Written Test

The disgruntled red dragon didn't even get a chance to use its wing strikes or shadow flames before Thea pinned it to the ground and dismembered it with her sword.

In theory, beheading a dragon would kill it, but this was a magical construct of a giant dragon. Whether a fatal wound to the head would work was debatable. So, Thea proceeded to cut the imposing giant dragon into pieces.

Scouring the area afterward, she found no materials for crafting like dragon crystals or dragon cores, feeling a sense of disappointment. She had noticed earlier that there was a trick to clearing this stage: four damaged knight statues stood at the entrance.

The purpose behind this was to simulate a classic scenario of knights and mages teaming up to slay a dragon, using these statues as reference points.

But who knows which ancestor got the wrong idea or intentionally created trouble for their descendants? They brought these statues to life, and after a fierce battle with the red dragon, the four statues, now missing arms and legs, were piled up like trash on one side, and their specific significance was not immediately apparent.

Regardless, Thea had passed the test. She commanded her robot to place her on the ground. At a height of 150 meters, she couldn't afford to cancel its form abruptly, lest she fall to her death. Carrying her sword, she skirted around the pile of flesh and made her way towards the palace gates.

Not long after entering the grand hall, the two large doors closed in a cliché manner.

She rolled her eyes. How unoriginal.

From the outside, the hall appeared spacious and grand, but in reality, the interior space was not as large. Thea had barely taken a few steps before reaching a desk cluttered with parchment scrolls. Three quill pens lay askew on the table, and a nearly empty ink bottle was casually tossed on the ground.

Thea became increasingly certain that something was amiss with this scene. It was too disorderly and chaotic to be a test for future generations. Even the most basic desk tidying was neglected. Moreover, there were no hints along the way. Even if they didn't want to create a system sprite-like in a game, they could have at least put up a sign to let the examinees know what they should prepare for.

Regardless of the nature of the assessment, Thea decided to tidy up the desk first. However, as soon as she touched the parchment papers, a massive hourglass suddenly appeared out of nowhere on the previously empty spot.

After estimating the time, she concluded that it was acceptable. The sand wasn't flowing too quickly; she probably had about an hour.

But what was she supposed to do in that hour? Thea looked around the room again. The decorations were lavish, with carpets, tapestries, and various other adornments scattered throughout.

Many things were purely decorative and couldn't be taken down. Thea wasted ten minutes before finally identifying her target.

It was the items on this desk.

Picking up a piece of parchment, she examined it closely. "What a mess!" Thea muttered as she set aside the piece of paper detailing the practicality of mana and its secondary connections with earth and water.

She couldn't understand this paper, and neither would those farmer ancestors of hers.

She ended up spending another five minutes sifting through all the parchment papers, picking out a few that she could make sense of.

It was quite simple. The writings on these papers were all about fundamental knowledge, such as the composition of the universe and the framework of the world.

For Thea, whose learning abilities had been enhanced, it was a breeze. With her intelligence far exceeding that of normal humans, she forcibly memorized this knowledge, which somewhat conflicted with her original worldview. Then she began examining the scrolls she couldn't understand.

Realizing that the next part was likely a written test because those quill pens and ink bottles didn't seem like souvenirs for herself, Thea employed the techniques she had learned in dealing with standardized education in her previous life.

Some of the content had similarities with modern physics knowledge, while others seemed like pure nonsense. She didn't care whether she understood them or not; she just memorized them all indiscriminately.

The learning methods from her previous life proved to be immensely helpful. Coupled with her current powerful memory, she could confidently say that in terms of learning speed, she wouldn't lose to Ra's al Ghul or even Bruce.

Over a dozen pieces of parchment—tens of thousands of words of content that contradicted common sense—were forcibly memorized by her in less than half an hour.

In the final ten minutes, she worked to organize the diverse knowledge she had memorized. Although it was part of a comprehensive system, Thea felt it was too scattered, as if someone had mischievously cobbled it together haphazardly.

As for the truth of the matter, she didn't care at this point. The entire assessment site seemed to have been used many times before. The painting she had obtained had most likely changed hands many times over generations. Perhaps there were some instructions left for future generations along with the painting?

But at this stage, regardless of what had happened previously, as long as she cleared this stage, she should be able to proceed. She could still sense that faintly.

Thea steadied her breathing, maintaining her best condition while slowly adjusting her mindset.

As the last grain of sand fell through the hourglass, a fresh piece of parchment materialized on the desk. All the previous scrolls had vanished, leaving only the quill pens and ink bottle.

Thea immediately picked up the parchment paper and carefully examined it. The entire page contained fewer than twenty questions, all of which were very basic. They included topics such as the major elements the world is composed of, the various colors of flames when they burn, and the refraction of light.

Realizing that she had been fooled by this chaotic environment again, she understood that those scrolls she had read before were not part of the assessment content at all. Just looking at the first few would have been enough to handle it.

Thea flipped the bird toward the person responsible for this mess. If she ever met them in person, she'd kick their ass.

Although the questions were all very simple, she still answered them seriously.

In less than five minutes, she finished answering all of the questions, checked them several times, and confirmed that they were all correct. Thea was a bit dumbfounded. Who was she supposed to submit this paper to?

"Hey, I'm done writing."

"Is anyone there?"

She foolishly called out to the empty room for a while, but not even a ghost appeared.

Frustrated, Thea thought, could it be that Merlin, the great ancestor, set the exam time particularly long to accommodate those descendants who had just learned to read?

As she thought about it, it seemed quite possible. In the early Middle Ages, even kings, let alone commoners, struggled with writing their own names. Many nobles couldn't write either; they simply used a signet ring for official documents. When it came time to sign, they pressed the seal and called it a day.

After waiting patiently for a while, Thea concluded that no one would show up. Fine! Since they were so confident, she wouldn't hold back.

Thea left her seat and took another look around the environment. Although she didn't have high hopes, maybe she could find something good.

Using the treasure-hunting techniques taught by Selina, Thea began to continuously search the surrounding walls and decorations.

Her efforts finally paid off. While the walls yielded nothing, she discovered a jet-black dagger hidden within a decorative antler-shaped ornament.