I'll Take the First Place Retest Reward (3)

The retests at Theia Academy were proceeding at a brisk pace.

They were retests for current cadets, and simultaneously entrance exams for outside applicants. One might have expected the academy instructors to take an interest — but in practice, most of them couldn't have cared less.

Well, the top-tier cadets already have their admissions locked in through internal selection. Hardly surprising.

Even being assigned as a retest proctor was something most of them found thoroughly annoying.

Instructor Lee Suyeon of the Liberal Arts Department was the exception.

No particularly interesting examinees so far. I wonder about this next group…

There were twenty retest groups in total. Half of them had already finished, yet Lee Suyeon still watched every examinee with undiminished attention.

Teaching cadets whose talents had already blossomed was fun enough — but finding raw gems who didn't yet know what they were capable of, and nurturing that potential, was one of her greatest pleasures.

The other instructors keep going on about how talented those three from Aegis are, but…

More to the point, the top-ranked cadets were already far too specialized in their own classes. That made them a poor fit for the Liberal Arts Department's core philosophy — fusing multiple classes into a single, hybrid development path. And it made them a poor fit for Lee Suyeon's personal interests as Theia's youngest full instructor, too.

A sharp electronic beep cut through the air.

Group Thirteen's retest had begun.

The format was a monster hunt using specialized AR equipment. Since ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠most of the retest examinees were D-rank cadets, the monster difficulty had been calibrated accordingly. The method was a time attack — kill as many monsters as possible within the time limit.

Surprisingly, this simple-looking exam revealed a great deal about a cadet.

All we told the examinees beforehand was the basic set of rules.

That was why most cadets in the earlier groups had performed almost identically. Ten minutes on the clock. The monsters that appeared early on weren't particularly strong — ordinary goblins and orcs, not enhanced variants. Every one of them would have hunted those things back in high school.

The examinees tore into the monsters with abandon.

Without conserving a scrap of mana or stamina, either.

But there was a trap.

The retest was not a game. It was an evaluation for hunters. The moment a cadet enrolled at the academy, they received a formal hunter license rather than a provisional one. So of course the retest had been designed with sudden contingencies built in.

As the time limit drew closer, stronger boss monsters would appear.

A hunter's fundamental posture is absolute composure.

Caution was essential. Charging in at full power from the start was suicide — you never knew what variables a dungeon might throw at you. Examinees who got so caught up in the words "time attack" that they threw themselves away were, naturally, disqualified as hunters.

They're going to have a rough time of it.

In fact, a fair number of examinees from the earlier groups had already retired because of those sudden contingencies. They might be adults now, but most of them had been high school students mere months ago. As hunters, they were still green — clumsy and incomplete in every way that mattered.

Hm? That examinee…

While watching Group Thirteen's exam, one cadet caught her eye. She checked the name.

Choi Hana.

A girl with long black hair. Pretty enough that your gaze snagged on her for a moment — but her expression was cold and serious.

High school major: Alchemist. Interesting.

Choi Hana looked thoroughly competent in combat. A chain — the kind alchemists commonly used in battle — sliced through the air with a sharp, cutting whistle.

"Keeeegh—!"

The chain warped midair and cinched tight around a goblin's throat. A section of the metal glowed red-hot and detonated.

Hmm. Flashy.

She also threw metal throwing weapons that exploded on impact, cutting down monsters with clean, rapid movements.

With skills like that, why is she even taking a retest…? Ah.

She pulled up the girl's records. Understanding came quickly.

Attendance and theory scores are a disaster. Practical scores are top-tier, though.

With a face that pretty, burying herself in academics must have been unbearably dull. Lee Suyeon had wanted to skip school and play around when she was younger, too. She understood.

And in that moment, her attention shifted to another examinee.

The complete opposite of Choi Hana from a moment ago.

A male student was swinging his sword with absolute composure.

Oh-ho. Very clean sword paths.

His speed wasn't particularly impressive, but the trajectories his blade traced were textbook. The soft green light radiating from the sword suggested he'd specialized as a Paladin.

Looks like a blonde-tanned punk, but he's a Paladin? Well, no problem. Looks are looks…

She'd wanted to stand out for her appearance when she was younger, too. She understood this as well. But then Lee Suyeon found herself surprised.

Wait. He's not just slow.

