The exam hall was suffocatingly quiet, the kind of silence that pressed on the ears until even the scratch of a quill seemed deafening. Rows upon rows of long desks stretched across the chamber, magical wards shimmering faintly at the edges to prevent even a whisper of cheating. At the front, the supervisor stood like a sentinel, hands folded neatly behind his back, sharp eyes sweeping across the students as though he could pierce straight into their minds.
"This is your written evaluation," his voice rang out, clipped and cold. "It will determine your eligibility to advance into the second year. You may begin."
A wave of tension rippled through the room as quills touched parchment.
Alex sat upright, calm on the surface but keenly alert underneath. His strokes were precise, deliberate, every line of ink carefully measured. The questions were broad and demanding: the founding of the kingdom, the flow of mana theory, the laws binding noble and commoner alike. His mind worked like a blade, cutting clean through each one.
Then he turned to the next page.
Question One: Describe the events of the Battle of Iron Pass, and identify any inconsistencies found in the official records of the seven Dukedoms.
Alex's heart gave a thump. The neat, deliberate script was unmistakably Professor Caelum Dareth's. So the professor really did want them to notice… He kept his face carefully neutral as he lowered his quill, but the spark of realization burned sharp inside him. It wasn't just about memorizing dates and victories. This was a test of perception, of courage to question the truth.
He glanced only once at the others. Riven wrote with reckless speed, his quill flying across the page in flamboyant strokes. Saphira breezed through, her writing neat and elegant, confident as always. Edrin hunched over his desk, nervous at first but steadying as the answers poured out. Kael was solid and disciplined, each word grounded and thoughtful.
None of them seemed to carry the same flicker of recognition he felt. To them, it was just another question. They were writing the discrepancies they had uncovered in the library that day—the Veymore contradiction against the other Dukedoms—without realizing the deeper weight behind it.
Around them, the pressure mounted. Some students chewed their lips raw, others dropped their quills entirely and buried their faces in their hands. The exam wasn't just parchment and ink—it was their future pressing down on them.
Hours slipped by, marked only by the steady tick of the enchanted clock at the far end of the hall.
Finally, the supervisor's voice cut through the suffocating silence.
"Time."
Quills dropped. A collective exhale swept through the students like a wave. Papers fluttered as the supervisor collected them with a sweep of his hand, the stack forming neatly at the front.
The gang filed out together, exhaustion etched across their faces, relief threading through their silence. They had survived the written ordeal.
Outside, Riven stretched lazily, flashing a grin. "Well, Cupcake, if I failed that, the whole academy might as well pack up and shut down."
Alex shook his head, though a smile tugged faintly at his lips. "Save your bragging for the practicals. That's where it will really count."
The group exchanged weary but knowing looks. The written exam had tested their minds. The next trial would test their mana, their bodies, their will.
And that challenge was looming closer than ever.