────────────────────────────
[EMERGENCY QUEST COMPLETED!]
• Objective Achieved: Structural Integrity Maintained.
• Rewards Granted: +5 Mana
• Current Mana Total: 28
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The system notification chimed softly in the back of my mind, signaling the end of the countdown.
I immediately broke the kiss and pulled back, catching my breath as I let go of her waist.
Silence swallowed the bedroom.
The floating curtains dropped back into place with a dull thud.
The howling wind was gone, same as the thunder that has been happening outside the building.
The only sound left in the room was the ambient hum of the dorm’s heating hearth and our ragged breathing.
Luna remained sat on my lap, utterly frozen. Her face wasn’t just red anymore— it was a deep, glowing shade of magenta that extended all the way down to her neck and ears.
Her hand hovered uselessly near her face, her fingers gently touching her wet, swollen lips as if she couldn’t comprehend what had just happened.
I cleared my throat awkwardly, sitting up slightly and rubbing the back of my neck. "Uh... sorry. You were about to destroy the BUILDING. And I kind of panicked."
That finally broke her brain out of its HIGH STATE... (idk the word)
Luna gasped, snapped both hands over her face to completely hide her expression, and scrambled off my lap so fast she nearly tripped over her own dropped shirt.
"S-SHUT UP! YOU WOMANIZER!" her voice squeaked out from behind her hands, muffled and vibrating with sheer embarrassment. "Just... just go to the academy without me today! I’m taking a sick day! I’m marking myself absent!"
I blinked, looking at the shattered vase on the floor and then at her trembling back as she buried herself under a mountain of blankets. "Are you sure? I made fire-tail steak for breakfast—"
"GET OUT!" a pillow flew through the air, narrowly missing my nose and flying down and slamming into the doorframe behind.
"Right. Got it."
I went down at the top of the bunk bed, buttoned my shirt the rest of the way, and slipped out of the dorm room before any more household appliances could be weaponized against me.
***
Twenty minutes later, I was standing outside the massive, looming wrought-iron gates of Vahard Magic Academy.
The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of ozone and enchanted flora from the surrounding courtyard gardens.
Hundreds of students dressed in pristine white and black elite uniforms were streaming through the entrance, chatting loudly about upcoming combat assessments, guild sponsorships, and dungeon assignments.
I pulled my jacket collar up, and let out a long, heavy sigh that felt like it came from the very bottom of my soul.
I survived the morning, I thought, watching a group of upperclassmen casually float past on low-tier mana discs.
I gained five mana though.
I didn’t get expelled. But now I have to face Professor Myra, a class full of people— actually... just 6 people I guess... or 7 —who think I harassed Hana in the duel arena.
I took a deep breath, buried my hands in my pockets, and stepped through the academy gates.
"Time for another fantastic day in paradise."
***
Walking down the pristine, vaulted marble corridors of Vahard Magic Academy was always an exercise in endurance.... Yea, even though this is just my 2nd time.
As I made my way toward the main academic wing, I could instantly feel the shifting gaze of every student we passed.
Whispers rippled through the hallway like A— you know, those gossipers you get in your neighborhood, usually the aunts.
Eye contact followed me like guided missiles, accompanied by hushed chatter and sudden, poorly hidden glances.
For me? I actually couldn’t care less.
After surviving a succubus on my first night and nearly getting atomized by high-tier flame magic yesterday, a few petty rumors felt about as threatening as a lukewarm breeze. Haha, I feel poetic.
Well, good thing is, I was still breathing, and have 28 mana sitting quietly in my status panel, and I wasn’t currently being incinerated.
As far as I was concerned, I was an immovable object— completely unbothered, mildly exhausted, and surprisingly content just to be alive.
Further down the hall, two girls leaning against a row of brass-trimmed pillars caught my eye.
The shorter one had cropped red hair, whispering frantically into the ear of her companion— a taller girl with long, matching crimson hair who looked remarkably similar.
Probably sisters.
The short-haired girl burst into loud, obnoxious laughter, pointing a finger in my direction, while the long-haired sister forced a tight, awkward giggle, clearly far less enthusiastic about mocking random strangers.
Right. A brat and a kind one. Classic sibling dynamic.
I ignored them entirely, keeping my pace steady as I passed by the lower-tier classrooms.
On the ground floor sat F-Class and E-Class— vast, overcrowded lecture halls crammed with over a hundred students each.
They possessed decent mana pools, maybe a hundred or so, but lacked any recognized talent, unique arts, or noble lineage.
Higher up were D-Class and C-Class, where skilled elementalists, future guild operatives, and national defense recruits trained in high-tech simulation chambers.
And then, at the very top of the academy’s absurd food chain, was our floor: A-Class.
Vahard didn’t exactly do subtlety with its class rankings. If you wanted to know exactly how replaceable you were, all you had to do was check which hallway you’d been assigned to.
Right. Realizing I still needed to grab my materials for the morning lecture, I took a detour toward the locker bay.
The rows of sleek, enchanted steel lockers lined the grand hall like silver monoliths.
