, tactics for interpersonal combat and personal fighting techniques were also included in the curriculum. It’s a subject that’s essential in other academies, so it’s not surprising to see it here.”
“Excuse me? But this is a place that teaches how to fight magical beasts in the magical realm, not primarily to produce civil servants.”
“What matters is that it was covered in class. Everything will prove useful later, so stop your chatter and get on with it.”
The professor’s demeanor was resolute.
The exam questions had crossed the threshold of difficulty, reaching a level that felt entirely different from the subject matter.
The students had no choice but to flip through the pages until a question they recognized appeared.
Rockefeller glanced at the professor, as if to ask whether he had done well with his vague answers, and nodded slightly.
Then he cast his gaze toward the bespectacled man.
From the start of the exam until now, his pen danced with a lively rhythm, never pausing.
‘Belman Tol Gers…’
His magical prowess was decent, but his academic abilities were astonishingly high, rivaling that of the professor despite his young age.
Had it not been for his family’s circumstances, he might have been accepted as a scholarship student at ‘Wisdom,’ the pinnacle of knowledge among the five academies.
‘That guy might just score full marks.’
A glimmer of expectation began to shine in Rockefeller’s eyes.
Yet, he furrowed his brow at the voice that soon echoed from below.
“Professor, why are you watching me so closely?”
Standing in front of Hursel’s desk, Rockefeller replied in an irritable tone.
“…Be quiet. Just focus on your exam.”
“Honestly, you did the same during the entrance exam.”
Grumbling, Hursel resumed scribbling down his answers.
Rockefeller found Hershel more irritating than usual.
This was due to the astonishing speed at which he worked.
Scratch-scratch-scratch—
As if he were copying from an answer sheet.
‘Bellman, I can understand, but how is it that this guy is tackling questions that barely even appeared on the exam…?’
The academy’s textbooks were far more specialized than the common materials found outside.
They contained distilled knowledge, verified through countless practical applications.
This was knowledge that could not be easily learned outside; it could only be acquired here.
He watched closely, eyes alight with scrutiny, but there was no sign of cheating.
‘Let’s see if you can decipher question 83. Can you handle the runes as well?’
Ancient magical hieroglyphs, the runes.
The problem was cleverly disguised, hiding its principles within a complex calculation.
One could not solve it without meticulously unraveling the multitude of meanings contained in a single rune.
However, since it was beyond the academy’s standard, there remained a possibility of solving it through another means.
That was the brute-force method, relying on an immense amount of calculations.
For the student, there was no choice but to take the latter route.
‘As expected, you chose calculation.’
Three hours remained until the end of the exam.
It would take at least four hours just to solve this one problem.
It would be better to give up and tackle the remaining questions for a better score.
Of course, Rockefeller had no intention of letting Hershel achieve a good grade unchallenged.
“Isn’t this problem a bit too much for someone like you? Hershel van Tenest. Still, I commend your spirit to attempt it.”
A provocation that scraped at his pride.
Hershel lifted his head.
“Why are you speaking to me when I’m trying to concentrate during the exam? Is this how a professor should behave?”
Rockefeller found himself momentarily at a loss for words at Hershel’s blunt tone.
“Ahem…”
In any case, it seemed Hershel had no intention of moving past the problem.
Bored, Rockefeller glanced around.
A satisfied smile crept onto his face at the sight of the struggling expressions of the other students.
“How delightful. We must do this more often.”
As he pondered what questions to pose for the next final exam, Hursel rose from his seat.
“I shall take my leave now.”
“…Hursel van Tenest. Are you abandoning the exam?”
“Surely not.”
With that, Hursel ascended the stairs, making his way toward the entrance.
The bespectacled man, Belman, had also risen from his seat, perhaps having completed the problems.
An hour had already slipped by.
Rockefeller scrutinized Hursel’s exam paper with a dubious expression.
Then his eyes widened in disbelief.
“Y-you solved this?”
