The atmosphere in the Imperial Academy had shifted from buzzing excitement to a suffocating, heavy dread.

It was Mid-Term Assessment Week.

The library was packed twenty-four hours a day. Students walked the corridors with dark circles under their eyes, clutching textbooks like holy scriptures, muttering formulas for mana conversion under their breath. Even the rowdy combat-focused cadets were silent, terrified of the History of Magic paper.

I sat in the cafeteria, which had been converted into a makeshift study hall.

"Explain the Third Law of Elemental Resonance again?" Mariella whimpered, her head on the table. "I don't get how Fire interacts with Water without creating steam explosions."

"It's about the mana density, not the physical state," I replied without looking up from my notes. "If the Fire mana is condensed into a plasma state, it bypasses the vaporization phase. It's on page 342."

"You're a walking encyclopedia, I swear," Elisha sighed, spinning a quill.

She looked at me, a competitive glint in her eyes.

"Though, don't think being smart will help you in the Ranged Practical next week. I beat your score on the moving targets yesterday."

I smirked.

"You hit 48 out of 50. I hit 49."

"You used a shotgun! The spread makes it easier!"

"I used a slug. Precision, elf. Look it up."

Over the past week, a strange dynamic had formed. With Kael gone, the "Protagonist Party" had drifted toward me—mostly because Ariana was the bridge, and Celestia was curious.

Elisha, in particular, had taken a liking to our rivalry. As the only two dedicated ranged fighters in the top rankings (she with her bow, me with my guns), we had spent the last few afternoons at the range, trying to out-shoot each other. It was… surprisingly fun.

"Focus," Celestia chided gently, though she looked exhausted too. "If we fail the theory, we don't get to participate in the field exam."

Ariana, sitting beside me, handed me a small vial of blue liquid.

"Mental Clarity Potion," she whispered. "I made a fresh batch."

"Thanks, Alchemist."

The mood was almost domestic. Tense because of the exams, but comfortable.

Then, the cafeteria doors slammed open.

The chatter stopped. The rustling of pages ceased.

Standing in the doorway was a figure we hadn't seen for seven days.

Kael.

He looked different. He wasn't wearing his usual bright smile. His uniform was crisp, but his face was gaunt, his eyes burning with a mix of exhaustion and pent-up anger. He looked like a man who had spent a week in solitary confinement stewing on his own righteousness.

He scanned the room.

His eyes locked onto our table.

He saw Celestia reviewing notes with me. He saw Elisha laughing at something I said. He saw Bordon stealing fries from my tray.

The betrayal flashed across his face, followed immediately by a hardening of his jaw.

He marched straight toward us.

"Kael!" Mariella sat up, looking guilty. "You're back!"

Kael ignored her. He stopped right in front of me, looming over the table.

"Enjoying yourself, Ashborne?"

His voice was low, trembling with suppressed mana.

I slowly closed my book. I looked up at him, my expression bored.

"I was, until about ten seconds ago. Welcome back from your vacation."

"Vacation?" Kael let out a harsh laugh. "Is that what you call it? Getting suspended because you baited me?"

"I didn't bait you into punching me, Kael," I said calmly. "You have a temper. You lost control. You paid the price. That's how the world works."

"You manipulated the situation," Kael hissed, leaning down, his hands slamming onto the table. "You knew exactly what buttons to push. You hid behind the rules like a coward because you knew you couldn't face me."

"Kael, stop," Celestia stood up, her voice firm. "Not here. Not now."

Kael looked at her, hurt in his eyes.

"You're sitting with him? After what he did to me?"

"We are studying," Celestia said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "And you were the one who broke the rules, Kael. We discussed this."

Kael looked around the table. Elisha looked away. Bordon scratched his head awkwardly.

He was alone.

He looked back at me, his golden eyes blazing.

"This isn't over, Lucien. The theory exam is today. But the Practical is next week."

He straightened up.

"I'm going to crush you. I'll show everyone that cheap tricks and rules don't measure up to real strength."

"I look forward to it," I replied, checking my watch. "But you might want to find a seat. The exam starts in five minutes."

Kael scoffed and stormed off to a solitary table in the far corner.

Ariana squeezed my hand under the table.

"He's intense," she whispered.

"He's desperate," I corrected. "And a desperate hero is a dangerous thing."

****

DONG— DONG—

The Great Bell of the Academy tolled.

"Clear your tables!"

A legion of proctors swarmed the room, replacing food trays with thick stacks of parchment and enchanted quills that prevented cheating.

"Mid-Term Assessment: Magical Theory and History," the Head Proctor announced, his voice magically amplified.

