Chapter 6: Trials of Knowledge

The morning exam loomed, its weight pressing against the crowded halls of Northview High.

David stepped into the examination room, the air thick with the scent of polished wood and nervous sweat, the hum of anticipation vibrating through the rows of desks. The first subject, History of the Great Shift, was a chronicle of humanity's rebirth and ruin—a story David knew as intimately as his own past life.

He settled into his seat, the scratch of his pen against paper a steady rhythm, his mind alight with purpose.

The Great Shift Calendar marked time from the cataclysmic day that reshaped the world. Now, in the year 986, nearly a millennium had passed since that fateful moment.

David's knowledge of this history was unshakable, forged through a lifetime of survival and study. In the old calendar, 2026 AD, a meteor shower from the Leo constellation had descended, not as fleeting streaks of light but as harbingers of chaos.

Thousands of meteors struck the Earth, their impacts shattering communication satellites into cosmic debris and triggering a cascade of natural disasters—landslides, tsunamis, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, hurricanes.

The planet groaned under the assault, defenseless against the heavens' wrath.

Humanity paid a brutal toll. From a peak of seven billion, the population plummeted to three billion, lives erased in the blink of a cosmic eye. Yet the meteors brought more than destruction.

An unknown gas, carried on their fiery trails, seeped into every living thing—human, animal, plant—unleashing profound changes.

Humans awoke to newfound potential: some could leap to rooftops with a single bound, others could hurl cars with bare hands, and a rare few could bend bullets mid-flight with a thought.

Animals, however, became nightmares. Small insects perished, but larger creatures evolved into monstrous forms. Rats swelled to the size of wild dogs, hunting humans in ravenous packs.

Sparrows grew eagle-like, their beaks tearing flesh. Fish sprouted jagged teeth, crawling ashore to hunt.

Larger beasts were apocalyptic: anacondas, tens of meters long, swallowed vehicles whole; eagles, vast as fighter jets, outmatched human aircraft; tigers flipped tanks with a swipe, their hides impervious to shells.

These creatures, their intelligence sharpened, waged war on humanity, driving people to the brink of extinction.

Humanity's survival hung by a thread. Thermal weapons faltered against the beasts' resilience, forcing a new path.

The martial arts system emerged, its disciplines honing human potential into a weapon. Strong fighters rose, their strength and skill turning the tide. Yet the cost was steep.

Today, fewer than two billion souls remained, scattered across seven surviving nations: the United States, the Europe, the Africa , China, Russia, Brazil, and a northern region, once called India, now a patchwork of base cities like Frosthaven.

These nations, shrunken and diverse, housed survivors of all origins, united under new banners. Frosthaven, a fortress of concrete and will, was one such refuge, its walls a fragile bulwark against the monster-haunted wilds.

The old world—its lands, skies, oceans—belonged to the beasts.

Humanity, humbled, turned to faith, naming the meteor shower's arrival the Great Shift Day, a divine act of grace and judgment.

Over the centuries, the Great Shift spawned wars, heroic sagas, and a rich historical tapestry, now a formal discipline.

David, pen flying, poured his knowledge onto the page, each answer a step toward his reborn destiny.

"The northern base was established in 475 of the Great Shift Calendar," he wrote, the words flowing like a river. "The hero Ethan Kane slew the Red Flame Tiger King in the northwestern wilds, then joined forces with the gunmaster Marcus to vanquish a water monster, securing the base's survival."

"In 398 of the Great Shift Calendar, the groundbreaking genetic evolution fluid was perfected. Every fighter must undergo genetic evolution, with outcomes tied to individual aptitude."

"In 622 of the Great Shift Calendar, the first major human conflict erupted. Russia and the Europe clashed in the Black Sea War, with numerous war gods figters joining the fray."

The questions fell before him, each answer a testament to his past life's hard-won wisdom.

In thirty minutes, he set down his pen, the paper filled with precise, confident script. "I won't claim a perfect score," he thought, a faint smile tugging at his lips, "but 95 points or more is certain. Cultural classes matter little compared to physical tests, but ignorance is no virtue. This is a solid start."

Leaving the exam room, David grabbed a quick meal—steamed buns from a campus vendor, their warmth a comfort against the chill.

Philip found him, his broad frame slouched, his face etched with doubt.

Clearly, Philip's exam hadn't gone smoothly, but David knew his friend's passing scores from his past life. "You're fine, Phil," he said, clapping his shoulder. "You've cleared the hurdle. Focus on the physicals."

Philip managed a grin, relief softening his features.

The second exam : Knowledge of Mutant Beasts.

To become a fighter, one had to understand the enemy. Book learning was no substitute for battle, but ignorance was a death sentence.

David's expertise here was unmatched, honed by countless encounters in his past life. No instructor at Northview could rival his experience, the blood of mutant beasts staining his hands across decades.

In the exam room, he attacked the questions with surgical precision. "Mutated sheep, E-grade, low intelligence, primary attack: impact,"

"Resists pistol-grade thermal weapons; heavy firepower is optimal. For fighters, strike the abdomen with a blade from the side."

"Mutated wild boar, D-grade, high resistance to thermal weapons, no clear weak point. Target the neck's lower vessels for maximum effect."

"Mutated owl, C-grade, swift, nocturnal, strikes from above…"

The answers flowed effortlessly, each word a fragment of battles fought and lessons learned.

David finished early, leaving the room with a quiet confidence, the weight of his knowledge a shield against doubt. Philip emerged soon after, his expression lighter, the worst behind him.

They waited together, the campus alive with restless energy, students clustering around the electronic screen outside the exam hall. The screen flickered to life, scores glowing in sharp white light against the dark panel. David's eyes scanned the list, his pulse steady but eager.

First place: Claire, total score 197—100 in history, 97 in mutant beast knowledge. Her brilliance was no surprise, her intellect a quiet force that outshone most.

Second place: David Holt, total score 195—95 in history, 100 in mutant beast knowledge.

Philip's voice broke through, loud with excitement. "Okay, David, you nailed it! Second place! Sure, cultural scores aren't everything for academies, but when physicals are close, they prioritize brains. Girls like Claire usually skip the physical tests for civil exams, so you're basically number one!"

David grinned, warmth spreading through him. "You did solid, Phil. Both subjects passed—you're set for the physicals."

Philip laughed, rubbing his neck. "Man, those books gave me a headache. But physical tests? That's my turf. No more memorizing."

The full results rolled out, most students passing, their names a mosaic of hope and ambition. The afternoon's physical tests loomed, the true crucible for aspiring fighters.

David's face grew serious, his jaw tightening. This was the moment—reborn, armed with mental power and hard-won wisdom, he stood ready to change his fate