The empty spaces on the paper were filled with incomprehensible symbols, yet the answers written were correct.
This implied that he had matched the speed of rune disassembly with a calculation that typically required four times as long.
A chill ran down Rockefeller’s spine.
“Even solving it the conventional way would take an hour. Yet he managed it with mere calculations…?”
The subsequent questions paled in comparison, hardly worth a glance.
Rockefeller stared blankly at Hursel’s back as he made his way out of the examination room, lost in thought.
He could acknowledge the academic talent.
Whether he had developed an original calculation method or not, it was worthy of high praise.
But he had not yet recognized him as a true mage.
What mattered was whether he could wield proper magic.
* * *
Knowledge of close combat or siege warfare was typically taught intensively at other academies, subjects ill-suited for an institution specializing in training Pathfinders.
Yet, they were not entirely excluded from the curriculum, as they occasionally produced officials.
Thus, there was a justification for including such topics in the exam, and it was easy to predict that Rockefeller would resort to such tricks.
However, it was not a last-minute cram; he had studied these topics in advance, allowing him to solve them with ease.
He thought it wise to have another option besides heading to the magical realm after graduation, which is why he had taken the time to study.
“Ah, my head is throbbing. That was tougher than I expected.”
“Yet you solved it rather easily, didn’t you?”
“Not the calculations, but the runes. I couldn’t decipher the annotations, so I was at a loss.”
To me, the matter felt akin to deciphering a foreign tongue for the very first time.
Had I even grasped the basics of its structure, I might have unraveled it with ease, but I had yet to study the language of runes.
Such knowledge was meant for when I would delve into the ruins of the magical realm after graduation.
It was far too early to learn now.
‘Ah, but you. If you’ve lived long enough, surely you know a bit of runes?’
‘I did know once.’
‘Have you forgotten…?’
‘It is a language long fallen into disuse. It is only natural for memories to fade.’
I had hoped against hope, yet it seemed I would have to learn the runes myself after all…
‘If you say so.’
‘W-What kind of insolent tone is that?!’
‘I don’t care. I’m off to take a nap to clear my head.’
‘The runes were already fading even then! How dare you speak of things you know nothing about during such a tumultuous time in history!!’
It was noisy.
I walked on, letting Donathan’s grumbling drift away like leaves in the wind.
But a voice from behind halted my steps.
“I have a question.”
Turning my head, I saw a bespectacled man.
“What is it that you wish to know?”
“Have you given up on the exam?”
“Then I shall ask you. If you’ve solved it all, would you believe me?”
The man adjusted his glasses with an indifferent expression.
Then, out of the blue, he posed a question about the troublesome runic problem.
“What is the answer to question 73?”
I sensed that ignoring him would only lead to him trailing after me like a persistent shadow.
With a brief sigh, I composed myself and replied.
“The type of magic is curse-related. The structure of the spell consists of three parallel lines and one series. The mana ratio is three parallel to seven series. Would that suffice as an answer?”
The man’s mouth fell slightly open, his eyes wide with surprise.
I left him behind, continuing on my path.
* * *
The next morning.
Before the bulletin board of the stronghold, all the students had gathered.
Their focus, of course, was the ranking of the first-year magic department.
Many had wagered their entire living expenses for the month.
Some had even staked their entire fortunes.
Yet those standing in the front row gaped like fish, mouths agape.
[1st Place. Belman Tol Gers.]
Why, you ask…?
[1st Place. Hessel Ben Tenest.]
Because they had come to realize they had lost their money.
“C-C-Coincidence for first place?”
They were now teetering on the edge of denial.
“Perhaps the professors made a mistake?”
“Right? Yes. There’s no other explanation. We must demand a correction immediately.”
But at that moment, a woman appeared, shattering even the slightest glimmer of hope.
“Yay!”
Atra came rushing in, her laughter ringing out as if she owned the world.
“Hessel, that guy, is the top of the magic department! Perfect score! I went to confirm it with Rockefeller myself!!”
