Invincible
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#86
🕑 Added 2024-08-27 06:48:50 +0000 UTCWritten Exam (2)
The exam began, and the sound of scribbling filled the room. But within ten seconds, it fell silent. The only thing most students had managed to write was their name. The first question left them stumped, making it impossible to confidently put pen to paper.
[Describe the methods of preemptively identifying enemy magical abilities.]
Despite training as pathfinders, the first question was about human combat tactics, specifically melee combat, which left the students bewildered.
“Professor, I think there’s something wrong with the exam questions.”
“What’s wrong with them?”
“They’re including issues that aren’t particularly important.”
The professor cleared his throat before responding.
“Military tactics and personal combat skills were part of the curriculum. These are mandatory subjects in other academies, so it’s not strange for them to be included.”
“But this academy teaches how to fight monsters in the Dungeon, not primarily for military ranks.”
“The point is, it was part of the lessons. These will all be useful eventually, so stop complaining and get to work.”
The professor's tone was firm. The exam questions were not just difficult but seemed to have shifted the subject entirely. The students, with no other choice, turned their test papers hoping for easier questions.
Rockefeller nodded slightly at the professor’s answer and then glanced at the man with glasses. From the start of the exam until now, his pen had never stopped moving.
‘Belman Tol Gers…?’
His magic skills were average, but his academic prowess was extraordinary, almost professor-level at a young age. If not for his family's circumstances, he would have attended the prestigious "Wisdom" academy as a scholarship student.
‘He might just score perfectly.’
Rockefeller’s eyes filled with anticipation, only to be interrupted by an irritable voice from below.
“Professor, why are you only watching me?”
Standing before Hersel’s desk, Rockefeller replied with irritation.
“…Be quiet and focus.”
“Seriously, just like during the entrance exam.”
Muttering, Hersel resumed writing. Rockefeller found him more annoying than usual, as his speed in solving the questions was astonishing.
Scribble, scribble.
It was as if he was copying from an answer sheet.
‘Belman is understandable, but this kid...? These questions were rarely covered, yet he’s...’
The academy’s textbooks were more specialized than the general ones, containing distilled knowledge from countless real-world experiences. This knowledge wasn’t easily accessible outside, meaning Hersel must have learned it here. Despite Rockefeller’s keen observation for any cheating, none was found.
‘Let’s see how he handles question 83, the runic script problem.’
Ancient magical hieroglyphics, runes, were subtly embedded in the calculation problem. Only by fully deciphering the runes, which contained multiple meanings in a single sentence, could one solve it. However, since this was beyond the academy’s typical level, there was an alternative—solving it through sheer computational effort.
‘He’s going for the calculations.’
With three hours remaining, the problem alone would take four hours to solve. It would be wiser to skip it and focus on the other questions for a better score. But Rockefeller had no intention of letting Hersel achieve a good grade.
“Isn’t this problem too much for someone like you, Hersel ben Tenest? I’ll commend you for your spirit, though.”
A provoking insult targeting his pride. Hersel looked up.
“Why are you distracting me during the exam, Professor? Is this even allowed?”
Rockefeller was taken aback by Hersel’s curt response.
“Hmm…”
Still, Hersel showed no intention of moving on from the problem. Bored, Rockefeller glanced around. The groaning faces of students brought a satisfied smile to his face.
‘Enjoyable. I should do this more often.’
While pondering the questions for the next final exam, Hersel stood up.
“I’m done here.”
“Hersel ben Tenest, are you giving up?”
“No way.”
Hersel said, climbing the stairs to the entrance. Belman also stood, having finished his exam.
An hour had already passed. Rockefeller suspiciously examined Hersel’s test paper, and his eyes widened.
‘He solved it?’
Though the paper was covered in incomprehensible symbols, the answers were correct. This meant he had matched the speed of deciphering runes through raw calculations, a feat that sent shivers down Rockefeller’s spine.
‘It takes an hour even with the proper method. But he did it with calculations alone…?’
Compared to this, the rest of the questions were insignificant. Rockefeller, lost in thought, watched Hersel leave the exam hall.
His academic talent was undeniable. Whether he developed his own calculation method or whatever, it was impressive. But he still didn’t see Hersel as a true mage. The important thing was whether he could properly wield magic.
***
Knowledge of melee combat and siege warfare was typically emphasized in other academies, not institutions focused on training pathfinders. However, they weren't entirely excluded here since some graduates did end up in government roles. Anticipating Rockefeller’s trickery, I had already prepared for this.
The exam material wasn’t crammed at the last minute. I had been studying these subjects in advance, thinking it might be useful to have another option besides just heading into the Dungeon after graduation.
“Ugh, my head hurts. That was harder than I thought.”
- For something you solved easily.
‘The runic problem was tough. I couldn’t understand the annotations.’
