NOVEL NEXT Chapter 2: The Exam That Decides Fate
After finishing breakfast, Ankush Halder walked back to his room, deep in thought. His room—both a study and a bedroom—felt eerily familiar yet undeniably different. His sturdy wooden desk, high-performance gaming PC, and the soft hum of the cooling fans greeted him as usual, yet the bookshelves filled with Magic Engineering, Warrior Skills, and Alchemy Essentials now carried an unshakable presence in his new reality.
Taking a deep breath, he sat down in front of his computer, switched it on, and instinctively began browsing the net. He needed to learn more about this world, to truly understand where he stood. His fingers glided over the keyboard, pulling up information about the Awakening Dungeon, monster classifications, and even the history of the 1950 invasion.
As he scrolled through the numerous search results, a particular headline caught his attention:
"Pre-Awakening Examination: The First and Only Chance to Change Your Fate!"
His eyes narrowed as he clicked on the link, and within moments, detailed information filled the screen.
The Pre-Awakening Examination was an absolute, system-enforced test that every eighteen-year-old had to take before entering their Awakening Dungeon. It was not a human-made system, nor was it something controlled by governments or organizations. Like the Awaken Dungeon itself, this test was a phenomenon created by the Universal System, ensuring fairness among all candidates.
Every school had access to an Exam Dungeon, a separate dimension where the test was conducted. The rules were simple but merciless:
- Each participant had exactly three hours to complete the test.
- Inside, every student from the same school would enter the same Exam Dungeon, but their questions would be independent.
- The test consisted of multiple-choice questions (MCQs), beginning at an easy level but increasing in difficulty with every correct answer.
- If a participant answered a single question incorrectly, they were immediately expelled from the dungeon, their final score locked in place.
- The number of correct answers determined the amount of free attribute points they received upon Awakening.
The reward system was what truly shocked him:
- Questions 1–10: +1 free attribute point per correct answer
- Bonus: After answering all ten correctly, the participant could choose an F- level talent.
- Questions 11–20: +2 free attribute points per correct answer
- Bonus: Answering all twenty granted an F-level talent.
- Questions 21–30: +4 free attribute points per correct answer
- Bonus: Answering all thirty granted an F+ level talent.
- Beyond 30: Rewards continued doubling (8 per question, 16 per question, etc.), making the upper tiers near impossible to reach.
Ankush's eyes widened as he read the final line:
"If you answer all questions correctly, the rewards are limitless. However, no one has ever cleared more than 20 questions in history."
His mind reeled. So this was why ordinary people still had hope—this exam allowed them to fight against their predetermined fate. Even someone born without riches or privilege could increase their Awakening potential by performing well in this test.
But… only twenty questions? The global record was only 20?!
He had expected someone, somewhere, to have at least reached 30 or 40 questions. But if even the wealthiest, most prepared students from top countries hadn't surpassed twenty, how difficult could these questions be?
His grip on the mouse tightened.
This was it—his chance.
This exam, beyond anything else, was his opportunity to rewrite his future.
Ankush exhaled slowly, forcing himself to calm down. He quickly typed in another search:
"Previous Year's Questions – Pre-Awakening Exam"
A long list of articles, discussions, and analysis reports appeared. However, to his surprise, only fourteen questions were available publicly. The rest remained unknown.
Ankush Halder scrolled carefully through the forum discussions. Students from previous years had uploaded their experiences, debating strategies and difficulty levels. Most of them agreed that the first few questions lulled participants into a false sense of security, making them think the exam was easy—before ruthlessly ramping up in complexity.
He found an official government-issued document listing the available fourteen questions. His hand hovered over the mouse as he prepared to click.
Something inside him felt tense—anticipatory.
With a deep breath, he clicked the link.
The screen changed instantly, revealing the first fourteen questions of previous exams.
Ankush's eyes widened.
His breath hitched.
His heart began pounding violently.
Shock flickered across his face as he read them carefully.