Philip waited for the murmurs in the assembly hall to die down before continuing his presentation. He had expected the first part of the proposal to generate questions, but the sections that followed would undoubtedly invite even more discussion. Rather than allowing the delegates to interrupt every few minutes, he decided it would be better to answer several of their most obvious concerns before they had the chance to ask them. That approach had worked well during the preliminary negotiations, and he hoped it would keep today's meeting moving at a steady pace.
"Now," Philip began as he advanced to the next slide, "before I answer your questions, I'd like to address several issues that I expect many of you are already thinking about."
A new series of charts appeared on the enormous display behind him. Instead of focusing on the military, this slide centered entirely on the educational portion of the proposal. Several delegates immediately leaned forward, realizing that this was where the remaining twenty percent of the alliance score would be determined.
"The student category," Philip continued, "is intended to evaluate the future potential of each participating nation."
He allowed those words to settle before elaborating further.
"To ensure a fair comparison, we propose that only university students who are twenty-five years of age or younger may participate."
A few delegates quietly nodded.
The age limit had been discussed extensively during the European Union's internal meetings. Setting it too low would exclude many promising students who entered higher education later in life, while setting it too high would allow experienced professionals to compete against ordinary university students. Twenty-five represented a compromise that most educational experts considered both practical and fair.
Philip continued without hesitation.
"Our intention is not merely to evaluate future military officers."
He gestured toward the screen.
"We want to measure the future strength of an entire nation."
That distinction immediately caught everyone's attention.
Many countries had expected the educational competition to focus almost exclusively on military academies. Instead, the proposal treated universities as one of the primary foundations of a nation's future prosperity. In Philip's eyes, a country's scientists, engineers, doctors, craftsmen, and adventurers would ultimately contribute just as much to humanity's survival as its soldiers.
"Because of that," Philip explained, "we have divided the educational category into several separate competitions."
Another chart appeared.
Each section was color-coded, making the proposed distribution easy to understand at a glance.
"The total educational score represents twenty percent of a nation's final evaluation."
He pointed toward the first section.
"The first five percent belongs to future officers."
A diagram illustrating a tactical battlefield appeared on the display.
"Officer candidates will enter the proving grounds and command a unit of one hundred soldiers."
Philip folded his hands behind his back.
"They will be evaluated on leadership, tactical judgment, decision-making under pressure, and their ability to accomplish assigned objectives."
Several military representatives immediately began taking notes.
Unlike traditional written examinations, this competition would test practical leadership rather than theoretical knowledge alone. Students could no longer simply memorize doctrine. Instead, they would need to demonstrate that they could adapt to rapidly changing situations while maintaining control over the soldiers under their command.
Philip advanced to the next section.
"The second five percent focuses on ordinary universities."
That statement surprised several delegates.
"Rather than military academies," he continued, "each nation will nominate a team from one civilian university."
The display changed once again.
"This team will consist of ordinary students."
He deliberately emphasized the final words.
"They will participate in a tournament or trial within the proving grounds."
Philip smiled slightly.
"We have not yet finalized the exact format."
A few quiet chuckles spread throughout the chamber.
"That," he admitted, "is one of the reasons we are presenting this proposal today."
He looked around the room.
"We welcome your suggestions."
The honesty earned several approving nods.
Unlike many international proposals that arrived fully completed, the European Union openly admitted where additional expertise was needed. It demonstrated that the framework remained flexible and that other nations still had an opportunity to shape its final form.
Philip continued to the third category.
"The next five percent concerns professions."
This time...
He paused for noticeably longer.
"As many of you are aware," he said carefully, "this is currently the least developed section of the proposal."
No one looked surprised.
The number of recognized professions had grown enormously since the System's arrival. Blacksmiths, herbalists, carpenters, architects, healers, fishermen, miners, merchants, farmers, cooks, enchanters, scribes, and countless other professions all contributed to civilization in different ways. Comparing their achievements fairly was far more complicated than simply measuring military performance.
"Our database is not yet comprehensive enough," Philip admitted.
He advanced to another slide showing a long list of professions.
"We do not currently possess enough information to determine which professions should compete directly against one another and which should be evaluated separately."
The challenge became immediately obvious.
