Before unlocking the computer lab’s reinforced door, Allisson pulled open his backpack and retrieved two 16-ounce bottles of rationed water and two packs of cream-filled cookies—supplies secured during their strategic sweep of the Faculty Lounge.
"Drink and eat," Allisson instructed in a calm tone. "Your brain's glucose consumption rate during [Synaptic Acceleration] demands full energy reserves. We can't afford to have you suffering a hypoglycemic crash in the middle of a hallway."
Paulo nodded, consuming his portion in silence while Allisson adjusted the straps of his backpack and tested the snug fit of the [Rigid Chitin Armguards] on his forearms.
While the boy ate, Allisson's mind dissected the carnage he had witnessed through the high transom window.
The anatomy of the Mana Mantis is a study in lethal optimization, Allisson reflected.
In a baseline ecosystem, a common mantis already boasted impressive hunting metrics. Its raptorial legs could strike at speeds exceeding thirty milliseconds, allowing it to capture small reptiles, amphibians, and even birds.
When Mana entered the equation, the insect's biological architecture didn't undergo a chaotic distortion. Instead, its existing traits were raised to an exponential degree. The air chambers beneath its wings acted like high-pressure turbines for low-altitude glides, while its reinforced chitinous exoskeleton absorbed energy impacts.
It used the central lawn's carnage as a concentrated feeding ground, Allisson deduced. By devouring both mutated beasts and humans, it accumulated XP at a terrifying rate, reaching Level 6 or higher in under twenty-four hours.
Allisson looked down at his open palm. At Level 4, with 12.5 Strength and the five-foot reach of his spear, he could neutralize isolated Level 2 or 3 threats. However, against a Level 6 ambush predator possessing multiple attack vectors, solo combat offered an unacceptable margin of error.
"Solo action is insufficient," Allisson whispered to himself.
"What do you mean, Mr. Allisson?" Paulo asked, stowing his empty water bottle back in his pack.
"A solo combatant possesses only one primary attack line and one defensive zone," Allisson explained, dropping to one knee to meet the boy's gaze. "If a monster attacks my left flank while I'm lunging forward, my probability of successfully blocking drops below thirty percent. Survival at this stage of the apocalypse requires transitioning from a solo operation model to a squad unit."
"A squad? Like in a game?"
"A squad with clear role distribution," Allisson corrected. "And the immediate priority for building this unit is raising your Level."
Allisson brought up the student's status sheet in his mind, reviewing the raw metrics:
Level: 1 (0 / 10 XP)
Constitution: 5
Strength: 6
"Your [Synaptic Acceleration] dilates your temporal perception by 300%, making it an invaluable support asset. However, your low Constitution limits its activation to one-second micro-bursts due to neural thermal stress. If we raise you to Level 3 or 5, your base attributes will jump. With higher Constitution and Strength, your body can sustain the acceleration longer and absorb secondary kinetic stress without collapsing."
"How do I level up if I can't fight those monsters?" Paulo asked, his eyes wide with anxiety.
"By dealing the final blow." Allisson tapped the end of his spear shaft lightly against the floor. "I will handle the initial engagement, strip the target's limbs, and reduce its mobility to zero. You will deliver the kill stroke. The System awards the primary share of XP to whoever lands the fatal hit."
Paulo swallowed hard, but the teacher's unyielding logic brought him a steady, quiet resolve. He nodded.
Satisified with their calorie intake, Allisson and Paulo exited the computer lab. The steel door, solid wood bar, and outer iron gate were relocked from the outside, preserving the room as a secure fallback point.
The pair began a systematic sweep of the first-floor classroom block.
The mission objective was two-fold:
Locate isolated, low-level monsters (Level 1 or 2) trapped in classrooms to funnel XP to Paulo.
Check for barricaded survivors who could be integrated into their tactical unit.
Allisson held his Twin-Blade Spear at chest height, using his chitin armguards to cover his vitals. At every closed door, he leveraged his 17.5 Perception to listen for internal movements while running [Structural Analysis] through the gaps in the wood to map Mana fluctuations.
At the third classroom down the hall—Class 8-A—the metal door handle was jammed from the inside by a tilted desk.
Allisson pressed his ear to the wood. Beyond the faint sound of ragged human breathing, his Perception caught a sharp scraping noise against the floor tiles toward the back of the room.
An isolated target and a human presence, Allisson calculated.
He raised two fingers to Paulo, signaling that their field exercise was about to begin.