Chương 25: The Monthly Mock Exam

Monday morning, outside the gates of Westpoint Magitech High School. Because this was the most critical monthly mock exam of the year, even the chronic truants had shown up. Yet, as always, the dividing line between the two classes was as clear as the River Styx. On one side, a long line of premium mag-cars engraved with wind-element acceleration arrays idled smoothly.

The Consortium scions stepping out of them wore impeccably tailored, custom uniforms embedded with constant-temperature arrays, chatting and laughing effortlessly. On the other side, commoner students who had squeezed onto public mag-trains from various corners of the Seventh Abyssal Hive hurried toward the gates.

Wearing faded, slightly frayed old uniforms, they looked anxious, frantically scrolling through digital notes on their terminals in a desperate attempt to memorize a few more mana-conduction formulas before the final mock exam. Rowan kept his hands buried in the pockets of his oversized hoodie. Blending into the stream of commoners, he walked through the school gates at an unhurried, steady pace.

After two full days and nights of near-masochistic physical reforging via the Furnace Melding Art, his lean silhouette hadn't seemingly changed much. But if one looked closely, they would notice his footsteps were no longer the light, floating tread of someone trying to conserve stamina. Every step he took was incredibly grounded and heavy—like a young mana-beast prowling silently through the wastelands.

"Rowan." At the corner of the teaching block corridor, a familiar voice called out to him. It was his homeroom teacher, Mr. Miller. The middle-aged man, perpetually wearing a wrinkled shirt, was looking at him with a complex gaze tinged with faint worry.

"Mr. Miller." Rowan stopped and nodded politely.

"Where... have you been lately? You missed the practical simulation last Friday." Mr. Miller lowered his voice, his eyes sweeping over Rowan. This student was the one he was most satisfied with. Rowan studied harder and more diligently than anyone else in the class, and had never once missed a cultural lecture. It was just a pity that being poor was an original sin. Mr. Miller himself had climbed up from the ranks of underhive mercenaries, but class stagnation now was ten times worse than in his youth.

Climbing the ladder required a thousand times more effort. It was easier said than done.

"For this exam, just do your best. I'm not worried about your cultural subjects. As for the Magitech Martial Assessment, just give it your all. Since you've already registered for the military special admission, your short-term goal is simply to pass the mock exam. Don't let grudges and bravado lead you by the nose, do you understand?" Mr. Miller didn't spell it out completely, but his meaning was clear.

"Thank you for the reminder, Mr. Miller." A trace of warmth flashed in Rowan's eyes as he looked at the teacher who genuinely worried for him. Then, his tone returned to the placid calm of an unrippled deep pool.

"I will act according to my capabilities." Looking at Rowan's exceptionally composed gaze, Mr. Miller froze for a second. He suddenly felt that this usually low-profile and cautious student seemed to have undergone an unfathomable metamorphosis overnight. At 8: 00 AM, the first phase of the mock exam officially commenced: The Cultural Assessment. Inside the massive lecture hall, every single desk had an exorbitantly expensive "Micro Mana-Disruption Ward" activated.

Any attempt to use mental power or mana fluctuations to cheat would be instantly captured, triggering blaring alarms. The questions on the exam paper were absolutely not simple rote memorization.

"Analyze the mana attenuation rate of the Water-Element [Purifying Healing Art] in a heavily industrially polluted environment, and deduce three optimized conduction circuits…"

"Discuss the compatibility error margins of various deep-hive mutant skeletal materials when integrated into D-Rank magitech weaponry…" This was entirely a screening process based on the standards of "Magitech Engineers" or even "Spell Optimizers." The only sound in the classroom was the scratch, scratch of electronic stylus tips against screens.

Faced with these incredibly devious, beyond-the-syllabus questions, many students were sweating profusely in panic; even the majority of the Consortium scions had their brows locked tightly together. However, sitting in the corner of the classroom, Rowan's answering speed was outrageously fast. In the past, he solved these problems relying on brute-force memorization and logical deduction via mental power. But now, everything was different.

After personally experiencing the unpolluted, pure mana in the alternate world... after using the Furnace Melding Art to brutally squeeze every ounce of energy from high-tier mana-beast meat into his very cells... and after personally constructing the thousands of incredibly complex mana threads of the Frost-Chill Gauntlets within his own body... Looking at these so-called "difficult problems" now was like a college student looking at elementary school arithmetic. Rowan's stylus flew across the screen.

"In extreme environments, there is no need to add conduction circuits to resist attenuation. One merely needs to use mental power to forcefully drive the mana into high-frequency resonance..." You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. Before even half the exam time had elapsed, having double-checked his answers to ensure they were flawless, Rowan hit the submit button on his desk. Beep— The submission chime sounded incredibly piercing in the dead-silent classroom.

The gazes of all the students instantly snapped toward him. A flash of astonishment crossed some eyes, quickly replaced by schadenfreude. In their view, he had clearly encountered beyond-the-syllabus questions he couldn't comprehend and had simply given up the struggle. After all, everyone skipped cultural classes; not knowing the answers was normal. Julian, sitting dead center in the front row, merely tilted his head slightly, the corner of his eye catching Rowan standing up.

His handsome but pale face remained entirely expressionless; he didn't even lift an eyelid, treating Rowan as nothing more than an insignificant puff of air. He elegantly twirled his custom metallic pen in his hand and returned his gaze to his own exam paper. But only Julian himself knew that the moment Rowan stood up, his fingers gripped the pen so tightly his knuckles turned faintly white. That damn Shadow Cat not only failed to tear him to shreds, but let him live?

