stonecrandall Chapter 265: Mid-Term Exam [1]
Chapter 265: Mid-Term Exam [1]
The week evaporated into a brutal, agonizing blur of late-night cram sessions and high-strung panic.
The pressure pressing down on the first-year division was almost suffocating.
Everyone was out for blood, desperate to score high enough on the mid-terms to crack into the coveted top ten rankings.
Securing a top spot meant access to advanced libraries, and the undivided attention of wealthy noble sponsors.
And naturally, the powerhouses currently sitting in those top spots had absolutely no intention of letting their dominance slip without a fight.
The training halls had been packed to the brim every single night, echoing with the sounds of exploding mana and clashing steel.
But despite the overwhelming tension, phase one was finally over.
When Professor Vance had officially called time on the grueling six-hour written exam that morning, a collective, profound sigh of relief had physically shaken the lecture hall.
My hand was still faintly cramping from writing out three pages of complex thermal-decay formulas, but I had easily secured a near-perfect score without even needing to overly rely on my interface.
Now, phase two was beginning.
We were standing outside the massive iron doors of the primary training hall, the crisp morning air doing nothing to cool the nervous sweat of the hundreds of students gathered in the courtyard.
The faculty was finalizing the deployment roster inside. Once those doors opened, we would be assigned our squads of four and instantly transported to the Obsidian Woods.
Kyle was practically vibrating out of his boots, shifting his weight from side to side like a caged animal.
"I swear, if they put me on a team with a bunch of nerdy scholars who don’t know how to swing a sword, I’m going to just leave them to the dire-wolves," Kyle muttered, aggressively cracking his knuckles.
Tobias, standing perfectly upright with his hands resting elegantly on his cane, shot him a look of absolute, refined disdain.
"And if they pair me with a group of primitive, meat-headed brawlers who lack the mental capacity to formulate a basic tactical perimeter, I will personally feed them to the dire-wolves myself."
"Both of you shut up," Sira groaned, massaging her temples. "My brain is still bleeding from that trick question about localized gravity wells. If I have to listen to you two bicker in the woods for forty-eight hours, I’m popping my emergency flare in the first five minutes."
I just stood there, tuning out their usual chaotic banter, keeping my eyes fixed on the heavy iron doors of the hall.
Then, a familiar warmth pressed against my left side.
Two small hands seamlessly slipped around my arm, locking securely into place.
"You think we’ll be in the same team?"
I glanced down. Emma was looking up at me, her bright blue eyes wide and hopeful, a perfectly sweet, innocent smile resting on her lips.
I didn’t flinch, but my jaw tightened just a fraction. Ever since that conversation in the corridor a week ago, this had become her new, unbreakable routine.
Whenever we were standing in a group, walking to class, or sitting in the dining hall, she would effortlessly bypass my personal space and latch onto my arm.
To the rest of the world, she just looked like a cheerful, overly affectionate friend.
But I could feel the sheer, underlying intensity of her grip. It was almost like territorial.
"The assignments are completely randomized by the administration’s sorting artifact," I told her, keeping my voice perfectly level.
"The statistical probability of all of us ending up in the exact same squad of four out of three hundred students is incredibly low."
Emma’s sweet smile didn’t waver even a millimeter, though her fingers tightened around my sleeve just a fraction more.
"Well," she hummed softly, leaning her head lightly against my shoulder. "I guess we’ll just have to hope we get lucky, right?"
Standing a few feet away, Sira rolled her eyes.
"Ugh, please," She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Get a room, you two lovebirds."
Kyle immediately let out a loud, exasperated groan, waving his hands in the air.
"Sira, are you blind? Jin is already engaged to someone else!"
Sira just tilted her head, looking at the towering swordsman like he was completely idiotic.
"So?"
Kyle blinked. His face twisted into a mask of pure confusion.
"What do you mean, so? He’s engaged! Do you not understand what that word means?"
"I know exactly what it means, Kyle," Sira deadpanned, flicking a stray strand of hair out of her face.
"But Jin is a noble. It’s completely normal for noble households to have multiple wives. Even my older brother has three."
"She is statistically correct," Tobias stated.
"Noble lineages require extensive alliances. My father currently has seven wives. And I am already formally engaged to three different women myself."
Kyle’s jaw literally dropped to the cobblestones.
He stared at Tobias, then at Sira, and finally back at me. His entire worldview, built on the simple logic of a commoner, completely and violently short-circuited.
He looked like he was about to faint from the sheer absurdity of aristocratic marriage politics.
Before Kyle could even find the words to process the fact that Tobias of all people had three fiancées, the massive iron doors of the training hall let out a loud, grinding groan.
The heavy doors swung wide open, and Professor Aldwin stepped out onto the top of the stone stairs.
He didn’t bother with a warm greeting. He swept his gaze over the tense crowd of first-years.
"Listen closely, because I will only say this once," Aldwin barked, his voice carrying the sharp crack of a whip.