Comparing a master blacksmith to an accomplished physician made very little sense. Likewise, evaluating a legendary farmer using the same criteria as a skilled architect would inevitably produce unfair results. Every profession excelled in completely different areas, making objective comparison extremely difficult.
"For that reason," Philip continued, "we are specifically requesting feedback from every delegation present."
He looked across the assembly hall.
"If your governments possess additional data or practical suggestions, we would greatly appreciate your cooperation."
Several delegates immediately exchanged glances with their advisors.
This section would undoubtedly become one of the most heavily debated aspects of the proposal. At the same time, everyone recognized its importance. Humanity's future depended upon far more than military strength, and professions represented the foundation upon which every civilization was ultimately built.
Philip allowed the discussion to settle before moving to the final educational category.
"The last five percent concerns individual students."
A new image of the proving grounds appeared behind him.
"Each participating student will undertake an adventure trial within the proving grounds."
Unlike the officer competition, this challenge focused entirely on individual ability.
Students would need to rely upon their own judgment, survival skills, adaptability, and decision-making while navigating unfamiliar environments. Success would not depend solely upon physical strength but also upon observation, resource management, and problem-solving under pressure.
"The purpose," Philip explained, "is to evaluate qualities that cannot easily be measured inside a classroom."
Several education ministers quietly nodded.
No written examination could truly measure courage, adaptability, or the ability to remain calm while facing danger. Those qualities only revealed themselves when people encountered genuine hardship. The proving grounds offered exactly the controlled environment needed to test such characteristics fairly.
Philip stepped away from the podium for a moment.
"So..."
He smiled faintly.
"That completes the proposed twenty percent educational category."
Most delegates appeared satisfied.
The structure felt balanced.
Each section rewarded a different aspect of national development while avoiding excessive emphasis on any single discipline. Military leadership, civilian education, professional expertise, and individual capability all contributed equally to the overall educational score.
Just as several delegates prepared to ask questions...
Philip raised a hand.
"There is one final proposal."
The room immediately quieted again.
"This proposal does not form part of the one hundred percent alliance score."
That announcement immediately captured everyone's attention.
"If approved," Philip continued, "it will exist entirely outside the normal competition."
He advanced to the next slide.
A bold heading appeared.
Young Scientific Innovation Bonus
Several delegates instinctively straightened in their seats.
"We propose creating an additional five percent bonus category."
Philip spoke slowly, making sure every translation device had time to keep pace.
"This category is reserved exclusively for young scientists."
Another chart appeared beneath the title.
"To qualify, an inventor must be under thirty years of age."
He pointed toward the requirements listed on the screen.
"The innovation may consist of a new technology, a scientific breakthrough, or an important theoretical discovery."
Philip folded his hands once more.
"The only requirement is that it must provide a meaningful benefit to humanity."
That condition immediately drew widespread interest.
Rather than rewarding inventions that merely generated profit, the proposal encouraged discoveries that genuinely advanced civilization. Medical treatments, agricultural improvements, engineering breakthroughs, magical research, or entirely new theories all qualified, provided they demonstrated practical value.
"Verification," Philip continued, "will be handled through the System."
Several eyebrows rose.
"The inventor simply signs a System Contract confirming that the work is genuinely their own."
He paused.
"The System itself verifies the claim."
A wave of quiet discussion spread throughout the chamber.
The delegates immediately understood the significance.
Ordinary patent systems required lengthy investigations, legal disputes, and expensive court proceedings. By allowing the System to verify authorship directly, countless disputes could be avoided before they even began.
Philip smiled.
"In return..."
He advanced to the final slide.
"The inventor will receive a ten-year patent."
The room remained completely silent.
"For those ten years," Philip continued, "no individual, company, or government may legally reproduce that invention anywhere in the world without permission."
The implications were enormous.
Inventors would finally possess meaningful protection for their work while still being encouraged to share discoveries that benefited humanity. At the same time, nations would have powerful incentives to invest in research and education, knowing that successful innovations could generate both prestige and economic rewards.
Philip finally stopped speaking.
He reached for the glass of water waiting on the podium.
Only now did he realize how dry his throat had become after speaking almost continuously since the meeting began. Taking a long drink, he allowed himself a brief moment to rest before the inevitable flood of questions that would soon follow.