’Ah yes, it’s finally my turn. I wonder how much CP I’ll farm once the crowd sees me in action. I bet at least three girls faint before I even lift my blade.’
(Sigh... I don’t even want to say anything anymore. I quit.)
’Hey, now don’t be like that. I’m just stating facts.’
As I grinned shamelessly, the announcer’s voice rang out across the coliseum, echoing with magical amplification.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, for the final duel of the day—we present one of the crowd favorites! The man, the myth, the musician... Ravin, against none other than Vice Principal Gravis himself!"
The crowd erupted like a dam had broken. Roses, handkerchiefs, glittering notes of affection—and wait, was that a pair of silk undergarments?—all flew toward the platform.
I casually removed my coat and tossed it aside. Beneath it, I wore a white t-shirt and black trousers which are easy to fight in. Now, I know it sounds weird, but I look good in basically anything, so that’s not a problem.
’Pixia, did you see that?’
(Yes, Host. I just saw a girl faint while blowing a kiss. Your fan club is now officially a cult.)
’So flattering. I might become even more of a narcissist.’
Vice Principal Gravis stood ahead of me, looking every bit the composed powerhouse—his mana sword pulsing gently, like a coiled beast in disguise. His face bore the relaxed confidence of someone who could dismantle kingdoms and still be home in time for tea.
He nodded. "Let’s make this entertaining."
I stepped onto the platform with all the calm arrogance of someone completely aware of how dazzling he was.
But just as we bowed, a strange chill slithered into the air. Green mist began curling around the edges of the platform, thick and fragrant like crushed herbs and blood-soaked roses.
The light dimmed slightly. The crowd’s cheering faltered.
Then... she stepped through the mist.
Elegant. Deadly. Beautiful in a way that felt both sacred and blasphemous.
"Vice Principal Gravis," came the calm, silken voice, laced with venom and allure. "This duel is mine."
Lady Nivera Verlain.
Warlord-rank Star Mage. Sister of the current vampire king. One of the academy’s strongest instructors—and more importantly, one of the heroines from the original game and a woman known for being an extreme battle maniac.
Her poison-green eyes glowed in the mist. Dark green hair flowed like a waterfall of silk, and her black combat dress shimmered with enchantments. A sword rested lazily in one hand—dark steel with a glowing green edge.
Gravis blinked. "Are you sure? He’s just a—"
"You said that about the last candidate. He nearly cracked your barrier."
A pause. Then Gravis chuckled. "Fair enough. Try not to break him too fast."
He bowed out and looked at me with a grin. "Looks like I’m being benched. Good luck."
’...Luck? Oh yeah. I’m going to need it.’
(You just got upgraded from final boss to secret hidden raid boss. Congratulations, Host.)
The announcer’s voice cracked. "U-Uh... Change of plans! Vice Principal Gravis has ceded the duel to Lady Nivera!"
’Well. This just got interesting.’
Lady Nivera stepped into the dueling circle with all the poise of a predator who enjoyed watching her prey squirm before the bite.
"So," she said, eyes glittering with mischief, "you’re the infamous heartbreaker everyone’s whispering about."
’Pixia... she’s hot.’
(She’s also probably going to slice you into confetti. Just saying. And why do you only like crazy chicks?)
’Doesn’t mean I can’t flirt first. And as for your question—even I don’t know the answer.’
I gave her my best grin. "Guilty. Though I prefer ’dangerously charming.’ It rolls off the tongue better."
She laughed. It was a low, indulgent sound—like velvet and blades. "You’re bold. Most students can’t even meet my gaze."
I took a slow step forward, maintaining eye contact. "It’s hard not to look at something so stunning."
(Host. You’re flirting with a Warlord-ranked vampire. Why are you like this.)
’Because I can be.’
Lady Nivera smirked. "I wonder if you flirt better than you fight."
"I suppose you’ll find out," I said, bowing slightly. "Shall we dance, Lady Nivera?"
She raised her blade, expression gleaming. "Let’s see if you can keep up."
The crowd went silent. Then—
(CP +50,000 from the crowd. Affection +5. Nivera: 5/100. CP +5,000)
[System Notification: Lady Nivera Verlain — Warlord/Arcanist Rank Star Mage
Affinities: Poison + Blood + Dark Flame
Specialties: High-Speed Regeneration, Forbidden Hex Arts
Danger Level: CRITICAL]
’Wait—Pixia, when did we get boss health bar breakdowns?’
(Host, as you level up, I regain more of my system functions. You’ll thank me later.)
’Oh, I already do.’
[Third-Person POV — Floating Balcony]
Synthia’s eyes narrowed slightly, her arms crossed.
Zephyra, reclining in her obsidian throne, grinned lazily.
"She chose to fight him herself," Zephyra mused. "That’s rare."
