Testing and Witch Doctors

Before long, the day of the test arrived.

The testing method was not complicated. The tribe's three Witch Doctors brought out tree-bark "textbooks" whose pages could be turned. After dividing the children into groups, they flipped through the pages before each child at a pace that was not slow, yet was enough for them to clearly see the illustrations carved upon them.

Afterward, the children were asked to copy and reproduce as much of the textbook's contents as possible from memory.

The textbooks displayed patterns made as regular as possible. The Witch Doctors were fair as well. It was every child's first time seeing those patterns, so there was no chance of prior memorization.

The little Troll's group finished the presentation stage at almost the same time as the other two groups. Yet unlike the other children, he did not immediately begin reproducing what he had seen. Instead, he blankly closed his eyes.

Am I really this gifted?

Reviewing the contents that remained mostly clear in his mind, the little Troll felt uncertain. Having never experienced the joys of being a top student in his previous life, he quickly became delighted.

Could the combined mental strength of two lives affect my memory?

Though he had never heard of so-called "mental strength" in this life, he had read plenty of miscellaneous novels in his previous one.

So, the little Troll casually applied a concept whose truth he did not know and happily enjoyed the feeling of having a photographic memory.

Of course, judging by the final result, he was still some distance from truly possessing a photographic memory. Many details differed in his reproduction. Even so, it gave the old Witch Doctors quite a fright. All three gathered around him and conducted a series of additional tests to verify it.

In the end, they cheered and declared the little Troll the most talented Witch Doctor Apprentice in history.

Um, though strictly speaking, they had no concept of "history."

Moreover, among this batch of little Trolls only thigh-high, he was the only one to pass the test and become a Witch Doctor Apprentice. The other children's results were ordinary. By experience, they were not suited to becoming Witch Doctors.

Though he still did not know whether Witch Doctors truly had any ability, the little Troll was still very happy. After living two lives, he had finally been "special" in a good way for once.

This feels amazing.

Thinking so, he accepted his newly given name according to tradition. The little Troll—no, from now on, he should be called Blade Tusk.

Thus, Blade Tusk left with the Witch Doctors. From this day onward, he would begin studying to become a Witch Doctor.

Don't give me that "from now onward" crap. Once I have any say in the matter, I'm definitely changing this stupid name.

While mentally mocking his new name, Blade Tusk made another decision.

Just because I'm starting to study Witch Doctor arts doesn't mean I can stop training my body.

On one hand, there was the psychological trauma left by his sudden death from overwork in his previous life. On the other, he did not entirely trust the methods of the Witch Doctors.

That distrust was shattered with astonishing speed. The somewhat younger of the three Witch Doctors soon performed something that utterly overturned Blade Tusk's worldview.

After leaving the testing site, the Witch Doctors led Blade Tusk to an unremarkable courtyard at the center of the "kindergarten." After telling him to wait, one of them went inside and brought out an irregular crystal.

"Blade Tusk, learn. Witch Doctor power."

With that, the Witch Doctor raised the crystal in his hand. He merely closed his eyes slightly, and a pale blue, crescent-shaped blade visibly formed before his hand, then shot out at incredible speed.

With a sharp whoosh, a deep slash appeared in the firmly trampled ground ahead.

"This..."

Blade Tusk stared wide-eyed. Though he had long been prepared for the nature of this world, he still found it unbelievable when this fantastical sight truly appeared before him.

"See? Witch Doctor, knowledge, power. Stronger, see later. But stronger, greater cost."

The Witch Doctor who had fired the crescent blade was breathing slightly heavily as he spoke. Blade Tusk keenly sensed a decline in his vitality and spirit.

Since it was merely to broaden his horizons, the initial lesson ended there. The Witch Doctors sent him back to pack his things, telling him that formal study would begin after he moved in tomorrow.

Not understanding what this so-called "cost" actually meant, Blade Tusk left with a heart full of joy. He packed everything that very day and moved into the Witch Doctors' courtyard overnight.

Magic! I'm going to learn magic!

For the entire night, he was immersed in fantasies about the future. Things like teleporting right into someone's face, locking them down with time stop, and then blasting them with seventeen or eighteen attack spells naturally kept him awake.

On the new day, though he was slightly listless, Blade Tusk was waiting outside the Old Witch Doctor's door early in the morning, looking as though he wanted to knock but hesitated. Fortunately, he did not wait long. The three Witch Doctors emerged from their respective rooms. After greeting one another, the oldest took charge of teaching him, while the two younger ones left hunched over. In such a large tribe, with only three Witch Doctors in total, there was always endless work to do.

The Old Witch Doctor led Blade Tusk to another part of the courtyard, before a large building resembling a storeroom. Once the door was opened, rows of wooden shelves stretched inward. The Old Witch Doctor led him through them, introducing each row.

Among them were the tree-bark "books" he had seen before. These things were crude to begin with, and limited by processing conditions, each "page" was quite thick. Since they had no writing and consisted entirely of pictures, each "book" could record only a small amount of information.

As a result, these books alone occupied most of the storeroom.

"Bark, knowledge. Magic beasts, Magic Cores; herbs, effects; traps, prey. But spoil, must rewrite. Records, don't understand, Witch Doctor explain."

Blade Tusk nodded to show his understanding. Without accompanying written annotations, hand-drawn things could become completely unrecognizable after just one generation.

"Bark, damp, bugs eat, must check. Damaged, redo. You, not yet. After all explained, then can. Later, you explain too."

He could understand this part as well. For instance, the same thing drawn by earlier generations and later generations would certainly differ. After generations of repairs and revisions, even a square could become a circle. Therefore, only by understanding what earlier generations had depicted could one alter it into something easier for oneself to remember and comprehend while repairing and revising it.

This series of exchanges made Blade Tusk somewhat emotional.

Judging solely by the Trolls' current means of passing things down, it was already incredible that they could preserve knowledge in an orderly fashion until now with an extremely underdeveloped language system paired with all manner of pictorial records.

A considerable part of the credit had to go to the Witch Doctors' developed mental abilities. In their brief interactions, Blade Tusk had clearly sensed how different the Witch Doctors were from ordinary Trolls. They were more logical, and their thinking was more active. It was only their language system that limited them, making them sound somewhat foolish when they spoke.

The clearest example was the previous testing material. Within the same amount of time, the Witch Doctors could memorize and accurately reproduce two or three times more content than he could.

If nothing unexpected happened, the first traces of civilization might soon begin with these Witch Doctors.

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