[New Comments +23]
[New Recommendations +39]
[New notification received.]
[FlaccidEjaculation has supported you with 1,000G.]
'What?'
A sudden barrage of notifications filled my vision.
"A thousand Gold, Recommendations, and why are there so many Comments?"
When I focused a little, I could see the contents of the comments.
ㄴHey! Lucas! Can't you do it?!
ㄴLucas, King of Dicks. Damn......
ㄴHolding my breath until this gets rated 19+.
.
.
.
It seemed my dear readers had gotten the wrong idea.
Even if I did not look it, this body had no need to go out of its way to buy something like that. A man has his pride. I only bought it to find out how much a single Stat point increased things. Strength and Agility were not things I could measure intuitively, after all......
Ahem, ahem.
Anyway, I had newly acquired Points. I would decide how to use them after checking the size. More importantly, what bothered me most was that support notification.
"One thousand Gold......"
This was the second time.
Not 100 Gold, but a full one thousand.
Leaving aside the situation I was in, I felt overwhelmingly grateful. It felt as though I could sense their support. Recommendations, Favorites, Comments, and support all had different uses, but weren't they all things I needed in order to survive?
For the sake of their support alone, I resolved to survive for as long as I possibly could.
'Gold Shop.'
I decided to look through what I could buy.
Of course, I meant what I might be able to buy later, not right now.
The only things I could afford immediately would probably be Muscles for Show, hair removal, or Bad Breath Removal.
'Hm?'
There was one thing I had failed to notice earlier because the Point category had drawn my attention.
'Exchange......'
I never imagined there would actually be a currency-exchange function.
From a quick look, exchanging Points into Gold was impossible, but exchanging Gold into Points was allowed.
The rate was an awkward one to even curse at: 10:1.
One Point for every 10 Gold.
'Then if I include the support I just received, I could make 177 Points by simple calculation.'
Including the thirteen new Favorites and the two Points I had left, that made 177 Points.
Enough to raise seventeen Stats.
Of course, I was not insane enough to exchange everything for Points immediately. Analysis came first.
'I'll put it to good use, dear readers.'
I would never waste it on anything pointless.
[Purchased Length Increase +1.]
This was purely to determine the exact numerical increase. Ahem.
***
Time passed quickly, and before I knew it, the day of the interviews arrived.
I had accumulated 122 Points so far. If I included the additional support I had received and converted it, I could make roughly 450 Points in total.
Increasing a Stat was not particularly dramatic.
My conclusion was that I would need to raise one by around ten points—in other words, spend roughly 100 Points—before the effect became clearly noticeable.
So rather than investing in tiny increments, dumping a large amount into a single Stat would produce a much greater effect.
The problem was that I was absurdly weak.
Even if I dumped every last one of those Points into combat Stats, I would still be weaker than the brats who had come here to enroll.
But when I appeared before them for the first time, I needed to leave a powerful impression.
One way or another, I had to overwhelm them.
So my choice was-
[Purchased Presence +45.]
The Stat that could create the greatest synergy with Lucas's character setting.
I chose Presence.
***
"Interview applicants, please gather over here!"
"Applicants for the Faculty of Magic, this way!"
The day of Grasco's entrance interviews.
The grounds were packed with enough people to fill Grasco's enormous campus.
Teaching assistants from each faculty guided the applicants, doing everything they could to make sure everyone found the proper place.
However, there was one faculty that had absolutely no need for such efforts.
"Hmm......"
"We expected it, but this is overwhelming."
"To think all those people gathered because of Professor Lucas......"
It was the Faculty of Combat Studies.
Traditionally, Grasco's Faculty of Combat Studies had held less prestige than the other faculties.
But this year was different.
Professor Lucas's new class was opening.
Though it belonged to the Faculty of Combat Studies, it would have an entirely independent curriculum.
Above all, the obvious reason the class had drawn so much attention was its professor: Lucas, the Hero of the Eastern Front who had set the entire continent abuzz.
In fact, more than eighty percent of the Faculty of Combat Studies applicants gathered here had come because of Lucas's class.
There were so overwhelmingly many of them that they had practically created an order of their own.
The applicants themselves were nothing ordinary either.
Not only did many look obviously strong at a glance, there were active fighters who had already begun making names for themselves across the continent, as well as some of the continent's greatest talents.
With so many gifted people gathered in one place, it was only natural for ordinary applicants to feel intimidated.
Their gazes kept drifting toward that side, filled with admiration or jealousy.
"Excuse me, you need to fill this out. Stop staring over there."
"What? Ah, yes! I'm sorry."
"......I understand."
If not for the irritated urging of the teaching assistants, they might have continued staring in a daze.
"So, right here......"
"H-huh?"
But then someone appeared who instantly stole even the teaching assistants' attention.
"Professor Lucas!"
"The Hero of the Eastern Front!"
Lucas von Kraus.
A man who overwhelmed everyone's gaze merely by appearing.
ZING-
His Presence was so intense that it sent a tingle through their entire bodies.
Then his mouth opened.
"......Come in when you're ready."
Leaving behind that one short, weighty sentence, he turned around without the slightest hesitation.
The sight seemed to fully embody the title 'Hero of the Eastern Front.'
THUMP- THUMP-
Was that pounding heartbeat their own?
No.
It was not just theirs.
It belonged to everyone who had reacted to his appearance.
A man who could make hearts pound simply by appearing.
That was what an overwhelmingly powerful person looked like.
