It was clear, this is how the entrance exam should be conducted.
Thousands of participants sat neatly at their desks, all focused on the sheets of paper in front of them.
The air was filled with the rustling of pages, the scratching of pens, and the soft murmur of concentration.
After the complete chaos of the previous two exams, the third exam felt very peaceful.
The questions on the paper were straightforward, not too difficult even for a child who had just graduated from junior high school.
The participants recognized that the questions weren't particularly challenging.
In fact, compared to other magic academy entrance exams, which were notorious for their complexity and mind-bending questions, this seemed almost too easy.
The format of the questions was simple: 100 multiple-choice questions, each with four possible answers.
The participants moved through them quickly, some even feeling a sense of relief.
The questions covered basic magical theory, history, and a few logic puzzles, nothing too taxing for those who had prepared.
But on the last sheet, the one containing feedback for the examiner, that's where the real battlefield lay.
One of the questions on this sheet was, 'Of all the questions, which one did you find the most difficult? Please provide your reasons in this column.'
This seemed innocent enough, but those with insider knowledge knew there was more to it.
To score well in the 'wisdom', participants had to be able to analyze the question they chose.
It was not just about choosing a question and providing a reason. If that were all, it would be too easy.
The trick to scoring well in the 'wisdom' was that only one question out of the 100 had bonus points.
How would participants know which question had the points?
They wouldn't.
The answer was a cruel joke: no one knew, because the question with the fewest selections by participants was the one with the bonus points.
It was a psychological game designed to test the participants' intuition, wisdom, and luck.
"Muahaha!"
A sudden, sinister laugh broke the silence.
It was Oz, sitting at the far end of the hall. His laughter echoed, causing heads to turn and eyes to widen.
Oz's evil laugh echoed among the participants who were concentrating on answering the questions.
—Finally, I understand… that I don't understand anything!
Oz thought to himself, his internal monologue filled with both frustration and a strange sort of acceptance.
Even though he had studied under his master's guidance for three years, Oz didn't understand the theory of magic at all.
In this world, magic was akin to civil engineering.
There were countless theories, equations, and formulas to be learned, each one more complex than the last.
If one wanted to create new magic, it required years of study and experimentation, something Oz had always struggled with.
That's why Oz didn't bother and just used the magic formulas he already knew.
Why reinvent the wheel when the spells he knew worked just fine?
At least for this written exam, he only needed to memorize the questions and answers from the document provided by Sarah.
His biggest problem now was the feedback section. Because the nature of this third exam was unpredictable.
Neither participants nor examiner knew what was going to happen.
Even if someone used divination magic, if everyone chose the correct answer, the future would change.
The exam was designed to be a trap, a puzzle with no clear solution.
Oz was still not skilled in using divination magic.
He had tried it before, many times, but it always ended in failure.
The last time he tried it, he ended up falling asleep because there was nothing to see.
—The next magic I must master is divination magic!
Oz resolved, his mind made up. He knew that without it, he would always be at a disadvantage.
—Hmm, divination. Oh, right!
Oz suddenly exclaimed, his eyes lighting up as an idea struck him.
—There's something similar on Earth! The most popular divination among students!
Oz numbered the six sides of his pencil.
Then, he threw his pencil three times because this was the third exam.
It bounced across the desk, clattering against the wood before coming to a stop each time.
The numbers he got were 5, 2, and then 3. And if all multiplied, the result is 30.
—So I'll choose question number 30!
—Who cares, I'll just rewrite the question in the feedback.
"Muahaha!"
*****
In another part of the stadium, a student was meticulously filling out the feedback sheet. This student was David.
Since the tragic death of his parents, David had been raised by a distant relative who had claimed to be a close friend of his father.
This man was a teacher, a master, and the closest thing to a father David had ever known.
Under his master's guidance, David dedicated himself to studying magic. His days were spent in the dusty halls of the village library, poring over magic texts and tomes.
His dream was clear: to become a grand wizard, a title that carried not just prestige, but the power to uplift the downtrodden village where he had grown up.
One fateful day, after returning from a hunt in the nearby forest, David's world crumbled.
His village lay in ruins, consumed by flames. The charred remains of homes and the lifeless bodies of the villagers greeted him—a sight that would be forever etched in his memory.
Among the fallen was his master, who with his last breath, had whispered a final instruction: to travel to Mistheaven, where the secrets of his parents' past were hidden.