His kill count was climbing at a conspicuously slower rate than the other cadets in his group. But as an instructor, Lee Suyeon wasn't about to miss what that actually meant.

This cadet — Lee Junwoo — was meticulously targeting only the monsters' weak points.

Normally, when the timer starts blinking like that, people get worked up. Is this kid really a fresh high school graduate?

At a glance it looked frustratingly deliberate. It wasn't. His attack intervals were slow, yes — but in exchange, every single strike cleanly ended a monster's life.

That way, you don't need to attack multiple times. No counterattacks from the monsters means ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it's also better for stamina management.

She hurriedly pulled up Lee Junwoo's profile. Like Choi Hana earlier, his attendance was a mess — but everything else was the reverse.

Theory scores are top of the class? But practical scores are dead last.

His physical ability measurements were equally abysmal. That glacial movement of his was probably a result of the same problem.

And yet this examinee named Lee Junwoo remained utterly composed. He was attacking those monsters with the best options available to him.

Impressive. That level of composure could rival a professional hunter.

Composure like that wasn't cultivated overnight. His high school grades had clearly been undervalued. There had to be reasons for those terrible practical scores and physical evaluations — maybe he'd been drinking the night before an assessment.

Probably just wanted to mess around through high school. Now he's finally serious.

Seven minutes had already passed. Lee Junwoo's kill count sat at roughly half of a typical cadet's. Even so, he remained calm — no excitement, no rush. Watching him was like watching a battle-hardened veteran hunter.

And ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠right now was the most critical moment of this retest. The flow of the exam was about to change.

From here on, the monster tier goes up.

That was why the kill count so far would stop mattering. Take a solid hit from a higher-tier monster, and every point earned from previous kills would be deducted.

"Aaaagh!!"

Sure enough, another cadet from Group Thirteen had just been caught by a stronger-than-expected monster attack. But Lee Junwoo didn't so much as flinch at the scream.

I wonder how this examinee will…

Without meaning to, she found herself rooting for him. There was no denying it — he was the most eye-catching cadet in this entire exam.

Instructor Lee Suyeon decided she would watch this examinee's test through to the very end.

The retest was drawing toward its end.

Throughout the exam, I conserved as much stamina as possible while dealing with the monsters.

I've cleared this quest so many times in the original that I'm sick of it. Nothing difficult about this at all.

Even after clearing a quest once, the original game's system forced you to farm it repeatedly for authority leveling and skill grinding. And in this reality, I'd also been diligent about high school theory studies — mostly so I could tutor An Yumin for her theory exams, but still.

Thanks to all of that, I had more than enough knowledge from both my past life and this one. I checked my status.

My various levels had risen thanks to the second authority awakening and subsequent authority acquisitions — both the system-linked user level and the authority level from the additional awakening.

The authority level went up, so I got status points.

Unfortunately, the innate limitations of being an extra meant the stat bonuses I received per level were lower than those of the original game's main characters. Still, the second awakening had clearly improved that ratio to some degree. Considering I'd be able to acquire multiple authorities going forward, it was pure profit for me.

My mana went up, too.

I'd invested those bonus stats entirely into mana. What had been 50 rose to 70 — a full forty percent increase.

Kakakakakang—

Whenever a skill activated, mana was consumed — always for active skills, and depending on the type for passives. The point was that skills couldn't be used indefinitely.

Good thing I dumped every bonus stat into mana.

And the effect was absolutely worth the cost. Attacks from goblins and orcs couldn't deal any damage to me through the Sacred Shield.

My body is still at ordinary civilian level. I can't afford to take even a single hit.

My Strength and Speed stats were both 10 — roughly the level of a regular person who exercised somewhat. That wasn't a metaphor. With only my previous authorities, I couldn't even handle these trash mobs easily.

But with a reliable defensive skill like this, everything changed. I maintained my stamina as close to full as possible and waited for the right moment.

The remaining time finally ticked down to three minutes.

"KYAAAAAAAH!!!"

The atmosphere in the testing ground shifted. Until now the monsters had been numerous but unremarkable — and then, suddenly, a massive enhanced monster emerged from among them.

"Wh-what the hell is that?!"

Another examinee's panicked shout rang out. Just as I'd expected, a colossal orc of pure black light had appeared.

The Dark Chieftain Orc!

Rank: D+. Considering most of the examinees here were D-rank, it was a full tier above them — and two tiers above me.

