As promised, Professor Nero began the mid-terms with the theory exams, that delightful exercise in brain torture disguised as education. The first set of papers was handed out with an almost ceremonial solemnity, and the room quickly descended into a reverent, paper-rustling, pen-scratching silence.
I flipped the page, scanning the questions with a critical eye.
Mana theory? Standard. Political science regarding the intricacies of the noble houses? tedious, but manageable. Beast analysis? I'd read three different treatises on this specific topic last week.
These weren't the straightforward "list three species" kind of questions. They were designed to break you, demanding not just memorization but a fundamental understanding of the writer's cruel, creative soul. To the average student, this was a nightmare.
To me, it was just a matter of recall.
I penned down the answer to the first question, my hand moving fluidly across the page. Then the second. Then the third.
I paused.
