Nolan's gaze was fixed on the figure standing across the stadium floor—the Chief Mana Knight of Black Vale Territory.
Joules.
The name echoed faintly in his ears like a ghost's whisper, tugging at something deep within him.
A memory… but not his own. It didn't belong to Nolan—not the Nolan who came from Earth, with his cheat-like Internet access and reincarnated soul—but rather the Nolan whose body he now inhabited.
That long-dead noble boy with tangled family lines and buried ties to territories like Black Vale.
"…I should stay away from that guy," Nolan muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tilted his head down to avoid Joules' sweeping gaze.
A flicker of violet shimmered in the air behind him, unseen by all others. Lirazel, as ethereal as ever, floated lazily just inches above the ground, her wings folded neatly behind her. "Oh, that guy? I know him."
Nolan's neck tensed instantly. "Zip it."
"What?" she said with a purr. "He once tried to summon something he didn't understand. It backfired, of course. I was still in the higher realm back then—"
"Shut. It."
Although no one else could see or sense Lirazel—courtesy of her higher-realm origin and the veil of demonic stealth she brought with her—Nolan still felt a distinct chill crawl up his spine every time she opened her mouth.
Her voice was like a needle pressing against his sanity, subtle yet unbearable. He knew she enjoyed making him squirm.
He folded his arms and turned away, muttering, "You're not helping."
…
The voice of Professor Langren boomed once more, stealing everyone's attention with a fresh wave of amplified energy.
"As many of you know," he began, raising his staff high above his head, "the Baron of Black Vale has taken a special interest in supporting the small territories that surround his dominion—including our beloved Silver Blade City!"
The stadium erupted with deafening applause. From every corner, cheers burst forth like rolling thunder, whistles and chants shaking the very stone beneath their feet.
"This partnership means employment, advancement, opportunity! So to the students of Silver Blade Academy… show off! Prove your worth! Display the power this land has forged into your bones! Let them know that the fire of our blades, the mana in our hearts, and the pride of our bloodline are worth investing in!"
The crowd exploded into chaos. Magic flares lit up the skies like fireworks. Ñ
Some conjurers in the stands let loose dazzling spells that burst into phoenix-shaped fire.
Cheers echoed off the walls, layered and distorted, creating a symphony of clamor.
Students stood and waved their weapons in excitement, while nobles in velvet-lined booths clapped with practiced grace.
The entire coliseum had become a riot of color and noise.
The assessment began immediately after, with various sections of the field lighting up in arcane formations.
Knights, mages, and hybrid warriors from the student body dashed into their designated areas, taking on all manner of preliminary trials—strength measurements, mana capacity, reaction speed, spell control, and even tactical formation breakdowns.
It was an all-out show of raw talent and potential.
But Nolan?
He was sweating bullets.
Where the hell are they?
His hands trembled slightly as he scanned the entire arena again.
Still no sign of Room 33. Not a single one of his so-called "students" had arrived.
The group of delinquent nobles, the future headaches of the academy—and the reason he was even eligible to gain system rewards—were missing.
"This can't be happening," Nolan whispered, biting his thumb knuckle in a panic. "I need them to show up."
The system mission loomed over his head like an executioner's blade.
If he didn't complete the assessment objectives assigned to him through the System, he would be locked out of his Internet powers for an entire year.
A year without games that gives him power up.
A year without cheating abilities.
A year without thrill.
Hell.
He turned, glaring at Lirazel with desperation in his eyes. "If I fail this mission, and I lose the Internet ability, I'll have to—"
"Copulate with me?" she said sweetly.
He clenched his jaw and looked away.
"Just say the word," she whispered near his ear. "I'll protect you so well."
"Not. Helping."
…
Just when Nolan was about to consider faking a heart attack and disappearing from the stadium, a familiar voice called out behind him.
"Well, well. Looks like I'm not too late to enjoy the festival."
Nolan turned his head slowly to see none other than Professor Granfire—dressed in a freshly pressed ceremonial coat, his signature walking staff slung across his shoulder.
The man strolled up with a self-important gait, flanked by a group of students… including, finally, the lazy, arrogant brats from Room 33.
Granfire didn't even acknowledge their prior encounter. "These little troublemakers finally decided to join," he announced loudly, as if Nolan should be grateful. "The one in the red scarf set his room on fire last night, so we had to delay. The twins fought a butcher on the street. And as for the elf girl? Don't ask."
Nolan didn't care. His eyes were locked on the students as if they were holy relics descending from the heavens.
"Huh…" he muttered. "No… that's not them," muttered, and added, "where are they?"
"You look pale," Granfire commented, tilting his head. "Nervous?"
"Shut up."
Granfire's smile faded slightly, but he continued talking with that same casual arrogance. "Anyway, although I hate to admit it… you scared me last time. I've been teaching here for decades, and no one's ever made me consider early retirement with one conversation. So—against my pride—here."
He pulled a small pouch from inside his coat and tossed it to Nolan.
Nolan caught it and peeked inside—150 gleaming Mana Crystals.
His eyes widened. "You actually remembered…"
Granfire gave a dismissive shrug. "I've got a reputation to maintain. If word gets out that I welched on a bet, I'd be pestered by half the nobility. Besides…"
His gaze darkened. "This is the last time I'm dealing with you."
That part Nolan didn't mind. But as Granfire turned to walk away, he paused and glanced back over his shoulder.
"Oh, and one last thing. That fake undead you conjured during the special realm session… how the hell did you do it? That thing looked real."
Nolan snorted. "It wasn't real. Just a scene from a movie. You ever heard of CGI?"
Granfire blinked. "Cee…gee…what?"
Nolan smirked. "Exactly."
Granfire narrowed his eyes but said nothing. Secrets are secrets, he thought to himself. You bastard…
Still, he didn't press the issue. Whatever methods Nolan used, they were obviously still under the rules of magic. But it also wasn't worth pushing.
…
Suddenly, the announcer's voice cut through the stadium once more, shaking the very bones of the arena.
"Now! For the final segment of today's celebration! The special test! The true test that our honored guest, Chief Mana Knight Joules of Black Vale, has personally arranged as a gift to the academy!"
A series of arcane lights sparked along the center of the stadium floor.
Runes flared to life as ground panels slid open, revealing a massive platform rising from below.
A thick iron cage—veiled in crimson cloth and held down by enchanted chains—emerged with slow, grinding menace.
The aura it exuded was heavy, almost suffocating.
Gasps filled the crowd.
The excitement, once boisterous and celebratory, now twisted into something sharper—electric with anticipation, tinged with dread.
Nolan's breath caught.
Whatever was inside that cage…
Wasn't human.