The goblins and orcs from earlier had been Normal-attribute monsters. This chieftain orc, with Darkness attribute layered on top, was a far more troublesome opponent. And most of the other examinees would already be running on empty.

From here on out, it's penalty time.

It didn't matter how many more monsters someone had killed than me. Take a solid hit from that chieftain orc and you'd lose points. A boss-tier monster like that would hit hard enough to erase every kill you'd banked so far.

Now it begins.

Two minutes and fifty ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠seconds remaining. The chieftain orc locked its gaze on me — pure, unmistakable hostility.

Suuuuuung—

The massive axe in the boss's hands carved through empty air. The instinct hit me instantly: a graze from that thing meant death.

But as I was now, I could win.

Kakang—

I blocked the axe's cleaving strike. My reaction speed alone couldn't keep up with this thing — but I had the exam's timer bar.

I have every pattern memorized.

They hit as hard as real monsters, but they only moved according to the patterns the exam operators had programmed. For a veteran like me, nailing the exact timing wasn't difficult in the slightest. Frame-perfect clears were basic for endgame players.

Five more uses of the shield. Active skill Sacred Strike… maybe three times.

With a Strength stat of a mere 10, dealing a fatal wound was impossible through raw force. But I had a method.

Sacred Strike. The primary skill of the authority Goddess's Faithful Guardian Knight — an authority forged through a Paladin's sword. Its effectiveness increased against Darkness-attribute monsters, and given that this boss was literally called the Dark Chieftain Orc, that terrifying enhancement worked entirely in my favor.

Three times. If I land three precise hits on its vital points, even I can kill it.

Of course, that assumed it stuck rigidly to its programmed patterns. Fortunately, I'd already confirmed that every monster in the testing ground followed the original game's patterns. If my strategy was correct, I could clear this boss with twenty-five seconds remaining.

As long as I don't miss a single dodge, block, or attack!

Time passed.

At the same moment, my Paladin's sword blazed with soft green light.

Paaaaang—

The blade drove cleanly through the boss's heart. The boss collapsed. My mana hit exactly zero.

"I won…!! Ugh…"

I felt a surge of triumph at the certainty of victory — then my vision went white. Strength drained from my entire body. The limits of my stats, it seemed, were inescapable after all.

But I held on through sheer Mental Strength and refused to pass out.

"Hah… hah…"

With a Mental Strength of 90, I at least managed to avoid the undignified spectacle of collapsing after killing the boss.

Hah… the old me would have blacked out and started foaming at the mouth for sure.

Choi Hana was watching. I couldn't disappoint the woman who would one day become my partner. In front of someone steeped in the underworld, I needed to look unshakable. At this point, success was certain. A medal-tier ranking was locked in, at the very least.

For a moment, the faces of the three people who had exiled me flashed through my mind. They'd probably assumed I wouldn't even pass the retest.

Well. Doesn't matter.

The title Cold Fire Avenger. Its effect kept me in absolute composure toward those three revenge targets. Once again, I was reminded how broken that absolute composure really was.

The final goal the title was driving me toward — seizing every scrap of renown those three were supposed to claim — required that I not let my emotions sway over something as trivial as this small satisfaction.

Right. This is only the beginning.

Choi Hana was still mid-exam. That meant I'd almost certainly taken first place in the retest. Which meant a reward was waiting — and for someone whose stats were this pathetic relative to his authorities' potential, that reward was rain in a drought.

The reward is a medal… if the mirror judges it correctly, a new authority, too…

I caught my breath for a moment, then headed to the waiting area.

A short while later, Choi Hana arrived as well, having finished her exam late. Her face was pale. Clearly the retest hadn't been easy for her either.

In the original, if she lost to An Yumin…

She'd accept the result, but say with a cold expression that she wouldn't lose next time, then walk away. Choi Hana and An Yumin had always had a strangely rivalrous dynamic.

In any case, she clearly couldn't believe she'd cleared later than I had.

Perfect. This gives me a definite opportunity to get involved with Choi Hana — thanks to that competitive streak of hers.

She stood in place for a long time, reviewing Group Thirteen's retest replay. Then, at last, she walked over and stopped in front of me. It looked like she was about to deliver that line. She opened her mouth.

"I… I… th… th…"

But Choi Hana didn't shout at me.

What's wrong with her?

Instead, the moment our eyes met, she started stammering badly.