Synthia nodded. "She finds strong prey... appetizing."
"And you?" Zephyra’s turquoise gaze sparkled. "You worried?"
Synthia sipped her wine without blinking. "Not at all."
Zephyra leaned forward slightly, her voice amused. "He’s flirting with her mid-duel."
"Of course he is."
"Do you think she’ll kill him?"
"She’ll try."
[Ravin’s POV]
We both stepped into the dueling circle. The arena barrier flared to life—golden walls of compressed mana.
She moved first—so fast, I only caught a shimmer.
I barely dodged, sliding sideways and countering with a clean strike on her waist. She twisted midair, landed like a whisper, and slashed.
Her blade was fast. Controlled. Elegant. Poison and dark flame fused into each strike.
’Pixia, give me enhanced reaction speed.’
(Battle Instinct active. +30% reflexes. Cooldown: 30 seconds.)
I parried, my katana sparking against hers. Our blades clashed again and again, creating arcs of elemental chaos.
’Void Step!’
I reappeared behind her, slashing with my wind-laced blade. She parried, spinning into a kick that sent me skidding back.
"Fast," she said, licking a cut on her lip.
She vanished again, this time striking low. I blocked with an earth shield. But her blade bit through it like butter.
’Battle Instinct!’
I ducked her follow-up slash, grabbed her wrist, and flung her away.
(Nice! You touched her. Mentally and physically.)
She landed gracefully and smiled.
"You’re holding back. How boring."
She snapped her fingers.
Poisonous mist erupted around her. Her eyes bled red.
Her blade glowed with blood flame and poison.
(Okay, she’s serious now. Host, stop flirting.)
’Time to flirt with violence.’
We clashed. Blades sparked. I layered fire and shadow into my slashes. She countered with hexed flames and brutal parries.
I summoned a storm spear and hurled it—she redirected it with a flick of her wrist.
Her blade danced.
My instincts screamed. I dropped to the ground just as her sword passed above me, grazing my scalp.
She smirked. "Cute dodge."
’Pixia, I need more mana.’
(Pull from the surroundings. Remember your body is a natural core.)
I did.
Mana rushed into me—pure, clean. My entire body thrummed with power.
Flames spiraled around my legs. Wind coiled at my arms. My blade exploded in cosmic frost, a whirl of compressed air, lightning, and void spiraling from its edge.
It landed—a cut bloomed across her shoulder.
She froze.
Nivera’s eyes narrowed. "You made me bleed."
She shrieked—not in pain, in delight.
"Finally! I can have some fun."
She appeared in front of me again. Her blade burned with cursed flame.
Our weapons collided.
Once.
Twice.
Ten times.
I was pushed back, each blow heavier than the last.
(Host, she’s enjoying this too much.)
’Yeah... I kinda am too.’
We clashed again. My body glowed faintly, absorbing ambient mana. I dashed with void-augmented movement and appeared above her, slamming down with an elemental arc.
She blocked, barely, but a crack appeared in the arena floor. Some of my blood dropped onto her lips. She licked it, then laughed. "You are delicious."
’...Should I be concerned or flattered?’
(Both.)
We kept going. At some point, I stopped thinking.
We were no longer just fighting.
We were dancing.
We both stood opposite each other, breathing hard. Well, I was just pretending—though my muscles did ache.
She grinned. "You lasted longer than I thought."
I smiled back. "I tend to leave a strong impression."
Nivera’s eyes sparkled with thrill. "You’re enjoying this too, aren’t you?"
I smirked. "Yeah. I think I am."
The next minute was pure chaos.
We launched forward.
Our mana flared. Her blade became a serpent of bloodfire—mine became a starborn arc of radiant silver.
Our final blows collided—light and shadow, poison and blood.
The platform cracked.
The barrier nearly buckled.
When the smoke cleared—we stood inches apart.
Her blade at my throat and my blade at her chest.
We both froze.
Then she stepped back and sheathed her sword.
"I yield."
[Floating Balcony – Zephyra & Synthia POV]
Zephyra’s wine glass cracked from the pressure of her grip.
"...He made her yield."
Synthia’s lips curled.
"He’s growing fast," she said softly. "Too fast."
Zephyra looked down with glowing eyes. "I want to fight him."
"Get in line."
Zephyra laughed. "You’re that serious about him?"
Synthia said nothing, but her smile said everything.
[Back to Ravin’s POV]
The crowd erupted.
"RAVIN!"
"HE HELD HIS OWN AGAINST A WARLORD!"
"HE’S TOO HOT TO LOSE!"
(Crowd CP +100,000. Affection +10. Nivera: 15/100)
She leaned in as she walked past, whispering against my ear.
"Don’t die before our rematch, Ravin."
I smirked, adjusting my coat.
"Wouldn’t dream of it."