"You have six hours. No talking. No looking around. If you are caught cheating, you will be expelled immediately."

He raised a sandglass.

"Begin."

The sound of hundreds of quills scratching against parchment filled the hall instantly.

I flipped the first page.

[Question 1: Explain the geopolitical implications of the Third Demon War and how it influenced the current treaty with the Dwarven Kingdom.]

I smiled.

I had played Asteria Online for thousands of hours. I had read every lore book, every item description, every dialogue tree.

I dipped my quill in ink.

While other students were sweating, trying to recall dates and names, I was simply writing down the history of a world I knew better than my own.

The atmosphere in the Grand Hall was suffocating. The air was heavy, not just with the scent of old parchment and ink, but with the palpable anxiety of five hundred students.

Scritch. Scratch. Scritch.

The sound of quills on paper sounded like an army of insects.

I paused to flex my hand, glancing around the room.

To my left, a noble son from House Vermillion was staring blankly at the ceiling, his mouth slightly open, as if praying for the answers to descend from the heavens. He was sweating so profusely that his collar was soaked.

Two rows down, a student was trying to be clever. He had cast a subtle [Far-Sight] spell on his glasses, angling his head to catch the answers of the girl sitting in front of him.

Zap.

A small spark of red electricity shot from the ceiling, zapping the student's glasses.

"Ack!"

"Cadet Miller," the Head Proctor's voice boomed without him even looking up from his podium. "Minus fifty points. Your glasses are confiscated. Continue."

The student went pale, removed his glasses, and squinted miserably at his paper.

I suppressed a chuckle and looked back at my test.

[Question 12: Calculate the mana efficiency degradation of a Standard Fireball Spell when cast in a heavy rain environment. Show your formula.]

'Easy. Water vapor increases resistance by factor K. You have to account for the Leidenfrost effect on the mana shell.'

I scribbled the formula down effortlessly. To the locals, this was complex magical physics. To me, it was just the damage calculation mechanic I used to maximize DPS in raids.

[Question 25: Identify the venom gland location of a Sand Scorpion and the antidote brewing time.]

'Located in the tail segment, third ridge. Antidote takes 15 minutes at low boil with Cactus Flower.'

I wrote it down.

Time blurred. The sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long, orange shadows across the rows of desks.

Across the aisle, I saw Bordon gripping his quill like a dagger. He looked like he was trying to intimidate the paper into giving him the answers. He had written three lines in two hours.

Further up, Mariella was writing furiously, her hair a mess, muttering, "Don't forget the catalyst, don't forget the catalyst…"

And Kael…

He was hunched over, isolated in the corner. He wasn't looking around. He wasn't cheating. He was attacking the exam with the same desperate intensity he brought to a fight. He was writing fast, messy, determined not to let me beat him even in this.

"Five minutes remaining!" the Proctor announced.

Panic rippled through the hall.

The scratching sound became a frantic, desperate scribble. Pages were flipped aggressively. Someone in the back was definitely crying quietly.

I dotted the final period on my essay regarding [The Ethics of Necromancy in the Post-War Era].

I set my quill down and leaned back, cracking my neck.

"Pencils down!"

"No! Just one more sente—"

"I said down! Seal your scrolls!"

A wave of magic swept through the room, forcibly drying the ink and rolling the scrolls shut.

"The exam is concluded. Leave your papers. Dismissed."

Thump. Thump.

Heads hit desks.

"Oh my god…"

"I'm dead. I'm actually dead."

"What the hell was Question 40? Since when do Wyverns have a secondary stomach?"

"I wrote 'yes' for the essay. Just 'yes'."

The students shuffled out of their seats, looking like zombies.

"Whatever," one guy muttered, loosening his tie. "It's over. If I failed, I failed. I need a drink."

"Fuck that test," another groaned. "Who cares about history? I'm here to kill monsters, not write about them."

Ariana walked over to me, rubbing her wrist. She looked tired but relieved.

"How did you do?" she asked.

"I think I aced it," I replied honestly. "You?"

"I did okay on the potion theory," she sighed. "But the battle tactics section… I just guessed."

Celestia and the others joined us near the exit. Even the Princess looked drained.

"That was… rigorous," Celestia admitted, smoothing her skirt.

"Rigorous? It was torture," Elisha complained. "Why do I need to know the export tax rate of the Dwarven Kingdom?"

"To know why arrows are expensive," I quipped.

As we walked out into the cool evening air, I looked back.

Kael was the last one to leave his desk. He stared at his sealed scroll for a long moment, wiped the sweat from his brow, and walked out alone, his eyes fixed on the ground.

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