Nabler gently removed his glintstone crown and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his brow. He exchanged looks with the colleagues beside him, and each found the astonishment in the others' eyes almost comical. Unable to restrain himself, he stood, came around from behind the long proctors' table, walked to the candidate's desk, and bent down to inspect the answers.
Fourteen methods existed for refining glintstone.
Skyl had written down fifteen.
The six advanced structures of meteor sorcery, he had not only listed every one of them, but had even proposed a theoretical seventh structure.
As for the hypothesis explaining the resonance between glintstone magic and the soul, his answer was completely different from the mainstream theory that both shared the same origin. He had practically constructed an entirely separate academic framework, wildly unconventional yet argued with such confidence and rigor that it was impossible to dismiss.
The man was practically superhuman.
Just how many secrets were hidden inside that brain of his?
Before anyone realized it, the professors had crowded around Skyl's desk. They craned their necks to watch the miraculous quill in his hand continue producing symbols that made their hearts race, followed by spatial geometries so mesmerizing they could hardly tear their eyes away.
They almost wanted to beg the quill never to stop.
Keep writing.
Answer every question.
To personally witness someone capable of ascending to godhood as a wizard casually solving problems before their eyes was the opportunity of a lifetime.
Under ordinary circumstances, candidates were expected to spend twenty to thirty minutes on each question. Even with three full hours, completing ten problems was considered a fairly demanding pace.
Skyl finished each one in under three minutes.
It was as though he didn't need to think at all. The answers simply flowed naturally from the tip of his quill.
In barely half an hour, he had completed the required ten questions.
Then he prepared to put down the quill.
"No!"
"Don't!"
"You can't stop there!"
Skyl looked up. "Didn't I finish everything you asked me to?"
Nabler wiped his face. His dark eyes practically gleamed as he stared at Skyl. The expression he wore had completely changed. Skyl was no longer merely their reliable source of free meals.
He was a treasure chest.
"Just to be safe, perhaps you should answer a few more."
"Exactly."
"Yes, yes. If one of your earlier answers happens to be wrong, the extra questions can make up for it."
Skyl deliberately put on a troublesome expression. "Oh, but my hand is getting sore."
Nabler glanced sideways.
One of the nearby instructors hesitantly stepped forward and began massaging Skyl's shoulders.
"How's that? Enough pressure?"
"Not bad. But I'm a little thirsty."
"You're not writing with your mouth," another instructor blurted impatiently.
Skyl touched his throat and promptly put on the expression of a man too parched to speak.
Nabler shot the impatient instructor a glare.
The man grunted under his breath, then obediently went to make tea.
"Here, drink. Once you're finished, you'll keep answering questions, won't you?"
"Let me organize my thoughts first. Once I've got everything straight in my head, I'll start writing."
"Then hurry."
The professors were beside themselves. At the same time, they busied themselves copying down Skyl's solutions to the first ten problems. Every clever insight they discovered drew another exclamation, until the supposedly solemn examination hall sounded more like a packed flea market.
If this really had been an episode of The Voice, every professor in the room would already have slammed the button and spun their chair around for Skyl.
Skyl gently set down his teacup and closed his eyes.
His consciousness wandered away from his body and through the Academy, passing effortlessly through walls, bookshelves, and hidden chambers before slipping into the Debate Parlor to watch the other candidates taking their exams.
His attention quickly settled on Millicent.
Everyone else was hunched over their desks writing furiously. Only the red-haired girl sat perfectly straight with her eyes closed, looking almost as though her consciousness had wandered away as well. Her quill rested inside the ink bottle.
Her examination scroll was completely blank.
Skyl had only stolen a moment away from his own exam to see her.
Whenever Millicent came to mind, whenever he remembered that his soft feather and wings were somewhere nearby, a strange restlessness stirred inside him. The hand gripping his quill almost felt as though feathers might sprout from his palm, an unbearable itch that only seemed capable of settling once he held Millicent's hand again.
So the moment he closed his eyes, he had wanted to see her.
Whenever he couldn't, his mind couldn't help imagining ten thousand different moments from her life instead.
