Chapter 337: The Examination Script
Three cycles after the applications were submitted, the bulletin board at the
State Army headquarters was updated.
Written Examination. Schedule: Tomorrow, 09:00 Hours. Location: Evernight
Academy, East Wing Hall.
When Eric localized the notice, he was just exiting the dining hall with a bowl
of porridge. Seeing a crowd gathered, he projected a "Grand Event" or a
"Localized Crisis." He squeezed through the press of bodies only to find the
examination roster.
He allowed himself a shallow breath of relief. Then, realizing the proximity of
the "Tomorrow" variable, he inhaled the breath back sharply.
The East Wing Hall contained precisely three hundred seats. Eric arrived
at 08:50, crossing the threshold only to experience a momentary system-lag.
The sector was saturated.
Or rather, nearing peak capacity. A few vacant slots remained in the column near
the corridor. He anchored himself in the center of the seventh row, placed his
tactical pen-case on the corner of the desk, and performed a sensory sweep of
the room.
Adjacent to him sat an Elf. Ear-tips sharp, skeletal structure delicate, fingers
long and tapered. In profile, she looked like a high-tier ink-wash painting—her
expression one of icy, natural detachment.
In the row ahead sat a Dwarf. His frame was so broad the chair groaned under the
weight. His massive palms were spread across the desk, the back of one hand
bearing an ancient welding scar. The unit was currently in a sleep-cycle, his
snoring a steady, rhythmic drone that served as localized acoustic interference
for everyone else.
To his rear-right was a Succubus.
Eric spared her a singular glance before diverting his ocular sensors. It wasn't
that her aesthetic rating was low; it was that she was too effective. He
suspected her passive allure-skill was triggering automatically, creating a
"Distraction-Debuff" in the sector.
He issued a mental directive to himself: Focus. Focus. Maintain logic.
The entry-portals remained active.
A Dragon-man squeezed through the door sideways, his tail performing a
half-sweep of the hallway before he localized an extra-wide seat in the back
row. The chair legs emitted an unoptimistic creak as he sat.
Two Orcs entered in sequence. The lead unit's legs were vibrating with a
high-frequency tremor; the trailing unit was frantically auditing a weathered
pamphlet, his mouth moving as he recited data.
Eric had resided at the Academy for three cycles and had witnessed every race in
the Empire, yet the density of this assembly caused his processing to stall.
The number of participants far exceeded his projections.
Before registering, he had performed a risk-assessment: The Transit Hub is a
beta-test project. Phase One recruitment should possess a low
competitive-rating. Given my academic record and Residency-buff, I project a 70%
probability of passing.
He now deleted the "70%" from his temporary files.
The Proctor entered on schedule—a Vampire with a black armband, his features a
mask of clinical indifference. The examination scrolls were distributed from the
far end of the corridor with surgical precision. When the scroll reached Eric,
it landed on his desk without a single millimeter of deviation.
"Commence."
A singular syllable. Instantly, the hall was filled with the rhythmic scratching
of three hundred pens.
Eric unfurled the scroll. Section One: Imperial History. Archives from the
Academy curriculum. Timelines. Major annexations. He processed the data with
high-speed fluency. Section Two: Imperial Legal Codes. Two variables were blurry
in his memory, but his general logic remained aligned with the Empire's
direction.
Then he reached Section Three: Scenario Analysis.
Query 1: While on duty in the Transit Hub service sector, you localize a Goblin
attempting to harass an Elven female unit during a procurement cycle. Identify
your primary tactical response.
- A. Initiate a dialogue based on equality and friendship. Identify the unit's
grievances and seek a multi-party win-condition.
- B. Enforcement with 'Heat,' Slapping with 'Weight,' Punching with 'Angle,'
and Fists with 'Attitude.'
- C. Kicking with 'Precision,' Magic with 'Height,' Subduing with 'Velocity,'
and Landing with 'Aesthetic.'
- D. Immediate containment. Formal transfer to the Punishment Legion. Full
archival logging of the incident for security audit.
