[Is it correct to believe that your answer to the third question is to terminate the docunt and lead humanity to extinction due to the loss of that docunt?]
"I beg to differ."
Their conclusion was damning, a statent that could ridicule him if he didn't act fast.
"My answer is rooted in the undeniable fact that the Mystic Society commands hundreds of thousands of mystics, with that number expanding every day."
[Your point being?]
He exhaled sharply, suppressing the irritation rising within. "I'm getting there."
"Among those mystics," he continued, "there are over a hundred distinct Arts, each contributing to an imnse diversity of approaches. This allows for endless possibilities to break down complex mystic-related tasks into manageable solutions."
[You still haven't made your point.]
"If humanity's entire survival hinges on a single docunt," Aldrich said, his tone firm, "then we might as well have been dood from the start."
He knew what he was getting into and did not need to be told he had just cast himself on a thin thread close to snapping.
[Are you implying humanity does not deserve to exist?]
"What I'm saying," Aldrich clarified, "is that mystics, especially humanity's mystics, are far stronger than to place their entire existence on a single piece of paper. Heck, we have five LORDS leading us, but even without them, we strive. We adapt. That's who we are."
[And your argunt is?]
"My argunt," he declared confidently, "is that while we may revere the LORDS for their leadership, humanity's strength lies in its collective tenacity. We do not crumble because of the absence of a figurehead—or a piece of paper. What sets us apart is our ability to rise above challenges and claim victory."
[Tenacity and craving alone are not survival strategies, Mister Aldaman. Idealism has its rits, but this test demands a pragmatic outlook.]
"True," Aldrich conceded. "And that's precisely why the Eldora Institute exists."
The statent seed to land, forcing the unseen examiner to pause.
"Eldora prides itself on shaping mystics into paragons of excellence," Aldrich pressed on.
"If its graduates can't shoulder the burden of humanity's survival, then the institution itself stands for nothing. And if that's the case, I should reconsider my application entirely."
With those final words, his argunt stood firm, unyielding.
[Is that your final answer?]
"Yes," he said, without hesitation.
[Mister Aldrich Aldaman, the first test accounts for 20% of your overall assessnt, the second 30%, and the third 50%. You will be asked one last ti—do you wish to stand by your answer?]
"I do."
Lingering on his decision would only invite doubt.
[This concludes the second test assessnt. You may proceed to the third stage. When you wake, walk through the first door you see.]
The VR helt lifted from his head, and Aldrich blinked back to reality. His gaze fell upon the single door straight ahead. Without hesitation, he walked through.
---
[The third assessnt evaluates your physical state, combat prowess, ntal acuity, and most importantly, your mastery of your greatest skill.]
"Understood. I'm ready for whatever cos next."
The first phase was a test of physical fitness, pushing him to his limits as he demonstrated flexibility, agility, and endurance.
He passed each trial with determination, knowing his performance mattered.
He lacked a bit in the strength category but there was nothing that could be done about that.
Strength was never his strong suit and is more so not using a body that has only had months of recovery from a five-year stricken coma.
He was hoping the other aspects he excelled at would cover for his lack of inherent strength.
As he finished, a rack of weapons materialized on the side of the room, each one neatly arranged.
Swords, spears, pistols, bows, and other crude tools of combat stood before him.
[Choose your weapon. Be warned: your choice will determine the nature of the test.]
Without a second thought, Aldrich reached for the bow.
The instant his hand closed around it, a wave of nostalgia washed over him.
It had been so long since he'd last held a bow, yet it felt like an extension of himself.
For a fleeting mont, his mind wandered to a conversation with his doctor before all of this.
Never again, the doctor had said.
How wrong he was.
[Are you certain of your choice?]
"Completely."
He slung the accompanying quiver over his shoulder, his resolve unwavering.
The other weapons were foreign to him.
This one however was a part of his very being for as long as he could recall which is a considerable lot considering he had started from seeing his father wield the bow as a child.
[Then prepare yourself. The test begins now.]
In the expansive, white room, a target pole appeared ten paces ahead of him.
Without needing instruction, Aldrich understood the challenge.
Drawing an arrow from the quiver, he nocked it, took aim, and released.
The arrow sailed through the air, striking the centre of the smallest dot on the target.
The poles shifted, retreating five paces further.
Unfazed, Aldrich drew another arrow and repeated the process.
Once again, the arrow found its mark.
The target moved again, now a considerable distance away.
Smirking, Aldrich retrieved two arrows, nocking them simultaneously.
He loosed them in unison, both striking the sa central dot with precision.
Now four arrows clustered in the bullseye, their fletching jostling for space.
The poles shifted even farther, their targets now a re blur on the horizon.
Aldrich squinted, his confidence unwavering. "No need for clairvoyance," he muttered. "This is all ."
Rejecting the temptation to rely on his unique Art, Aldrich trusted in his skill alone.
Drawing three arrows at once, he nocked them expertly and released.
The arrows streaked through the air, piercing the bullseye.
Seven arrows now occupied a space no larger than the cap of a water bottle.
"Piece of cake," Aldrich muttered, his voice tinged with disappointnt.
The challenge felt far too easy for soone of his calibre.
If Eldora Institute wanted to test his limits with the bow, they'd have to try harder.
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