Everyone sat down weakly, hands trembling as they faced one another.
An economic Great Depression had struck.
Desperation would drive them to beg for loans, and some might even resort to plunder.
Clap, clap.
Yet amidst this tragedy, a man stood applauding.
“I thought perhaps you had an extraordinary mind, but I never imagined it would be to this extent.”
He was Emeric, who had wagered the most coins in this gamble.
Atra spoke with a mocking tone.
“Planning to handle a lot of money, are you? Some have to offer half their earnings.”
“That’s the risk I chose to take.”
“Tch, that’s true. So what will you do with that money?”
“For now, I plan to buy equipment and challenge the Ten Trials.”
“Oh, that would be quite a sight, wouldn’t it? Shall we set the stage once more?”
“Do as you wish.”
Amidst the sorrow of hundreds, two figures beamed with wide smiles.
An unprecedented surge of capital concentration.
News spread like wildfire, wails echoing from every corner.
“Oh no! My money!”
“Ah, I even staked this month’s food expenses!”
“W-what should I do? Should I take on a commission to earn some?”
Meanwhile, Hessel observed this scene from the terrace of the Shulafe manor.
He took a sip of his drink and spoke.
“Asley. Limberton. Today is a joyous day. The number of humans crushed beneath our feet has only grown.”
Asley proudly thumped his chest with a fist.
Limberton scratched his head, a bewildered expression on his face.
“I wonder if it’s alright; it seems many have wagered all their money this time. Won’t they fall into chaos?”
“Limberton. They’ve risked their fortunes willingly. And if the economy collapses, it’s good for us. In times like this, those with capital reign supreme. Be it the Adel manor or any other.”
Hessel grinned wickedly.
Soon after, Rix and Klave approached the terrace, their voices trembling with desperation.
“H-Hessel. I’m sorry, but could you lend me some money?”
“Y-yeah… I’ll pay you back soon, just a little, please.”
Hessel narrowed his eyes.
“It’s infuriating that you’ve wagered on my failure, but fine. I’ll lend it to you. However, interest will accrue.”
Money begets money, after all.
Hessel turned his gaze away from them and looked back at the castle, which felt like a house of mourning.
‘The timing is just right.’
‘Just right? What do you mean by that?’
‘The cursed realm we must soon enter. I thought it best to go in a heightened state of awareness.’
Hessel drew the curtains, contemplating the events that lay ahead.
* * *
With only a few days left until the cursed realm practice.
Rockefeller listened to the professor’s report in his office.
“Another letter has arrived. They want to challenge their disciple.”
The Empire’s magical exploration agency, the Pathfinder, had such an ancient history that it was often embroiled in events that revealed its presence.
A noble with keen ears might have a vague understanding of it, while a select few were privy to the top-secret information that resources beyond measure lay dormant deep within the magical realm.
Naturally, this news had long since reached the ears of foreign kings who held a keen interest in the magical domain.
“The Wandering Band, huh…”
A group imitating the Empire’s Pathfinder, created by the King of Bellam.
Perhaps the foreign king did not wish for the secrets of the magical realm to spread widely, for they were not an institution publicly declared.
Yet, like the Frost Heart, they too had clandestine training grounds to nurture their own Wandering Band.
Rockefeller laughed, as if it were all a jest.
“Those who don’t know their place are still flaunting their bravado this year.”
The Frost Heart was a place of education for nobles.
In contrast, those others were merely a gathering of vagabonds, whose disappearance would matter little.
Compared to the systematic education of families or those who gained admission solely through raw talent, they were pitifully inadequate.
“…Will you accept the challenge?”
“It’s a fortunate turn of events. It’s something we must face eventually. Let’s inform them of the practice location.”
The practice about to commence was a battle between those who must kill to survive and those who must kill such individuals to live.
The test for the fledgling Wandering Band was to return with the head of a Frost Heart student.