It took Michael less than twenty minutes to get back to Bright Academy—the same place where he’d taken the first part of the college exams yesterday.
Fifteen minutes to freshen up. Sure, he had a supernatural body, but that didn’t mean he should bathe like the Flash.
Four minutes and fifty seconds to get dressed—because honestly, how long does it take to put on clothes?
Ten seconds to streak through the city like a blur, covering streets in the time it took others to blink.
And just like that, Michael was standing at the academy gates before 8 a.m.
He paused there, rubbing his temples, a faint frown creasing his brow. The cool morning air brushed against his face, but it wasn’t enough to clear his mind.
His thoughts were already somewhere else—back on the message he’d received last night, one he hadn’t been able to read until just seconds ago.
The results of yesterday’s exam were out. The total score for the 1,000-question test was 1,200 points.
With how some questions were disgustingly hard yet worth only 1.2 marks, it felt like the examination committee was making the exam difficult just for the sake of it.
There were three types of academies a candidate could enter based on their score out of 1,200, each tied to a different university track.
Liberal Academies – For civilians and supernaturals with limited potential. Minimum score: 500. It sounded low, but with the question difficulty, it was far from easy.
Cultivation Academies
Awakeners’ Academies – The top tier. Exclusively for awakeners. Minimum score: 350,
Hitting 800 was enough to compete for scholarships.
And Michael’s score was 950.
One would look at that mark and think one of two things.
First—Michael was a genius.
Second—he was damn slow for a supernatural with an enhanced mind.
For the two, both would be wrong.
For one, just because someone was book smart didn’t make them a genius. Michael’s intelligence made him book smart. He could answer many questions with ease, pulling information from his mind like it was a well-organized library—but when it came to application of that knowledge, that was where his cracks began to show.
Some people’s minds were wired differently. Two people might know the exact same thing, yet they were never truly the same. The inventors of the past often had access to the same information as their peers, but it was their application—their ability to twist, refine, and reshape what they knew—that made them stand out.
It was the same principle that explained why some students topped the class every semester yet faded into obscurity, while others with average grades went on to surpass them in life. The difference was never just in knowledge—it was in how they used it.
And in this case, some of the exam’s trickier questions were designed to bypass Michael’s enhanced memory entirely. They didn’t care how much he remembered. They cared how well he could think under pressure, adapt to sudden changes, and solve problems without relying solely on recall. And in those areas, Michael still had ground to cover.
The mark didn’t matter much to Michael, though—he was ahead of the minimum requirement by 600 points.
Of course, that didn’t mean he hadn’t tried to get a high mark. If anything, Michael had his own private reasons for pushing himself.
He had no doubt that if he had truly scored exactly 350—the bare minimum—there would’ve been... problems.
Yes, on paper, that was enough to enter the Awakeners’ Academies. But realistically? Michael had reasons to believe they would use that as an excuse to deny him entry.
Because how could someone with a supernatural mind perform that low? Even if you were purposely trying to bomb the test, with an enhanced mind, it should be difficult to do that badly. You’d have to actively sabotage yourself—and even then, your instincts would probably betray you by answering correctly on reflex.
In other words, a score like that would raise eyebrows in all the wrong ways.
950, though? That was safe.
Michael slipped his phone back into his pocket, exhaling slowly as he rubbed his temples again.
"Great... still there," he muttered under his breath.
The dull throb behind his eyes hadn’t let up since he woke up, a persistent reminder of just how bad it felt to have his soul energy burned almost to the last drop.
No, this wasn’t soul energy depletion. It was a different kind of hollow.
This was mental energy—the fuel that kept his thoughts sharp and his perception clear.
Yesterday’s evolution session with his spear had drained him so thoroughly that both his bodies felt the strain.
Still, Michael could only accept the consequences of his own actions.
For now, it was better to focus on what was right in front of him—
The second day of the three-day college exams.
The second phase of the exams was... different.
The message announcing his score yesterday had simply told him to report back to his exam center today. No details. No hints. Just a bland "Be present."
It was only now, standing here, that Michael learned the truth—today wasn’t about answering questions.
A full evaluation to measure the capability of every qualifying participant.
The courtyard ahead was already packed.
Two lines stretched across it, long enough that they disappeared around the far corners of the building.
A little looking around told him the difference. One was for Awakeners, the other for cultivators.
As expected, the Awakeners’ line was much smaller—but "smaller" was still hundreds of people. Considering this was a mixture of every new Awakener registered in the last three years for an entire city, it was understandable.
The cultivators, though... they were a lot. A very lot. Michael wasn’t sure if there were more because cultivation academies had looser requirements, or simply because cultivating was still the more common path for those without rare awakenings.
Either way, the size of the crowd didn’t matter to him.
Michael stepped into the Awakener line.