"Your objective in the Obsidian Woods is absolute. Secure the faculty tokens. Survive the environment. Outmaneuver your peers. For the next forty-eight hours, the Academy’s safety nets are lifted. If you hesitate, you will fail. If you show weakness, your fellow students will exploit it. The sorting artifact has finalized your squads. When I call your names, step forward and proceed to the teleportation arrays."
Aldwin raised a glowing runic slate, reading off the randomized rosters.
The sorting was ruthless and entirely apathetic to our personal preferences.
Within the first ten minutes, Sira and Tobias were called up for Squad Seven, paired with a twitchy wind-mage named Elian and a heavy-shield bearer named Cora.
"If either of you slows me down, I will personally use you as bait," Sira cheerfully threatened her new, terrified teammates as they walked toward the arrays. Tobias just sighed, already massaging his temples at the sheer lack of tactical synergy.
I kept my eyes on the slate, waiting for the inevitable headache.
"Squad Twelve," Aldwin finally called out. "Kyle. Emma. Jin Raith."
Kyle instantly let out a massive, booming cheer, pumping his fist into the air.
"Yes! The core trio survives!"
Emma didn’t cheer, but the sweet, completely flawless smile on her face practically radiated triumph.
Her fingers, still tightly locked around my left arm, squeezed just a fraction in victory. She had gotten exactly what she wanted.
But Professor Aldwin wasn’t finished.
"...and Adrian Westmore," Aldwin concluded.
My mind spiked with a mild annoyance warning.
From the far side of the courtyard, a figure seamlessly detached himself from a group of other nobles.
Adrian Westmore walked toward us with the lazy, effortless stride of someone who had never had to work for a single thing in his entire life.
His uniform was impeccably tailored, his sandy hair perfectly swept back, and his smirk was dripping with aristocratic arrogance.
He then stopped a few feet away from our group, resting his hand casually on the pommel of his expensive rapier. He ignored Kyle entirely, locking his pale eyes directly onto me.
"Well, well," Adrian drawled, his smirk widening into a thoroughly obnoxious grin.
"Long time no see, Raith. Who would have thought the sorting artifact had such a twisted sense of humor?"
I didn’t react. I just met his gaze with absolute, dead-eyed indifference.
Adrian’s eyes then drifted downward, landing squarely on Emma, who was still firmly clinging to my arm. He looked her up and down, taking in her standard-issue uniform and let out a short, insulting scoff.
"Though I gotta say, Raith," Adrian chuckled, his tone thick with condescension, "your taste in women has certainly taken a drastic dive into the mud. A commoner?"
He leaned forward slightly, his eyes flashing with mocking cruelty.
"What happened? Got bored of Isabelle that easily?"
The courtyard around us seemed to instantly drop ten degrees.
Kyle’s booming excitement vanished, his hand instinctively dropping toward the hilt of his sword at the blatant insult.
But I didn’t look at Adrian. I looked down.
Emma’s sweet smile was completely gone. Her bright blue eyes had darkened into something profoundly cold and unreadable. And the nails currently digging into my arm were no longer just a territorial claim, they felt like they were ready to draw blood.
Then I just raised a single eyebrow, looking at Adrian like he was a completely irrelevant, slightly annoying variable.
"Oh... I see. You’re still jealous because your ex-girlfriend had a courteous dance with me at a public event instead of you?"
Adrian’s arrogant smirk instantly faltered.
I tilted my head to the side, letting out a casual, dismissive shrug.
"If only you weren’t busying yourself chasing after other women, maybe she wouldn’t have left you in the first place."
Kyle, who had been seconds away from drawing his sword, let out a loud, completely unapologetic snort of laughter, quickly covering his mouth with his hand.
Adrian’s face flushed a violent, ugly shade of red.
He took a heavy half-step forward, his jaw tightly clenched.
For a split second, it looked like he was actually stupid enough to draw his rapier right there in the middle of the courtyard.
But with Professor Aldwin standing just fifty feet away on the stone steps, Adrian knew he’d be instantly expelled from the mid-terms before they even began.
He ground his teeth together so hard a muscle popped in his jaw, glaring at me with absolute murder in his pale eyes.
But he didn’t say a single word. He just stood there, silently fuming, completely shut down.
At my side, the terrifying, sharp pressure digging into my arm suddenly eased. Emma’s nails slowly uncurled from my jacket. The cold, unreadable darkness in her eyes vanished entirely, instantly replaced by her usual bright, sweet demeanor.
She let out a soft, highly satisfied little hum, resting her head lightly against my shoulder once again.
"Alright, listen up!" Professor Aldwin’s booming voice cut through the courtyard, completely ignoring the localized drama happening in our squad. "The teleportation arrays are fully primed. Squads One through Fifteen, step onto the primary circle. Once you materialize in the Obsidian Woods, your forty-eight hours begin immediately."