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Ryan placed the exam down and picked up the next one. “What is this god-awful handwriting?” he asked and furrowed his brow. “Even my doctor’s scribbles are more legible than this.” He reached into his shirt pocket and retrieved a monocle that he attached to his left eye. He brought the paper up to his face and squinted at the name written in the top-right corner of the paper.
“Vur Besteck,” Ryan muttered. “Never heard of this family before.” His gaze shifted down the page, and a sigh escaped from his mouth. Some papers could be graded quite easily. Other papers would take longer than usual. With handwriting this bad, it could take five times longer than average to decipher the answers. “It’s like he’s never written anything in his life.”
Another sigh escaped from Ryan’s mouth as he held out his right hand. His root bracelet flashed, and a steaming mug of brown liquid appeared, his fingers holding its handle. He took a sip as he reviewed the first question: what is the job of a tank? Ryan placed the mug down on his desk and squinted at the answer before reading it out loud, one word at a time. “To store, hold, or transport liquid.”
A dark expression appeared on Ryan’s face, his mustache twitching as his lips trembled. He picked up his pen, and with a swipe of his arm, he crossed out the whole response. “Ridiculous,” he said. “Does he think this is a joke?”
Ryan’s gaze shifted to the second question: list three different ways a damage dealer can increase their damage output without putting their group at risk. Ryan scanned the following scribbles to look for anything resembling a ‘P’. If Vur had paid any attention in class, he’d know about the three ‘P’s: potions, positioning, and proper weaponry. As expected from someone who took the exam as a joke, no ‘P’s were found. Ryan’s face twitched again. “Hit harder. Hit faster. Eat more meat. Ridiculous!”
***
“How long do you think we have to wait to receive our results?” Tafel asked. The group was sitting on either side of a long, rectangular table made up of three square tables they had dragged together at a restaurant Vur had chosen. According to the GGG, the Gluttonous Gourmets Guidebook, he had received from Sir Selddup upon joining the Gluttonous Gourmets, this restaurant was the best one on the fourth floor.
Lindyss shrugged. “You saw how many people were taking the exam,” she said. “I’m a little surprised the tower doesn’t automatically grade the exams itself since it was the one that created this floor.”
“Well, the tower is just a tree,” Tafel said.
“Excuse you,” Stella said from her spot on Vur’s shoulder. “I’ll have you know the average tree is smarter than the average person.”
“That’s impossible,” Melody said. “Trees aren’t sentient.”
“Really?” Stella asked and turned her head towards the pink-haired woman. “Says who?”
“I don’t know about magical trees like the tower, but the average tree is definitely not smarter than a person,” Melody said and pointed at her head. “For one, trees don’t have brains and neurons.”
Stella blinked. “Can you drink water?”
“Right now?” Melody asked, raising an eyebrow. “Or do you mean in general? Either way, yes, I can drink water.”
“But you don’t have roots,” Stella said.
“I don’t need roots to drink water,” Melody said. “I have a mouth.”
“Trees don’t have mouths,” Stella said. “You must think they can’t drink water, right? If they don’t have a brain, they can’t think. If they don’t have a mouth, they can’t drink.”
Melody frowned. “I understand where you’re going with this, but that’s not the same.”
“Isn’t it?” Stella asked and tilted her head. “Trees don’t have lungs, but they can breathe. Trees don’t have mouths, but they can drink. Trees don’t have feet, but they can walk. Trees don’t have brains, but suddenly, they can’t think? Listen to yourself.”
“Hold on,” Melody said. “Trees can’t walk.”
Stella heaved a sigh and turned her head to look at Tafel. “I think my point is made.”
“At the risk of sounding stupid…,” Tafel said and bit her lower lip, “can trees really walk?”
“They can, but they do it very slowly,” Lindyss said. A faint smile appeared on her lips. “Then again, they do everything slowly.”
“I don’t believe it,” Melody said and shook her head.
“Vur,” Stella said and poked Vur’s cheek. “Would you like to enlighten your pitiful believer?”
“I know some gods enjoy playing pranks on their believers,” Melody said. “Even if Feathered Serpent tells me trees are sentient, I’m not going to believe it.”
Vur pointed at Melody. “Polymorph.”
The pink-haired woman stiffened as her whole body elongated. Her arms and feet extended while several branches sprouted out of her torso and head. The branches reached outwards, and pink leaves appeared. Within the span of several seconds, Melody turned into a cherry tree.
Stella nodded at Vur before flying over to the tree. The fairy queen placed her hands on her hips before giving the tree a swift kick. “You might not have a brain right now, but I bet you felt that.”
The tree trembled, and Lindyss glanced at its trunk. “Oh, she’s terrified right now. How cute.” The cursed elf turned her head towards Vur. “She’s begging you to change her back.”
“Wait!” Stella said before Vur could do anything. “Shouldn’t we cut her open first to prove there’s no brain inside of her?”
The tree trembled harder.
“She says she believes you now,” Lindyss said. The cursed elf turned her head to the side and said to the once-approaching-but-now-frozen waiter with a confused expression on his face, “Stop gawking. Have you never seen a tree before?”
“S-sorry,” the man said and hurried over. He lifted a bowl off the tray. “Who ordered the…?”
“The tree,” Lindyss said, pointing at the end of the table where Melody was located. “You can leave it right there.”