I Killed The Main Characters

Chapter 150: Second Year Opener Exams [2]

"Wait… what?"

The words escaped my lips before I could stop them.

Noah was number three.

Not first.

Not second.

Third.

My eyes widened as the reality sank in.

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Above him was Leo Velden, the Empire's third prince, at number two.

And in the coveted first place sat...Draven Lockwood.

Someone who had always been in the running for the top but never quite dethroned Noah—until now.

I stared at the list, disbelief swirling in my mind.

Noah, the infamously untouchable top student, had been knocked down.

For the first time, the academy's golden hierarchy had shifted.

My thoughts raced.

What had happened?

Was it that arrogance during the exam?

The way he'd wasted time, acting as if the questions were beneath him?

It was infuriating to think that someone as brilliant as Noah could squander his talent like that.

But then again, maybe this was what he deserved.

I stepped back from the board, my mind still reeling.

Around me, the chatter continued, louder now as more students noticed the results.

I caught glimpses of their faces—some surprised, others gleeful, a few genuinely shocked.

The collective mood seemed to revel in Noah's "downfall."

I couldn't help but feel a strange mix of emotions.

On one hand, it was almost satisfying to see his ego take a hit.

But on the other hand, it felt... wrong.

Noah was insufferable, but he was also brilliant.

To see him fall short felt like a disruption in the natural order of things.

***

In the quiet and orderly office of the Dean of Ravenwood Academy, the tension was palpable.

The walls were lined with shelves full of dusty tomes, magical artifacts, and intricate diagrams pinned haphazardly to corkboards.

The Head of the Magic Department, Professor Eldric Voss.

A graying man with a stern demeanor, stood at the side of the Dean's desk while a younger professor nervously held a stack of exam papers in trembling hands.

"Dean Hargrove."

The young professor began, pushing his glasses up nervously.

"I've come across something... unusual in the second-year midterm evaluations for the Advanced Magical Theory course."

Dean Hargrove, a stately man with a reputation for being unflappable, adjusted his spectacles and motioned for the professor to elaborate.

"Unusual? I hope you're not about to tell me there's a scoring error."

"Well," the professor hesitated.

"It's more complicated than that."

He placed the papers on the desk and pointed to a specific section of the exam.

"This question here—it appears that during the final review process, the phrasing of the question was inadvertently altered.

It was supposed to ask students to identify the limitations of dual-elemental channeling under leyline interference, but it was mistakenly phrased as if they were meant to resolve the interference entirely."

Eldric's eyebrows furrowed as he leaned over the papers.

"That's a significant difference, Adrian."

He said.

"Resolving leyline interference isn't something even most 3rd-circle mages could manage without extensive preparation.

How did the students respond?"

Adrian adjusted his glasses nervously again.

"Most of them attempted to answer the question within the parameters.

Some proposed theoretical solutions, but they were incomplete or inaccurate—expected, given the error.

We graded them accordingly."

The Dean leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful frown creasing his face.

"And yet, you're here.

Something else must've happened."

Adrian nodded, flipping through the pages to pull out a single exam sheet.

"Yes, Dean.

This paper here.

One student not only noticed the error but rewrote the question to its original, intended form before providing a complete and accurate answer."

He laid the paper before the Dean and Eldric.

Adrian cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

"At first," he began, adjusting his glasses.

"We thought Professor Scralett made an error in her exam design.

Many of us in the faculty believed the question was ambiguous, perhaps even flawed in its wording."

The Dean raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair.

"You mean to tell me that an entire panel of professors misinterpreted the intent of the question?"

"Exactly," Adrian replied, his voice tinged with hesitation.

"Even as we marked the responses, we used our interpretations of what we believed the question to mean.

But none of us—not a single one—caught the actual intent behind it.

That is, until we consulted Professor Scarlett herself."

The Dean's expression darkened as he placed the papers on his desk.

"And what did Scarlett have to say for herself?"

Adrian exhaled, leaning forward as he recounted their conversation.

"She was... unapologetic, to say the least.

She claimed the question was intentionally written as it was to test not just knowledge, but the students' ability to think critically and creatively.

According to her, the phrasing was meant to force them to step beyond conventional patterns of thought."

The Dean frowned.

"Was this explained beforehand?

Was there any indication to the students—or to the faculty—that such an unconventional approach would be taken?"

Adrian shook his head.

"No. And that's where most of the confusion arose.

We assumed it was an oversight.

But when we pressed her, she insisted the question was perfectly clear for anyone who had, in her words, 'read extensively and deeply enough to understand what was needed.'"

The Dean's lips pressed into a thin line.

"So, she put the burden entirely on the students?"

Adrian nodded.

"Precisely."

"And Professor Scarlett was quick to point out the implications of that.

She called it a shame, even a disgrace, that not a single one of us, the so-called ranking mages of this academy, were able to discern the true meaning of the question.

She even said—" Adrian paused, his jaw tightening.

The Dean gestured for him to continue.

"Go on."

"She said, 'A single head, one student, managed to think more clearly and deeply than over twenty highly educated professors.

It's a pity, really, how blind intellect can be without the willingness to challenge itself.'"

The corrections and annotations in neat, precise handwriting jumped out immediately.

"Not only did that student correct the question," Adrian continued.

"But they also provided a flawless analysis, exactly as the original question demanded.

That's 20 marks—full credit for the question."

The room fell silent for a moment as Dean Hargrove picked up the paper and examined it closely.

Eldric peered over his shoulder, his sharp eyes scanning the annotations.

"Well, I'll be..."

Dean Hargrove finally muttered, pulling off his glasses and placing them on the desk.

"Would you look at that?

Twenty marks, clean and undisputed.

That's unheard of."

Eldric leaned back, his expression unreadable.

"Only one student managed this?"

"Yes," Adrian confirmed.

"That means that every other student just lost 20 marks due to the phrasing.

But this one—this one not only answered it correctly but also corrected the mistake. It's... remarkable."

The Dean leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers.

"Who was the student?"

Adrian hesitated, knowing the name would spark reactions.