Eric stared at the text, setting his pen down. He read the four variables from
start to finish, then from finish to start. He glanced at the Elf beside him and
lowered his voice to a whisper.
"Pardon the query... Section Three, Item One... what is your projected answer?"
The Elf girl tilted her head, her brow-ridges knitting in a look of distinct
unwelcoming. She performed a rapid scan of the prompt, remained silent for two
seconds, and then returned to her own scroll, ignoring his existence entirely.
Eric processed the feedback: She lacks the data as well.
He looked back at the Succubus. She was tapping her chin with her pen, her
expression one of structural conflict. Her paper bore a scribbled "A" that had
been crossed out, followed by a "D" that met the same fate. Finally, she had
scratched out the entire response box and drawn a massive question mark in the
margin.
Confirmed: The sector is in a state of confusion.
Eric returned to the scroll. From an "Emergency Management" perspective, the
logic suggested D—strict enforcement and adherence to protocol. That was the
first phase of any dispute resolution.
But these four options... individually, none felt like a total logic error, yet
none felt like a "Perfect Clear." The phrasing of the variables made him suspect
the Proctor was auditing a parameter other than basic knowledge.
He spent two minutes in calculation, circled "D," and proceeded.
Query 2: A visitor from an external Plane, unfamiliar with Imperial Etiquette,
offers you a currency-unit of 'Unquantifiable Value' as a greeting-tribute.
Identify the appropriate processing protocol.
- A. Smile and decline. Return the item. Provide a lecture on Imperial
Etiquette Standard 1.0.
- B. Smile and accept. Provide the visitor with 'Over-Spec' hospitality
services.
- C. Zero-smile. Zero-acceptance. Immediate registration. Report the item to
the State Army sector chief for processing.
- D. Smile and accept. Record the following in the Log-Entry: 'Gifts received
today; Reciprocity maintained.'
Eric stalled at Option D for three full minutes. He began to contemplate a
deeper query: What manner of mind designed this examination?
The Dwarf in the front row rebooted from his sleep-cycle. The movement was loud,
his chair legs letting out a sharp ga-clack against the floor. He performed a
high-speed scan of the scroll, frowned, circled a coordinate on the paper, and
immediately returned to his horizontal state.
The entire "Active Phase" lasted less than forty seconds.
Eric performed a diagnostic on the unit and reached a dual conclusion: Either a
tactical genius, or a unit that has fully surrendered to the 'Thunder-God' meta.
Statistically, the latter was more probable.
By the end of the Scenario section, Eric was essentially relying on "Blind
Probes" and guesswork. He felt a 40% confidence-rating in two of his answers,
while the other three felt like he had intentionally selected the variable the
examiner most abhorred.
But he had no superior tactical options. The scroll lacked any 100% "Safe"
coordinates.
When the collection bell tolled, the atmosphere in the hall was... delicate.
Usually, after an examination, students engage in data-sharing and
answer-verification. Today, there was zero vocalization. The participants
exiting the hall fell into two distinct states:
One group stared at the toes of their boots, their eyes hit a "Null-Value"
focus. The other group was frantically sketching on their palms, attempting to
reconstruct the prompts.
Eric stepped onto the stairs outside, pausing to stabilize his breath. He
localized the Succubus passing nearby. Her aesthetic "allure" was currently
overlaid with a layer of bewilderment, making her appear surprisingly human.
Their eyes met for a second. The Succubus spoke first.
"Section Three, Item Five. What was your output?"
Eric calculated. "C."
"My data reached the same result," she whispered.
A two-second pause.
"...Does that imply C is the intended logic?"
"Or that we both possess the same structural error," Eric countered.
The two shared a moment of silence before turning and departing in opposite
directions.
Eric stood on the steps, performing a visual audit of the sky, then smoothed his
collar and headed toward the dormitories. Regardless of the outcome, the data
was submitted. Moving to the next query with a guess is better than stalling
until the clock hits zero. To leave a blank space... that was the only true
"Failure."
☆☆☆
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