A classic protagonist's origin story, full of loss and a thirst for vengeance.
As David's hand flew over the feedback sheet, a particular question caught his eye.
—Question number 31… it's identical to something my master once asked me.
David thought, his pulse quickening as memories of his lessons flooded back.
*****
Meanwhile, in another section of the stadium, Andrei sat hunched over his desk, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. His mind was in turmoil, wracked with anxiety.
—How could this be happening? How could I, Andrei De Bolkonsky, be struggling with these questions?
The thought gnawed at him, amplifying his panic. Andrei was a young man of privilege.
He had received copies of the exam questions. But now, in the heat of the moment, the answers that had seemed so clear were slipping from his grasp.
—Was it A? Or was it B? Ugh, to hell with it! I'll just pick D!
Andrei's frustration peaked, and he angrily circled an answer.
The more he tried to recall the answers, the more his mind clouded, the pressure of the exam taking its toll.
His private tutor had drilled these questions into him, warning him of their importance. But Andrei, arrogant and dismissive, had brushed off the warnings.
In his mind, the written exams were mere formalities. As long as he could secure bonus points from the five hidden aspects and collect the bonus coins, the third exam seemed inconsequential.
But reality had proven otherwise.
In the first two exams, not only had Andrei failed to earn a single coin, but he had also encountered a dark wizard who had left him dazed and lost, forcing the Inquisitors to intervene and rescue him.
By sheer luck, Andrei had scraped through the first exam, but the second had been a disaster.
The green card he had relied on malfunctioned, leading to his elimination. Now, he was on the brink of failure.
—This is a nightmare!
Desperation had set in as he reluctantly chose number 32 to write in the feedback section, hoping that it might somehow save him.
*****
In another corner, Sam was anything but focused on the exam. Instead, his thoughts were consumed by one thing: food.
—Thinking always makes me hungry. I wonder if there'll be something to eat after this?
Sam mused, his stomach growling slightly. He was a simple soul, not particularly adept at analysis, but blessed with an incredible memory.
While others spent hours agonizing over the material, Sam had a knack for memorizing everything with ease.
Thanks to Oz, who had provided him with a comprehensive study guide, Sam had breezed through the exam.
With a photographic memory, he had filled in the 100 questions in just 20 minutes, scarcely needing to pause for thought.
For the feedback section, Oz had given him simple instructions: 'Just fill it in with your favorite number.'
—I'll go with number 33. It's always been lucky for me!"
Sam grinned as he scribbled the number down, completely unfazed by the pressure around him.
*****
*Ding* *Dong* *Ding* *Dong* *Ding* *Dong*
[Time's up! Even if you stare at it for a day, the answer won't magically appear.]
With a snap of her fingers, the headmaster, made all the answer sheets rise into the air.
The papers floated like a flock of birds, flying towards several enchanted chests.
Each chest was cast with Charm Magic. This spell ensured that no one could tamper with the contents, safeguarding the integrity of the exam.
"No!"
"I'm not done yet!"
Cries of dismay erupted from the students, their voices echoing through the vast stadium.
Some were resigned to their fate, others were visibly angry, a few even on the verge of tears.
But Oz?
Oz was completely lost in thought, overwhelmed by his feelings of love.
Ignoring the complexities of analysis, he had simply selected number 30 and copied the question into the feedback sheet.
But he hadn't stopped there. With a mischievous smile, Oz had filled the remaining space with a love poem.
Though he hadn't mentioned any names, anyone who read it would instantly recognize who it was meant for.
—It's been ages since I've had a written exam like this!
Oz thought to himself, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips.
The last time he had experienced such tension was back on Earth, during the competition to get into a top university.
[The fourth exam will begin in thirty minutes. Prepare yourselves mentally and physically, for the final test will be a duel between two participants.]
*Murmur*
A wave of unease rippled through the crowd of participants.
[Also, don't worry—if you accidentally kill or seriously hurt your opponent, you won't be held accountable. We'll take care of it. If you're scared, just surrender.]
The headmaster spoke with a playful tone. She seemed to be in a good mood, enjoying the situation.
The announcement had sent a shiver down their spines. Many weren't confident in their combat abilities and feared they wouldn't stand a chance in a duel.
Their faces reflected their inner turmoil, a mixture of doubt and dread.
Moreover, many of them had been worn down by the first three exams.
The realization that their skills were lacking had sapped their spirit, leaving them feeling defeated before the duel had even begun.
