As promised, Professor Nero began the mid-terms with the theory exams, that delightful exercise in brain torture disguised as education. The first set of papers was handed out with an almost ceremonial solemnity, and the room quickly descended into a reverent, paper-rustling, pen-scratching silence.
The questions were, as expected, pure sadism. Mana theory? Check. Political science? Of course. Beast analysis? Naturally. And not the straightforward "list three species" kind of questions either—no, these were the kind that demanded you understand not just the material but the very depths of the writer's cruel, creative soul. They didn't want answers; they wanted revelations.
'The answer is simple,' Luna's voice whispered in my mind, her tone unhelpfully smug.
'Then tell me,' I muttered internally, bracing for some miraculous insight.
'I can't tell you everything. You won't grow that way,' she hummed, managing to sound both teasing and condescending at once.