The problem felt like reading a foreign language. If I had any basic understanding of runic structure, it would have been easier. But I hadn’t studied runes yet, as that knowledge is mainly for excavating ruins after graduation.
‘But you, Donatan, lived a long time. Don’t you know runes?’
- I used to.
‘Forgotten, huh...’
- It’s an ancient language. It’s natural for it to fade from memory.
I had hoped he could help, but it looks like I’ll have to learn runes myself.
‘Typical.’
- How dare you speak to me like that!
‘Whatever. I’m going to take a nap.’
- Runes were already disappearing in my time! You don’t even know the historical context!
Ignoring Donatan’s grumbling, I continued walking. Suddenly, a voice stopped me.
“I have a question.”
Turning around, I saw the man with glasses.
“What is it?”
“Did you give up on the exam?”
“Let me ask you. If I said I finished, would you believe me?”
Adjusting his glasses, he suddenly asked about the runic problem that had given me a headache.
“What’s the answer to question 73?”
Ignoring him might have made him pester me, so I sighed and answered.
“The type of magic is a curse. The formula has three parallel lines and one series line, with a mana ratio of 3:7. Is that sufficient?”
His eyes widened in surprise. Leaving him behind, I walked away.
***
The next morning, all the students gathered in front of the notice board. Their interest was obviously in the first-year magic department rankings. Many had bet all their living expenses for the month, some even their entire savings.
Those at the front were gaping like fish.
[1st Place, Belman Tol Gers]
Because…
[1st Place, Hersel ben Tenest]
They realized they had lost their money.
“Co-co-first place?”
They fell into denial.
“The professors must have made a mistake.”
“Right? That has to be it. We should demand a correction.”
But just then, a woman arrived to shatter any remaining hope.
“Yes!”
Athera ran up, laughing and shouting triumphantly.
“Hersel got first in the magic department! I confirmed with Rockefeller that he scored perfectly!”
Everyone stared at their trembling hands before collapsing. It was an economic depression. There would be desperate pleas for loans and even theft.
Clap, clap.
But amidst this tragedy, one man clapped.
“I thought you had a brilliant mind, but I didn’t expect this.”
It was Emeric, the biggest bettor. Athera mocked him.
“Going to make a lot of money, huh? Some of us have to give up half our profits.”
“It was a risk worth taking.”
“True. So, what will you do with the money?”
“First, I’ll buy equipment and challenge the Ten Stars.”
“That’ll be something to see. Maybe I’ll set up a betting pool.”
“Do as you wish.”
In a sea of despair, two people laughed. The unprecedented capital shift caused wailing throughout the academy.
“Oh no, my money!”
“I bet even my food expenses for the month.”
“What should I do? Should I take on a quest to earn money?”
Meanwhile, Hersel observed the scene from the Schlaphe Hall terrace, sipping his tea.
“Aslay, Limberton, today is a joyous day. More people are beneath us now.”
Aslay proudly pounded his chest. Limberton scratched his head in confusion.
“A lot of people seem to have bet everything they had. Is it okay?”
“Limberton, they took the risk. If the economy collapses, that’s good for us. The one with capital is king. Even against Adelle Hall.”
Hersel laughed wickedly. Ricks and Gravel came to the terrace, asking for help with tearful voices.
“Hersel, can you lend us some money?”
“Yeah... We’ll pay you back soon.”
Hersel narrowed his eyes.
“It’s annoying that you bet against me, but fine. I’ll lend you money. But with interest.”
Money begets money. Hersel turned his gaze back to the gloomy castle.
‘The timing is perfect.’
- Perfect for what?
‘For the upcoming Dungeon expedition. It’s good to be on edge.’
Thinking about future events, Hersel closed the curtain.
With the Dungeon expedition approaching, Rockefeller listened to a professor’s report in his office.
“We received another letter. They want a match against our students.”
Pathfinders, the empire’s Dungeon exploration organization, had such a long history that it often attracted attention. Some nobles knew vague details, while a few were aware of the priceless resources hidden deep in the Dungeon.
Naturally, this information had reached the ears of a foreign king.
“A roaming band…?”
The king of Bellam’s imitation of the empire’s Pathfinders, the roaming band. They didn’t want the secrets of the Dungeon widely known, so they didn’t announce the organization publicly. But they had a training school for their roaming band, just like Frost Heart.
Rockefeller laughed derisively.
“Overconfident nobodies. They’re challenging us again this year.”
Frost Heart was an educational institution for nobles. In contrast, the roaming band’s training school was for vagrants. Compared to the systematic education and pure talent at Frost Heart, they were pathetic.
“Shall we accept the challenge?”
“This is good timing. They’ll be informed of the training location.”
The upcoming training would be a battle for survival. The roaming band’s test was to bring back the head of a Frost Heart student.
