Chapter 4: The Written Exam
The second day at Eldoria Academy began with the hum of anticipation. The vast library where the written exam was held was quieter than the bustling training grounds, but the pressure was no less intense. Students sat in orderly rows, the scent of old parchment and ink filling the air. This was a different battlefield—one where words and wit would determine their fate.
Claude had insisted on accompanying me, his expression neutral, though his sharp gaze constantly scanned the room for potential threats—or opportunities. The System flickered to life, its golden glow illuminating my thoughts with an irritatingly smug tone.
[Daily Quest: Ace the Written Exam.
Objective: Score in the top 25%.
Reward: +5 Villain Points. Penalty: None.]
"Can't wait to impress," I muttered, cracking my knuckles as I picked up my quill.
[Failure is not an option. Failure is the best option.]
"Thanks," I said, rolling my eyes.
The exam paper was long, filled with complex questions ranging from ancient magical theory to political strategy—a test of both knowledge and logic. It was the kind of exam designed to break even the most prepared minds.
For someone like me, who was attempting villainy through trial and error, this was an uphill battle. I stared at the first question, my mind drawing a blank.
"Calm," Claude said, sensing my growing tension. "Focus on what you do know. Everything else will follow."
I let out a breath, nodding slowly. If nothing else, Claude's level-headed approach had become my anchor in moments like these.
The exam began, and the room fell into a contemplative hush. Quills scratched against parchment, ink flowing smoothly. I managed to jot down a few answers before my mind began to wander. The System buzzed faintly, its constant presence an irritating reminder that I wasn't alone in this.
[Your answers are subpar, Host. Truly villainous.]
"Shut up," I whispered, earning a few amused glances from nearby students.
Hours passed, and my confidence waned with each successive question. There were moments where the complexity became too overwhelming, and others where my attempts at sabotage—hidden in witty phrasing—backfired spectacularly.
[Failing miserably at villainy again?]
"Not helping," I snapped, leaning back in my seat, frustrated.
Claude glanced over, his expression calm but observant. "You're thinking too hard. Let it flow."
"I'd love to do that," I muttered, rubbing my temples, "but my brain keeps suggesting noble suggestions for world peace."
"Perhaps your villainous persona is unraveling," Claude said with a smirk. "That would be unfortunate."
I sighed, accepting the truth. At this rate, I'd be the golden boy, not the cunning villain I was supposed to be.
---
The final minutes of the exam ticked by agonizingly slow. My hand cramped from the relentless writing, and my mind felt like it had been battered by a storm of half-baked strategies. When the bell finally rang, signaling the end, I nearly collapsed onto the desk.
Claude rose beside me, offering a steady hand to help me up. The System, of course, had something to say.
[Congratulations on surviving another disaster. Let's see how you faired.]
I clenched my jaw, annoyed. "Don't hold your breath."
The results were posted an hour later, and as predicted, my score was far from stellar. I hadn't failed, but I certainly hadn't succeeded either. My name sat just barely within the top 50%, a placement Claude deemed acceptable for someone "still learning the ropes."
"I'll take it," I muttered, examining the paper once more.
Claude gave a nod. "It's better than the alternative. You live to fight another day."
With that, I slumped back into my seat, the weight of the exam slowly lifting. But even as the initial relief set in, I couldn't shake the feeling that the System was already plotting my next disastrous victory.
---
As we made our way out of the library, the bustling hallways filled with chatter. Students compared answers, exchanged tips, and shared theories about what the professors might expect next. The noble girl with shimmering scales from yesterday passed by, casting a brief glance my way. She said nothing, her eyes studying me with curiosity.
I ignored her, keeping my focus on the System's interface. New tasks awaited, new challenges. Villain points meant little when every path seemed to lead to saintly praise instead of villainous infamy.
Claude walked beside me, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the chaos brewing around us.
"Your performance today wasn't ideal," he admitted softly. "But you survived. That's what matters."
"Barely," I muttered, adjusting my coat. "But survival is the goal, right?"
"For now," Claude replied, his eyes reflecting a quiet determination.
The hallways twisted and turned, but the weight of being the Academy's accidental saint followed me like a shadow, leaving little room to breathe. The System pulsed once more, eager for the next task.
[Let's see how far your unintentional heroism can take you, Host.]