Five minutes later, Himo was drenched in sweat. Thirteen spiked spheres swarmed around him like a school of fishes. This is absurd!
[Didn’t the user just claim to be unstoppable?]
Ignoring the system, Himo shifted his left foot, raised his chin, and lowered his right arm, all just to avoid three spheres. He then stepped back, crouched, and hopped forward once again. His movements resembled those of a beginner’s stiff attempt at street dancing.
The cluster of spheres forbade him from using [Hopper] even if willing. But he knew he was improving. He was getting faster and more precise. At that rate, he’d soon become untouchable—
Ten spheres turned toward him.
Crap! He stacked [Hopper_x2] and jumped above, out of the encirclement. And he headbutted into a hidden sphere. It popped like a balloon. A chorus of thirteen pops rang and stopped, followed by the return of the mechanical voice.
“Congratulation on surviving over five minutes—you passed the first test!”
“First?” Himo muttered. He gasped for air, lying on the floor.
“You have five minutes to rest. Afterward, the next test will begin,” the mechanical voice added. “Meanwhile, you can check the average results of this test.”
A screen appeared on the walls. Himo glanced at it.
---------------------------------------------------
Your result: 6 minutes and 46 seconds.
Average times:
Class D: 19 seconds.
Class C: 1 minute and 13 seconds.
Class B: 1 minute and 47 seconds.
Class A: 2 minutes and 56 seconds.
Class S: 6 minutes and 33 seconds.
Teachers: 17 minutes and 39 seconds.
Winged Freaks: 56 minutes and 56 seconds.
Headmaster: information redacted.
---------------------------------------------------
“Fifty-six minutes! Really?” Himo jolted up. “Are they the special division mentioned by the headmaster?” He fell in thought for a second before he lied again on his back. Closing his eyes, he circulated his khenqi to rest.
Five minutes passed.
“The second test will start.” As the voice dispersed, walls and ceiling dissolved, revealing a vast plain behind. From afar, a few oddly shaped objects darted out of a humongous dark cloud that served as boundaries.
Himo stood up. He waved his arms and legs a few times—while he wasn’t fully rested, he could still move.
“Knock the rock, cut the paper, defend from scissors.”
“Eh?” Himo threw a second look at the approaching objects. He blinked. They either held the rough shape of a rock, one as flat as paper, or that of sharp scissors. “What kind of ridiculous test is this?”
He saw the closest, a rock, speeding at four times the spheres’ speed. Frowning, he readied a punch. But a cold shiver on his back prompted him to draw the violin and cover behind. A pop sent the impact throughout his arm.
A bullet? He noted a quick object that approached from afar—its speed surpassed that of the others. No, it’s the scissors!
Before he could blink, the rock reached him. He punched it. It popped like the spheres.
Looking at the next obstacle—the paper—Himo brandished a sword. This feels like a rhythm game. It’s been a while since I played one.
Unlike the other two, the paper was way slower: it sped no faster than the earlier spheres. And yet, he looked at it with a frown. He dashed and split it with a slash of his sword. It popped. Once the last scissors reached him, he blocked them with his violin.
After a moment of thought, Himo took the violin with his left hand and the sword with his right.
A new wave of targets escaped from the cloud. Three rocks, two scissors, and one paper.
He thrust the sword in the ground and punched a rock, then grabbed the sword to slash at the paper on his right whilst blocking the scissors on his left. They gave him no break. He dashed backward and slammed on the scissors with his violin. Two rocks surrounded him. He threw violin and sword to the ground and punched the two rocks.
The second wave was over. But after a single breath of his, the third wave began. Several targets escaped from the cloud. The paper escaped first, the stones second, and the scissors third.
Himo frowned. This wave was different. If he didn’t move, all targets would reach him at the same time—he’d lose. He didn’t falter. He dashed toward the closest—the papers. Spamming [Hopper] and sword slashes, he annihilated his targets. He then moved to destroy stones—but the scissors reached him first.
He spun on himself and slammed the violin on the scissors. The rocks surrounded him. Yet, he punched all of them. “They come straight at me.” He dashed for his next targets as he muttered, “It’s impossible to avoid them.”
Once again, he laid waste to the targets. A few seconds passed, and the third wave was clear. Less than thirty seconds had passed since the start. The fourth wave started—dozens upon dozens of targets darted out of the clouds in a sporadic fashion.
“What the—” Blocking several scissors, Himo widened his eyes. “What’s up with this difficulty curve? Who’s the one that balanced this thing?!”
He leaped from a target to another in hopes of reducing their numbers. It wasn’t enough. Tens of rocks trapped him. He bounced from one to another and popped several, but a pair of scissors snuck into the formation and stabbed his back. Everything popped.
“Congratulations on destroying over twenty targets—you passed the second test!” The mechanical voice returned. “You have five minutes to rest before the next test will start.“
While Himo sat on the floor, a display appeared at a few meters from him.
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Your result: 33 targets.
Average times:
Class D: 1 target.
Class C: 3 targets.
Class B: 6 targets.
Class A: 13 targets.
Class S: 28 targets.
Teachers: 122 targets.
Winged Freaks: 500 targets (max).
Headmaster: information redacted.
---------------------------------------------------
“An average of max points…” Himo’s interest in the Winged Freaks peaked. “Still, why is the headmaster in here if the results are redacted?” He frowned.
[Why does the user care?]
I’m curious! System, can you unlock that information?
[For the reasonable price of 1000 BS points.]
There’s nothing reasonable about that! Himo rolled his eyes. He ignored the system and focused on resting. Soon enough, the next test started. And the next. And next. From hunting fishes under lands of ice to searching a brown-colored spider in a field where giant black spiders fell from the sky, the tests exhibited a mix of goofiness and messed up difficulty curves that made Himo wonder if whoever balanced them was even trying.
By then, he’d completed nine tests. The averages of each test held the same pattern—the students held poor results, the redacted result of the headmaster, the absurdity of the Winged Freaks, and the teachers stuck in the middle. Not once did he come close to the Winged Freaks’ average.
The last test was about to start. This time, Himo had been given fifteen minutes of rest, otherwise, he’d been panting heavily.
“In this test, you’ll be free to modify the illusion realm,” the mechanical voice returned.
“Oh?”
“Objective: survive as long as possible.”
Everything stretched and turned into an infinite white floor—a blank canvas. Fifty teachers—nascent realm cultivators—appeared in the room.
They were the hunters.
“You are indeed a prodigy,” one teacher spoke as some others nodded. “Don’t worry too much even if you get crushed here, you can stand proud of your results. Even the strongest can’t fight fifty alone.”
“Also,” another teacher added, “This illusion realm is built through a formation capable of nulling the chance of death. Fight without worries.”
Himo smiled. “Indeed. It’d not be a surprise to get crushed. Thanks for your advice.”
The most perceptive teachers raised an eyebrow, feeling something weird within his words.
Meanwhile, Himo activated [Steal Illusion].
[Steal Illusion activated: gained an additional 12% control over this illusion realm.]
Himo’s smile widened to a devilish grin. I may not be the best at chasing spiders and dodging balls, but no one will beat me here. This time, I won’t lose against those Winged Freaks!