I located mine, tapped the mana pad to unlock the latch, and swung the door open to retrieve a standard wooden focus wand and a random, overly thick whatever book happened to be sitting closest to the front.
Before I could shut the locker, a loud whisper echoed from the surrounding.
"Hey, look... that’s him."
"The manaless guy from yesterday’s duel?"
"Wait, he actually survived Hana Emberlyn’s Inferno Sphere? What was that, pure luck?"
"Luck? Are you crazy? Didn’t you hear what happened in the fight? He didn’t dodge— he tackled her, hugged her, and kissed her then when everything in the arena was gulf in flame, you know you can’t see inside right? So, Inside they were actually having a LOVEY DOVEY INTERACTION!!!!"
2WHAG THE FUCK!?
SLAM.
I slammed my locker door shut so hard the metal echoed like a gunshot through the corridor.
The entire hallway froze.
Every head snapped toward me, students standing paralyzed in mid-sentence.
I let out a low, tired breath, completely unbothered by their terrified stares... probably. And prepared to walk away.
Then, standing right beside my locker, I noticed a girl staring up at me.
She was clutching a heavy leather binder against her chest like a shield.
Messy, waist-length dark purple hair fell around her shoulders in soft waves, and oversized gold-rimmed cardigan sleeves draped over her hands.
Thick round glasses sat on the bridge of her nose, slightly crooked.
Lyra Virell.
She was one of the seven elite students in my class.
Despite her quiet, almost invisible presence, she was a literal genius— yesterday during Professor Myra’s intense theory interrogation following my explosive duel, Lyra had answered every obscure historical and magical question without missing a single sec.
I stopped, turning my head to stare at her.
As the silence stretched between us, Lyra’s cheeks suddenly flushed a deep pink.
She flinched, dropped her gaze to her shoes, and began nervously fidgeting with the hem of her oversized cardigan. "U-uh... hello... s-sir Rex..."
Oh. Smart, but that’s about where the skill tree stopped.
"Hey. Sup. You headed to class?"
She gave a small, rigid nod, refusing to make direct eye contact.
"Guess I’ll tag along," I said, stepping into stride beside her.
Her expression went completely blank for a second, startled by the casual offer, before she nodded again— like a small, automated doll following a command.
We set off down the grand corridor toward the cathedral-like archway of the A-Class wing.
I tried making casual conversation to kill the awkward silence, asking about the morning schedule or the upcoming months in future practical exams, but her responses were agonizingly brief.
It was either a quiet "Wow," a quick nod, or a hushed "Yes."
She is genuinely terrible at human interaction, I thought, fighting the urge to sigh.
Actually. At one point I asked a question that didn’t even have a yes-or-no answer, and she still said yes... ಠᴥಠ
However, as we neared the massive, reinforced double doors of our classroom, Lyra finally managed to string together a full sentence.
She explained in a low, cautious whisper that Professor Myra had filed an official incident report about yesterday’s duel.
Hana’s high-tier spell had breached safety parameters, nearly killing both of us, and the administrative board was currently investigating why the duel arena’s automated barrier system hadn’t forcibly canceled the match the moment Hana started chanting an C-Rank spell.
"Honestly, it’s the academy’s own fault," I grumbled under my breath as we stopped in front of the classroom entrance. "Setting up a system that grants full combat clearance just because both participants agree to throw hands at eachother."
Lyra paused beside me.
Reaching up with both hands, she carefully slid her thick, round glasses off her face and pulled out a small microfiber cloth from her cardigan pocket to wipe the lenses.
Without her oversized glasses obscuring her features, her bare face was suddenly completely visible.
She had a soft, delicate oval face with a slightly pointed chin, framed by her messy purple locks.
Her eyes were unexpectedly large and expressive, featuring deep black pupils angled downwards at the corners that gave her a naturally thoughtful, slightly melancholic look.
Her eyebrows were neat but slightly uneven, like she frowned more often than she smiled and it had started leaving a mark.
I blinked, taking in the sudden shift.
Without thinking, my body moved on pure instinct. I reached out, placed my fingers gently under her chin, and tilted her head upward, forcing her to look directly at me.
Lyra let out a tiny, startled gasp.
Her dark eyes widened in shock, and she reflexively bit down on her soft, glossy bottom lip, her chest heaving as her breath hitched.
That was when I noticed it— a tiny, elegant beauty mark tucked right beneath the outer corner of her left eye. A subtle dark mole that made her pale skin look almost striking.
"A-Ah... Sir Rex?" her voice trembled, squeaking softly as her face flushed a burning shade of crimson. "D-Don’t you think you should unhand me... and... and let us go inside the classroom?!"
I didn’t hear a single word she said.
She’s terrible at conversation... I thought to myself, staring down at her flushed, wide-eyed expression. ...but wow, she is ridiculously beautiful.
Unfortunately, my brain failed to filter my internal monologue, and the words slipped out of my mouth in a deadpan, perfectly audible whisper: "You’re actually really pretty."
Before Lyra’s brain could process what I just said or detonate into a full-blown panic attack—
BANG!