He was the kind of person who, if he set his mind to it, could rise at any time—that was the evaluation he had received.
’They’re strange guys.’
In the end, he would come to understand them as time went on.
"Anyway, do your best. If you join as my junior, I’ll take good care of you. Hahaha!"
As Canis walked away, his shadow stretched long toward Shirone.
When Harvest raised both arms and extended his middle fingers on both hands, the shoulders of the three, already irritated, trembled with anger.
"Cancel our plans to relax today."
"Yeah. Canis as a senior? I’d rather quit school than see that happen."
"Hmph, why quit? We should get promoted and put him in his place."
The end-of-semester evaluation was on a completely different level compared to previous challenges.
It was the culmination of six long months, and even if they started something immediately, success was not guaranteed.
"I’ve been thinking..."
"Given my current level, I’d say the probability of promotion is about 30 percent. That’s assuming I study to the best of my ability."
It wasn’t a mathematical analysis, but since Shirone’s insight was acknowledged by his friends, they took it as fact.
Nade’s expression darkened.
"I talked big, but it won’t be easy for me either. If Shirone’s chances are 30 percent, then mine might be about 50 percent? Iruki’s would be around 60 percent."
"No, mine is approximately 58.7 percent. To be honest, I haven’t attended a single lecture."
At this rate, they would have no choice but to bow to Canis and Arin next semester.
"So, what do you guys think about this?"
"What? Do you have a good idea?"
"If we keep studying the way we have, our chances of success are too low. So, let’s change our strategy."
"The 30 percent I mentioned assumes I study as hard as possible. But if I focus solely on boosting my test scores rather than actual studying, I think I can push it up to 50 percent. That means for you guys, it could be 70 or even 80 percent."
"I see. Forget about academic achievement for now and focus solely on scoring above the threshold?"
"Exactly. Since we only need to score above 80, we can ignore subjects we’re already good at. We also don’t need to study topics that won’t be on the test. There are sixteen subjects, but they can be broadly divided into four categories: Humanities, Mathematics, Science, and Practical Skills."
Shirone counted on his fingers as he continued.
"The good news is, each of us has at least one area we can pass easily. More importantly, our strengths don’t overlap. I specialize in Humanities, Iruki in Mathematics, and Nade in Science. Practical Skills... well, we can’t really help each other there."
"So you’re suggesting we form a study group? Since we don’t need to study our strongest subjects, we can use that time to help each other’s weaknesses?"
"Yes. If we focus on the essential test-taking strategies that will get us past 80 points, our chances of success will be much higher. I think this plan can push us up to a 50 percent success rate."
The fact that they were this desperate meant they really didn’t want to end up with Canis and Arin as their seniors.
In fact, if all three of them wanted to get promoted, this was the only viable option.
"Alright, I’m in. Let’s head to the research room now and start planning. What do you think?"
Shirone didn’t waste a single moment.
’We need to master time management.’
An hour could slip by in an instant if one wasn’t conscious of it, but when divided into 10-minute blocks, it felt significantly longer and more manageable.
In other words, they would break a long, smooth hour into six segments and maintain peak efficiency throughout.
Instead of focusing on understanding concepts, they identified question patterns and analyzed the intentions of the examiners.
In this regard, the study group proved highly effective.
By supplementing each other’s weak points, Shirone was able to push his mock exam scores up to an average of 70 points.
But it wasn’t all smooth sailing.
Once they started studying, they realized that struggling in certain subjects wasn’t just due to laziness—it was a genuine issue of aptitude.
Iruki, in particular, had a massive gap between his proficiency in Humanities and Mathematics.
As he worked through the practice problems Shirone had given him, he put down his pen after just 30 minutes and stretched.
Shirone went through his answers one by one.
The more he checked, the more his hands trembled in frustration.
Now he understood why Humanities instructors despised grading Iruki’s tests.
"Hey! How the hell does ’You eat pasta, I will eat pasta’ make any sense? I explained how auxiliary particles work!"
"Why doesn’t it make sense? You eat pasta! I will eat pasta! It’s a perfectly clear sentence emphasizing independent subjects without any unnecessary expression."
For a moment, Shirone found the reasoning oddly convincing. But then, snapping back to reality, he shouted,
"That’s not the point! Language isn’t math! It’s a tool for expression, not proof! You have to read between the lines, not just separate sentences!"
"Damn it! What kind of nonsense is that? Math is supreme!"
"Shut up! I know you’re just being stubborn! Be honest, even you think it’s weird!"
"That’s just a matter of perception. Mathematically, there’s no issue. In a way, it’s almost philosophical."
Iruki took immense pride in defining things logically.
It was no wonder teachers had resorted to giving him zeros out of frustration.
Shirone played his trump card.
"Do you want to fail?"
Iruki begrudgingly surrendered.
There was no way he would allow himself to be stuck as Canis’s junior.
And so, their desperate study sessions continued.