Julian stared at his test paper, calculating coldly in his heart. Looking at his condition now, he isn't severely injured; his vitality is actually steadier than before. This gutter rat. If the Public Security Bureau hadn't been so tense lately, and if the family hadn't told me to keep a low profile, do you think I would have let a cockroach like you survive this long? Julian closed his eyes, forcing himself to stop thinking about that damned bastard. The priority right now was finishing the exam.

Up on the podium, Mr. Miller immediately pulled up Rowan's digital exam paper. As his eyes scanned the text, a gratified smile bloomed bit by bit across Mr. Miller's face. Perfect score. Not only were all the foundational and deductive questions answered flawlessly, but even for the final, notoriously impossible beyond-the-syllabus bonus question, Rowan had actually provided three completely different, yet logically airtight and perfectly self-consistent methods of solving it!

This was not an answer a simple high school student could write. This was approaching the level of a university sophomore! At 10: 00 AM, the Cultural Assessment concluded. The students and faculty moved to the "Comprehensive Magitech Martial Arena." Next came the Martial Assessment, which carried a significantly higher weight. This was the crucial segment that truly decided one's fate. Erected in the center of the arena was a massive [D-Rank Comprehensive Tactical Sensor Dummy (Standard V4. 0)].

The cost of this dummy was astronomical. Its outer layer was covered by a "Mimetic Mana Shield" to test spell penetration. The middle layer was "Bionic Keratin Armor" to test physical kinetic impact. And the innermost core was an appraisal matrix densely packed with tens of thousands of mana-sensor threads. It could analyze a student's attack power, mana purity, burst speed, and a series of other incredibly complex metrics, ultimately converting them into a straightforward score ranging from 0 to 1500.

The rules of the Martial Assessment were simple: Use your strongest single strike—whether using a magitech weapon (restricted to conventional, non-consumable weapons D2-grade and below), pure physical prowess, or a spell—to attack the dummy. You get three attempts, and your highest score is recorded. The scores of the dozens of students who went first mostly hovered between 300 and 400 points.

Occasionally, a few top-tier commoner students managed to hit over 500 points by relying on highly proficient basic spells, drawing low murmurs of awe from the crowd.

"Next. Julian Sterling." As the examiner's voice fell, the entire arena instantly plunged into dead silence. Surrounded by a flock of lackeys, Julian walked unhurriedly onto the martial stage. He didn't take off his school uniform. But the moment he planted his feet— Hummm— An incredibly deep, oppressive hum of a magitech engine echoed from beneath his uniform. Immediately following, spectral blue mana circuits lit up through his clothing, racing instantly down his spine and spreading to his four limbs.

The [Sterling Custom V-X Magitech Exoskeleton Armor] hidden beneath his clothes powered up to maximum output! The air itself was filled with visible mana ripples generated by the high-frequency mana circulation. There was no flashy spell chanting, nor was there any throat-tearing battle cry. Julian merely stared coldly at the dummy in front of him. His right leg violently kicked off the ground. His alloy combat boot shattered the hard concrete of the arena floor into a spiderweb of cracks.

His entire body blurred into an afterimage. Harnessing the utterly terrifying kinetic amplification of the armor, he threw a devastating straight punch directly into the dummy's chest! BOOM—!! A massive shockwave of air detonated outward with the dummy at the epicenter, forcing the students in the front row to shut their eyes against the gale. The dummy let out a violent barrage of electronic alarm beeps.

The outer Mimetic Mana Shield flickered wildly, and on the middle layer's bionic armor, a clear, two-inch-deep fist imprint was left permanently indented! The numbers on the massive screen skyrocketed frantically, finally locking onto a suffocating score. [Comprehensive Rating: 1100 Points!] The arena was dead silent for two seconds before erupting into deafening gasps of shock. Several of his lackeys began clapping and cheering wildly. 1100 points!

This was infinitely approaching the absolute limit of a Single-Phase Mage and a Single-Mark Martial Artist! A top-tier set of magitech armor had forcefully elevated a high school student to the threshold of the regular military! Julian slowly retracted his fist, the mana circuits of his armor gradually dimming. He smoothed out his slightly wrinkled uniform cuffs with absolute, natural elegance, as if he had merely attended a high-society banquet.

"You have two more attempts," the examiner reminded him after recording the score.

"Just record this one." Without a trace of hesitation, Julian turned and walked off the stage. From beginning to end, he never once glanced in the direction where Rowan was standing. But as he passed through the two-meter-wide aisle right next to Rowan, his footsteps paused for half a second. It was an imperceptible hesitation. Leaving not a single word behind, Julian, swarmed by his entourage, walked straight toward the rest area.

Rowan stood perfectly still, his face beneath the hood as placid as a still pool of water. He looked at the glaring "1100 Points" on the large screen, then glanced at the sensor dummy in the center of the arena—a dummy that supposedly possessed a threshold of 1500 points. A nearly imperceptible flash of deep blue spectral light flickered in his eyes.

"The kinetic potential energy of that exoskeleton armor is indeed impressive..." Rowan offered a purely clinical, hyper-rational evaluation in his mind.

"Pity. The damage is entirely scattered."

"Next!" The examiner's voice echoed across the cavernous arena as he read from the list.

"Cecilia." In that instant, hundreds of gazes across the arena simultaneously locked onto the girl who stood as cold and sharp as a sword of ice. Rowan was standing a bit far back. He only saw the crowd part involuntarily, revealing a streak of golden blonde hair dancing in the air like a brilliant sun as she slowly approached the stage.