The alarm blared in the early light of Chitungwiza, dragging me from a restless sleep. My muscles ached from two consecutive exam days. I felt every bit of it—the tension, the adrenaline, and the unrelenting pressure to perform. Chemistry. The subject that had once terrified me, now both a weapon and a trap.
Mama was already in the kitchen, preparing breakfast with her usual efficiency. She glanced at me, a soft smile playing on her lips.
"You'll do fine, my child," she said, placing a plate of sadza and eggs in front of me. "Just don't let exhaustion steal your mind."
I nodded, picking at the food. My appetite felt nonexistent, swallowed by nerves. Clifton peeked in, a teasing grin plastered on his face.
"Chemistry, huh? Don't blow anything up in the lab this time," he joked.
I smirked despite myself. "Just survive the paper, please."
Leratho toddled up, handing me a crumpled note she had drawn. It read: "Shelly Win Again!" Her childish scrawl made my chest ache with warmth.
I hugged her, whispering, "I'll try, Leratho. I'll try."
---
At Speciss College, the hall was quieter than previous days. The whispers still existed but seemed subdued, replaced by the heavy scent of exam tension. Students hunched over notes, trying to memorize last-minute reactions, formulas, and equations.
Ropa found me near the entrance, her eyes sharp. "Shelly, listen. Today is all about precision. Chemistry can't be rushed. Don't let anyone pressure you to hurry through."
I nodded, grateful for her presence. "I know. I'll focus."
The system pulsed softly in my vision:
> [Main Quest: O Level Chemistry Paper 1]
[Objective: Secure Distinction with accurate practical and theoretical answers]
[Reward: ZWD 1,500 | +3 Focus | +1 Academic Mastery]
[Warning: Time mismanagement may reduce score by 20%]
Time. The system's mention of time made my chest tighten. I had to manage it carefully. Rushing could cost me dearly.
---
Inside the exam hall, invigilators placed practical diagrams and chemical equations on each desk. The scent of antiseptic lingered faintly, mixing with the nervous energy of dozens of students.
"Begin."
I tore the envelope, scanning the paper. Organic reactions, ionic equations, molarity calculations. My heart stuttered. I could solve these—but under pressure, one small mistake could be catastrophic.
The system nudged me:
> [Decision Required: Attempt multiple-choice first for speed or start with calculations to secure marks?]
I hesitated. Multiple-choice could be faster, but a single wrong answer would be catastrophic. Calculations were safer but time-consuming.
I took a deep breath and chose calculations first. The system pulsed softly:
> [Optimal Choice: +5% Accuracy | -10% Time]
Minutes ticked by as my pen scratched across the page. Equations balanced. Reagents accounted for. Structures drawn meticulously. My focus was razor-sharp, every movement deliberate.
Around me, classmates whispered under their breath. A few eyed my medal, some with awe, others with suspicion. The whispers stung less now. I had learned to armor myself with focus.
---
Halfway through, panic struck. A complex titration question stared back at me like a challenge I might not survive. Time was slipping. My hand hovered over the answer, unsure.
The system pulsed urgently:
> [Quick Decision Needed: Submit estimated answer for speed or redo calculation for accuracy?]
I felt the sweat bead on my forehead. Accuracy could save me points, but risk losing time. I glanced at Ropa across the hall—her steady posture, her calm breathing. I imagined her voice: "Precision first. Don't let fear steal your mind."
I chose accuracy. My pen moved slowly but deliberately. The system chimed approvingly:
> [Choice Optimal: Accuracy Secured | Focus +5%]
Relief surged through me. I knew I had made the right call.
---
When the bell rang, I put down my pen, exhausted but victorious in my own way. Chemistry had nearly broken me, but I had survived. I looked around. Some students left with slumped shoulders, others whispered complaints about questions that "weren't fair."
Ropa met me outside. "How was it?"
I exhaled shakily. "Intense… but manageable. I… I think I did okay."
Her hand squeezed mine. "More than okay. You faced it, Shelly. That's what counts."
The medal at my neck felt heavier today—not because of pride, but as a reminder that expectations were piling higher.
The system pulsed again:
> [Quest Complete: Chemistry Paper 1]
[Reward: ZWD 1,500 | +3 Focus | +1 Academic Mastery | Confidence +3]
[New Sub-Quest: Balance Focus and Time for Remaining Exams]
I exhaled, leaning against the wall. Three papers down. Four to go. Exhaustion threatened to pull me under, but I lifted my head, clutching the medal, whispering:
"One step at a time. I can do this."
And for the first time that day, I believed it.