The duel had been strategically placed as the last exam for a reason.
It was designed to test not only their magic prowess but also their ability to analyze and adapt to their opponents' strengths and weaknesses.
By now, they should have a good sense of who the strongest contenders were, allowing them to plan their strategies.
"Oz, Oz, Oz."
"Yeah, I'm here."
Sam came sprinting toward Oz, his face beaming with excitement, practically bouncing with each step.
"All the material you gave me was on the test!"
Though Oz was aware of this, he hadn't quite managed to remember all the answers himself.
"So, which number did you choose for the feedback?"
"I chose number 33, just like you told me—because it's my favorite number!"
Oz had always been curious why 33 was Sam's favorite number, but he knew that asking might lead to a bizarre explanation he wasn't ready for.
Still, his curiosity got the better of him.
"Why is 33 your favorite number?"
"Of course, because we eat three times a day, and I eat two portions each time. So, 33!"
Yep, exactly what Oz expected. Sam's thoughts rarely strayed far from food.
"Sam, do you still have plenty of starlight left?"
"Yep. I've still got 95% left."
Oz's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
—Did he really pass the first exam using only 5% of his starlight?
Oz remembered that during the first exam, Sam had spent most of the time sprinting towards the final gate, ignoring all distractions.
"Listen, Sam. During the duel, don't hold back. Use all your starlight at once and concentrate it all into a single Aeris Telum."
"Alright, Oz. I'll give it my all."
In the fourth exam, participants were supposed to earn 'creativity' points by either casting as many different spells as possible or by applying existing magic in clever, unexpected ways.
But for those who lacked of creativity, brute force was a viable alternative—defeat your opponent and ignore the bonus points altogether.
Given that the key to passing this exam was to win the duel, Oz had his doubts about Sam's chances.
That's why the all-out attack strategy seemed like the best approach for him.
If Sam could overwhelm his opponent with a concentrated blast of magic, he might just pull off a victory.
As for Oz, things weren't looking much better. His spell arsenal was heavily skewed—almost 70% of what he knew was Sorcery, and only 30% was Magic. He couldn't use Sorcery in the duel.
To make matters worse, Oliver's starlight reserves were critically low, down to just 20%.
"If only I could use American magic. That would make things a lot easier."
Sam's eyes widened with interest.
"What's American magic, Oz?"
"Oh, that? It's the most powerful magic from where I come from. Some of it's even on par with the headmaster's Mystic Artifacts."
"Whoa! You have to tell me all about it later!"
—If I told him the truth about my world being non-magical, he'd probably think it was just some strange, fictional place.
*****
Meanwhile, in the staff room, Oz had become the center of attention for an entirely different reason.
"Bwahahahaha."
For over ten minutes, Professor Dexter had been laughing uncontrollably, unable to catch his breath.
"In all my years working with the headmaster, not a single soul has ever been crazy enough to fall in love with her. Bwahahahaha."
The room was filled with laughter, as the professors took turns reading the answer sheet that had caused such a stir. And of course, it belonged to none other than Oz.
"Ah, your golden hair shines like the rays of the morning sun. It said. Bwahahaha."
Professor Dexter still couldn't stop laughing.
"Hiahiahia. We'd better keep this a secret from the headmaster. If she finds out, that kid is as good as dead. Hiahiahia."
Professor Percival Glyde was a man of unyielding seriousness.
In his 50 years of teaching at Mistheaven, he had never once cracked a smile, let alone laughed.
His stern demeanor was legendary, and not even the most talented jesters could get so much as a chuckle out of him.
It was as rare an event as seeing a comet that only passed by once every 50 years.
At Mistheaven, there was a long-standing bet that had gone unclaimed for half a century.
The challenge was simple: make Professor Glyde laugh out loud.
Many had tried, but all had failed, causing the prize pool to grow larger with each passing year.
But on that day, Oz had unknowingly won the bet.
"Hah. I think I've had enough laughter for a lifetime. So, which number was picked the least?"
Professor Dexter asked Professor Glyde, struggling to suppress his lingering giggles.
"Number 30. Hiahiahia. That poor kid is doomed. Hiahiahia."
The room erupted in laughter once more as they marveled at the strange twist of fate.
It was clear that the headmaster would definitely read all the papers that chose question number 30.
'What do comedy and tragedy have in common? If you're hit hard enough, you'll eventually laugh at it.'