The applicants gathered in orderly fashion behind the place he had departed.
***
'Did I make a proper first impression with that?'
I nearly died of nerves.
My heart had been pounding loudly enough that even the amplification magic device I had attached in case my voice did not carry had picked it up perfectly.
Fortunately, no one seemed to have noticed.
My words came out short because I was nervous...... no, was it thanks to that?
Far more people had gathered than I had expected.
And with these eyes, I could intuitively 'see' how strong they were and just how extraordinary their potential was.
It was the effect of .
Those who stood above the rest gave off light.
The one that remained most strongly in my mind was an existence radiating light bright enough to be dazzling.
'All right, shall we enjoy a gacha game with a 100% success rate?'
Here I had documents containing information on the interview applicants, along with the eyes granted by .
With those two things combined, I was about to begin a draw that could never fail.
This was the perfect chance to strike back at this fucking trash game.
'Even you can't do anything about this.'
The people who would become my meat shields from now on.
"Come in."
The interviews began in earnest.
***
"Wow, look over there! Isn't that amazing?"
"Yes, Young Master. It certainly is."
"Renol! What's that?"
"That is, Young Master......"
Amid the tense atmosphere surrounding everyone else, there were two people who looked utterly out of place.
One was a bony boy sitting in a wheelchair.
The other unfailingly addressed the boy with honorifics and answered each of his questions with complete sincerity.
They looked as though they had come to visit an amusement park.
But their clothing and equipment were anything but ordinary.
The wheelchair alone was an expensive model bearing the unmistakable logo of Dust Industry, and even the person who appeared to be the boy's attendant was dressed head to toe in luxury brands.
They were clearly from a wealthy household.
Wealthy enough to dress even a servant in luxury goods.
Even in a place like this, there were always people whose eyes lit up when they saw that kind of wealth.
Those jackal-like people approached the pair.
"You seem to be enjoying your outing."
"Would you like us to show you around? I know Grasco like the back of my hand."
Their intentions were obvious.
The one pushing the wheelchair quietly sighed.
"That will not be necessary. The interview will begin soon anyway. Please do not do this. I am saying this for both your sakes."
"Renol, don't we still have plenty of time? I want to look around some more!"
"Young Master...... haaa......"
Those sparkling eyes.
That was the expression the boy wore when his curiosity reached its peak.
Once he made that face, trying to stop him was already hopeless.
"Yeees...... Very well."
The attendant weakly turned the wheelchair around.
The two jackals grinned as though a free rice cake had fallen into their laps.
'Tsk.'
There were several facts they had overlooked.
Would someone dressed in clothes that practically screamed, 'I come from money!' really enter such a crowded place without a single bodyguard?
And why was his frail-looking self the only one attending to such a precious young master?
......The answer was simple.
There was no need for anyone else.
That day, two people were disqualified from Grasco's interviews.
***
"Group A, Team 1, enter."
There were so many applicants that dividing them into Groups A through Z was not enough.
Each group had to be divided again into ten teams of ten people each.
You might think the more candidates, the better, but the successful applicants were practically predetermined anyway.
Considering that we still had to interview everyone else as a formality, it was actually horrifying.
After all, this was not just about choosing my meat shields.
We were selecting the entire freshman class for the Faculty of Combat Studies.
The professors of the Faculty of Combat Studies, including Harriet, poured out question after question as they tried to separate the gems from the stones.
I simply looked over the documents and the potential visible to my eyes, marking candidates separately.
"Do you have nothing you wish to ask?"
"......"
Right. Staying completely silent would make me look like an asshole too.
But I did not really have anything to ask......
Let's see. Some suitable question......
"Have you ever killed someone?"
"Excuse me? W-well......"
At my question, the applicant became flustered and started stammering.
Oops. Was that too mean?
I only asked because his face really looked like he might have killed someone before.
Apparently, despite his appearance, he was an extremely innocent fellow.
He floundered over his words at my question, then left the room shedding tears as big as chicken droppings.
This is awkward.
The interviews that followed went much the same way.
I forced myself to come up with questions, and the applicants who received them became flustered.
"I think it may be better if you refrain from asking questions."
At this point, the other professors actually started stopping me from asking anything.
That suited me just fine.
All I had to do was give the candidates a quick look and pick out only the kernels worth taking.
And so the interviews reached their midpoint.
"Finally."
The professors spoke almost simultaneously.
Including me, who had also been waiting for this group.
"It seems Professor Lucas has been waiting for that young man as well."
"Of course. He may very well be this year's most promising prospect."
"None of us expected young Jesse, called the greatest prodigy on the continent, to come to Grasco."
Ah, Jesse Athlon.
The treasure of Ermel or whatever?
"I wouldn't be so sure."
If it were up to me, I would never pick him.
"Hm? Then are you saying you were not waiting for young Jesse, Lucas?"
Of course not.
If anything, I would reject him.
He was absolutely not someone worth waiting for.
That bastard was the guy who sold Grasco out to the Demons......
In other words, he was basically a Yi Wan-yong-type traitor.
Since he's an Athlon...... a ‘pet’?
The person I had been waiting for was someone else entirely.
"Group K, Team 8, enter."
Ah, there they are.
The moment they entered, one person appeared wrapped from head to toe in a radiance visible only to me.
The Aewan-yong bastard beside them was giving off a remarkable radiance too, but it was nothing compared to this.
"Torres."
The greatest talent at Grasco this year.
My eyes guaranteed it.