The Final Exams Begin...

"Dong— Dong— Dong— Dong— Dong—"

The tolling of the school bell marked the official start of the first exam.

No classes were scheduled for the morning, giving students their final stretch of rest and preparation time while allowing teachers to organize the examination halls.

The afternoon heat hung heavy in the unventilated classroom, making the waiting students fidget. Lan En steadied himself through meditation—a skill honed through countless exams across lifetimes.

Mathematics came first—perhaps to emphasize its status as the foundation of magic and arcane studies.

His proctor was Castor Hughes, the lanky chestnut-haired professor currently romantically involved with Professor McDonald.

"Verify your exam papers are complete. Raise your hand if any pages are missing," Castor instructed. "Then write your name and student number—double-check this! One mistake here means a zero. At that point, you might as well walk out."

Lan En meticulously verified his identification details.

"Since this is your first exam, listen carefully..." Castor's voice turned grave. "No cheating! No cheating! No cheating! Important rules bear repeating! Every paper carries powerful anti-cheating enchantments. Don't test the half-silver-coin investment behind each sheet!"

Though seemingly routine, this was actually a continent-wide standardized test administered by the Mage Association with military precision.

The Association—which Lan En had only encountered during his Purple Rose Medal ceremony—officially styled itself the "United Association of Spellcasters and Arcanists." But the cumbersome title saw little use. Most said "Mage Association" or "Magic Association," while elitists preferred "Arcane Association."

Their frugality during medal presentations belied the Association's bottomless coffers and influence. Consider:

At half-silver per paper, fifteen exams meant 7-8 silver coins per student. With hundreds of arcane schools across the Cadia Continent and nearly 100,000 examinees, annual costs approached 10,000 gold coins—a staggering 100 million copper coins. Merely pocket change.

This excluded intermediate arcane schools and arcanist academies, though their numbers paled in comparison.

Moreover, anti-cheating spells remained an unsolved arcane mystery—unreplicable and exorbitant. Mass-producing enchanted papers required terrifying resources.

"Final verification complete. Begin."

Pens scratched feverishly. Lan En transcribed pre-calculated answers with mechanical precision.

For three days, students shuffled between halls according to labyrinthine seating charts.

Between exams, an epidemic of post-test answer comparisons broke out—purportedly for "mental wellbeing" (though results suggested otherwise).

"Lan En, what were your first five astronomy answers? I think I botched the third..." Sophia fretted after dinner on day two. Nearby, Elina and Hal debated passionately over scrap paper calculations.

"Stop." Lan En's voice carried unusual sharpness. "Here's an exam secret: Never compare answers afterward. It only sabotages future performance."

Three pairs of eyes widened.

"If you were right, fine. If wrong, you'll carry that anxiety into the next test." He held their gazes. "Worse, the 'correct' answers might be wrong. Either way, you can't change submitted papers. Why risk domino failures?"

"Then... maybe we should just... keep studying..."

Results week brought rare tranquility.

With no classes and exams behind them, students luxuriated in lethargy. The group embraced this respite fully.

As Sophia noted, primary arcane school graduation results posted within a week, with copies mailed home.

The system guaranteed fairness: Anonymous grading under dual divination-system overseers prevented foul play. Continent-wide synchronized answer keys enabled rapid scoring by distributed graders.

This synchronization relied on the Association's revolutionary communication network.

Every certified mage tower now housed long-range transmission arrays—an unthinkable luxury in earlier eras. Where once even point-to-point messaging was precious, modern towers facilitated simultaneous broadcasts and private calls.

Yet the technology remained immature. Only towers could sustain the colossal energy demands, though arcanists labored to reduce consumption.

The two divination specialists served dual purposes: detecting grading anomalies and correcting accidental errors.

Lan En's research revealed an irony: Classical causality models had collapsed under arcane advancements. Modern divination instead employed probability matrices—yielding similar accuracy at 1% the traditional cost and time.

His musings were interrupted by a commotion near the administration building.

"Lan En! Results are posted!" a classmate shouted, already sprinting toward the bulletin board.