Once the examination ended, Skyl wanted to wait for her outside the Debate Parlor. They could stroll through the quiet corridors together while he listened to her recount every little detail of the exam, every thought and every feeling she had experienced, chatting idly until the daylight beyond the windows turned orange with sunset.
But judging by the scene before him, Millicent had run into trouble.
Skyl moved closer and immediately understood what had happened.
The examiners had replaced the papers at the last minute.
What had originally been a fairly relaxed examination had suddenly become brutally strict.
If Millicent actually understood magical theory, she wouldn't have been sitting there unable to answer a single question.
Every profession had its own mountain to climb, and an enormous divide separated wizards from other kinds of spellcasters. Sorcerers manipulated the Weave through instinct. Bards reshaped reality through song. Clerics received magical power from their gods.
Only the wizard's path was brutally straightforward and disciplined, much like a warrior strengthening the body through relentless training day after day.
If this were a fight, Millicent could carve a path straight through the entire Debate Parlor, turn around, and do it again without breaking a sweat.
Ask her to sit down and take a written exam, though, and her education was a little lacking.
Faced with magical theory, all she could offer was an innocent smile.
Skyl walked behind her and leaned close to Millicent's ear.
"Need some help?"
Millicent jolted so violently that her thigh struck the desk with a loud knock.
Several nearby sorcerers looked over in annoyance, and even some of the professors glanced in her direction.
Skyl's current state went far beyond simple invisibility. He existed within a higher dimension while remaining capable of interfering with the lower one. He was almost like a creature made entirely from invisible force, except even the surrounding air failed to bend around his presence.
Millicent clenched her teeth slightly and whispered through them.
"Sky...l?"
"Yep. It's me."
Skyl found the whole situation rather amusing.
He pressed lightly against Millicent's back, rested his chin on her right shoulder, then traced his hand along her slender but well-trained arm. He gently separated her interlaced fingers before threading his own through them.
Millicent was incredibly tense.
They were surrounded by people, yet not a single person knew Skyl was there.
"Relax." Skyl chuckled mischievously. "It's not like I'm going to do anything bad. Quite the opposite, I'm here to save you. Rescuing suffering students everywhere, saving hopeless cases from academic disaster, that's me, Skyl, God of Exams. Come now, young lady. Tell me your wish, and this god shall grant it."
Millicent pressed her lips tightly together to keep herself from laughing.
Then she gently shook her head.
"You really don't need help? Because from where I'm standing, a certain beautiful red-haired girl looks dangerously close to turning in a blank exam."
"Not. Going. To."
Skyl idly played with her fingers.
Tiny depressions appeared in her palm beneath the pressure of an invisible force field as he poked her hand. Then his palm overlapped Millicent's completely, almost like a ghost possessing her hand.
He picked up the quill, gently shook away the excess ink, and wrote a single line of an answer across the examination scroll.
"See? Behold the power of the God of Exams. He can answer the questions for you, and tutoring is included free of charge."
Skyl's laughter circled beside her ear, his whisper brushing against it like the lightest teasing nibble.
From the instructors' section, Botari of the Karolos Conspectus watched Millicent's every movement.
One of the roaming proctors walked over to her desk and simply stood there, staring at her as she worked.
Skyl glanced at the proctor and immediately recognized what was happening.
Someone was looking for trouble.
"Oh dear, someone's got their eye on you. Want the God of Exams to step in? Order my divine assistance now and you'll even get a buy-one-get-one-free special."
Millicent knew perfectly well that he was joking.
She gave the slightest shake of her head.
No help necessary.
"All right, then."
The invisible hand of force withdrew from hers.
The faint, weightless pressure against her back remained.
Skyl hadn't left.
Before she even realized it, Millicent was smiling brightly.
She opened the message history within the Silver Network.
[Instanced plane mission completed. Rewards settled...] ×16
[Candle Coins: 1,053]
[Purchase Basic Glintstone Sorcery.]
[Basic Glintstone Sorcery costs 1,000 Candle Coins. Payment deducted.]
Millicent began answering the exam.
Quill in hand, she started writing at remarkable speed, rapidly making up for lost time.
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