The projection changed again. A winged creature appeared, its body narrow and sharp, its long, bone-like wings stretched and translucent. Its head angled downward in a way that made its silhouette feel predatory even in the still projection.
'Not the Maze again.'
This time it was the thing that aerially attacked me, nearly taking off my shoulder when I assumed its height was the main danger.
Professor Anlor continued to ask the third question without giving me any pause.
"Ok. Question three. This winged Aethren circles above you, but it doesn't descend; instead, it repeatedly sways from left to right at a fixed height while releasing brief pulses of Aether through its wings. What is it trying to do to you?"
'Why does this question feel like it's directly at me?'
Even Taron thought the phrasing was weird as he added, under his breath, "Dude, why did he make you the subject of the question??"
The Codex gave its assistance, but I already had the answer forming.
[KNOWN ENCOUNTER IDENTIFIED]
[TACTICAL FUNCTION: ANGLE TESTING / BLIND-SPOT CREATION]
"It is not about choosing whether to attack from above or not," I said. "It is trying to make the student— me- track the vertical danger while it prepares its strike. The wing 'Aether pulses' are likely used to adjust air pressure or disrupt my ability to read its direction. Its sole goal is to make its target move haphazardly and disorientate themselves, exposing their back or side."
Professor Anlor's smile dissipated even further; he was borderline frowning at this point.
"... And the appropriate response?"
"Simple really, don't keep spinning to follow it. Find some cover, if possible, and hold yourself in the position you are at; limit its angles; create a defensive structure on the exposed side.
Taron looked at me.
I saw it from the corner of my eye.
The expression on his face was different now.
Less amused.
More intrigued.
Professor Anlor paused for half a second.
"That's correct."
This time, the class did not merely whisper.
Their mumblings were clearly audible now.
I could see the grouped-up commoners turning to each other with cautious excitement. Some nobles looked irritated, but even their irritation had lost confidence, as many students who previously looked at me like some doomed inconvenience moments ago were now sitting ever so straighter.
Hope was a dangerous thing to give to a room full of despair.
Professor Anlor's penultimate projection appeared.
A multiple-limbed thing, sleek and unpleasant, with a long segmented body and faint Aether nodes glowing under its hide. It reminded me, unfortunately, of the one beast in the room I had decided not to look at earlier.
'Are all these monsters just gonna be what I saw in the Maze?'
The mere memory of its movement made my skin irk.
"A pack-oriented Aethren variant does not attack first. Instead, several members surround a group and repeatedly retreat whenever spellcast frequency rises. Why?"
[KNOWN ENCOUNTER IDENTIFIED]
[PACK-PRESSURE BEHAVIOUR]
[OUTPUT BAIT STRATEGY]
I let out a slow breath.
"They are measuring response habits," I said. "If they retreat every time spell output rises, then they are training the group to waste Aether. They are also identifying which person in the group panics, which person overcasts, and which direction the formation opens after each retreat. The correct response is not to keep casting at every movement. The group should tighten formation, assign watch angles, reduce unnecessary spellcasts, and force the Aethren to commit before spending any Aether."
Professor Anlor's eyes narrowed to a point that I couldn't see his iris anymore.
"What if one member were to appear injured and separate themselves from the pack?"
"I would assume that it's bait," I said immediately. "Especially if the pack has already displayed coordinated retreat behaviour. Don't break formation just to chase a 'weak' target unless you have confirmed it is isolated."
The room started to get loud enough that even some conversations were clearly heard, mainly the ones between the nobles.
Professor Anlor finally stared directly at me. I could feel the hostility from his gaze.
Then he said, "Correct."
Four questions. Four correct answers.
I allowed myself to lean back slightly, but I didn't make the mistake of relaxing.
There was something wrong, not with the answers I had given, but with the pattern of questions given to me. Each question so far was about something I had encountered before, specifically in the Maze. Even the Ember Warg question is suspicious.
Either the professor had accidentally built an exam out of my worst memories so far in this world, or he had somehow chosen the least effective way to humiliate me. Both seem likely.
'I genuinely can't tell if he's helping me out, or if I'm the luckiest guy on Earth.'
I paused.
'Wait. Not Earth, but a different world.'
A strange feeling emerged from my thoughts.
'Actually, hang on. What is the name of the world I'm currently on? Codex?'
Absolute silence.
Nothing.
'Uh? Codex?'
Still nothing.
'Great. I'm getting ignored again.'
Professor Anlor's voice cut cleanly through my thoughts.
"I must admit," he said, "I am impressed."
The way he said it made impressed sound like a curse.
"You have answered the four questions I gave correctly. Only one more and everyone receives an easy couple of weeks." His smile returned, colder than before. "Try your best not to falter now, Kael."
That was the first time he had used my name.
The students in the class noticed.
Taron noticed.
And so did I.
Professor Anlor's attitude toward me changed.
And it wasn't just him; the students around me changed.
The resentment had not vanished completely, but it had been joined by something else. Expectation. Hope. A desperate need. A few commoners whispered encouragement under their breath.
"You can do this!"
"Come on, fighting!"
"Don't mess it up."
That last one was less encouraging, but at least they were honest.
Even some of the nobles looked invested now, though a few tried very hard to appear above caring.
Taron leaned closer.
"No pressure," he whispered.
"There is, unfortunately, quite a lot of pressure."
"... Yeah, I know, I lied in hopes of making you feel better, but you got this!"
Before I could comment on Taron stupidly pointing a thumbs up at me, the projection changed one final time.
The Hookhorn Thyrak had returned.
Its vivid black fur.
Its lean frame.
The cruel forward-curving horns.
Pale markings that looked like old runes pressed into its back.
Professor Anlor's smile settled into place.
"Last question," he said. "The Hookhorn Thyrak is known for sudden visual disappearance during nighttime engagements, particularly in dense forest territories. Explain the mechanism behind this behaviour and identify why its preferred hunting grounds enhance the ability."
And there it was.
The hope in the room died instantly.
I could feel it happen in real time.
A collective collapse to desolate despair.
Someone groaned quietly.
Someone else whispered, "Yeah. No chance."
Taron looked down and covered his face with one hand.
That was not a reassuring sign.
Even I felt the first edge of uncertainty.
The Hookhorn Thyrak had been introduced today.
I hadn't faced one before, unlike the others.
I wasn't even able to study it.
Professor Anlor knew that.
This was the question. The real one. The actual test I was supposed to face from the start.
'I was wrong. The previous four questions weren't gifts. They were bait. He let the emotions in the room rise with me, so that the fall would hurt even more.'
It was clever.
Petty.
But clever.