Chapter 10
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: Ceremony's End and Provocation
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But even calling her the mid-boss of Chapter 1, it wasn't something happening right in front of him just yet.
Sure, in the game, one click could skip days, but this was reality now.
‘I’ve already got a rough plan in place.’
It wasn’t a topic that required urgent deliberation.
Hena wasn’t a spy or a monster or anything like that, so the best course was to proceed steadily according to plan.
Abel slowly turned his head, scanning the others.
‘Looking at them like this, they really are all top-tier.’
The upper class wasn’t just a name—it truly gathered only the elite of the elite.
Divided merely into the better ones and the lesser among them.
Considering Abel’s goal was ‘overwhelming first place among the 40,’ he’d have to sweat blood for it.
Even taking first in the entrance exam, complacency would see him shoved aside in no time.
“Alright! This has dragged on a bit, so I’ll wrap up with just one final word!”
As Abel finished looking around, the prince emphasized ‘final’ with force.
No one believed him—it was already the fifth ‘final’ he’d declared.
But this time, it wasn’t a lie. After droning on with a few more tedious remarks, he smiled and said,
“Then. May you all become fine swords of the Empire. That’s all.”
No one showed it outwardly, but inwardly, cheers erupted.
With that, the prince stepped back, and Magnus came forward, placing a hand on the magic tool.
“Now we’ll proceed briskly. Announcing the top scorer and runner-up of the entrance exam.”
Having endured the prince’s over-two-hour snoozer of a speech, Magnus’s crisp efficiency stood out even more.
Even the VIPs attending the ceremony brightened up.
Instead of dragging things out, Magnus looked straight ahead at the cadet ranks—directly at Abel—and declared,
“Top scorer: Abel Klein. Approach the podium.”
Having been briefed on the procedure, Abel promptly ascended via the stairs to his left.
Standing before Magnus, he received a toothy grin before the man spoke again.
“Abel Klein. As the standout among all examinees in this test, I bestow upon you this certificate. In addition to full scholarship coverage, Gigants will be provided periodically per the curriculum. Keep striving forward.”
Magnus handed over the paper, then clapped Abel’s shoulder with a pot-lid-sized hand.
Abel paid respects first to the prince behind him, then to Magnus right in front, before turning to descend.
“Abel Klein.”
Then, the prince from the back called out.
“I’ve heard a lot about you. I expect great things.”
Abel froze for a split second.
‘Heard a lot about me?’
Circumstantially, it was probably just polite flattery, but as their eyes met briefly, Abel felt something off.
It didn’t seem like mere words.
Still, he quickly masked his surprise and replied courteously.
“Thank you.”
His speech had painted him as verbose and somewhat sloppy, but that brief eye contact carried a chilling edge.
‘...As expected. Now that I know, it’s obvious.’
If he knew nothing, he might’ve wavered, but Abel—aware the prince was no ordinary man—could see it.
The other face hidden beneath that affable one.
But as soon as Abel gave thanks, the prince grinned as if that sharp gaze had never been, turning to Magnus.
“Resume.”
“Understood.”
Magnus signaled him down, and only then could Abel move.
As Abel descended the stairs, Magnus continued.
“Next, runner-up! Runner-up Iolin Sepir. Approach the podium.”
At his words, Iolin stepped forward and ascended the stairs.
As Abel returned to his spot, their eyes met.
Iolin gazed at him with an expression similar to the one after the exam last time, then brushed past.
‘Mad I took first?’
Abel pondered on his way back.
It wasn’t a casual glance then either, but pinpointing her exact thoughts was tough.
He lacked the ability to read minds perfectly, after all.
On top of that, the prince’s words nagged at him, complicating his thoughts.
“...Keep striving forward!”
In the midst of his distraction, the runner-up certificate was awarded, and Magnus signaled the ceremony’s end.
“Alright. That concludes the entrance ceremony.”
It should’ve run much longer per the original schedule, but the prince’s marathon speech had led to heavy cuts.
Thus ended the unexpectedly protracted entrance ceremony.
* * *
After everyone who was leaving had gone.
The building quickly buzzed with noise.
“Follow me!”
“This way, please!”
Escort instructors gathered the cadets.
The middle class’s 160 proved chaotic, but the upper class—totaling just 40—sorted out fast.
“Then, let’s move.”
Leading the upper class was a female instructor with pale skin and glossy black hair pinned up.
She was one of the dorm supervisors for the upper class dorms.
Contrary to her appearance, she was a body technique master.
Abel and the 39 other cadets followed her.
Exiting the auditorium toward the dorms, no one chattered—perhaps minding the early hour—reaching the dorm building without fuss.
‘Everything here’s on a massive scale.’
The upper class dorms numbered four buildings total, spaced apart.
Each year used one, so a building for just 40 students was still enormous.
Unlike the exam hall’s grandeur, it gave a cozy vibe overall.
‘Well, imposing vibes in a dorm would be weird.’
Passing the large doors after her revealed a spacious main hall.
First to catch the eye: an elegant chandelier boasting refined beauty.
Lowering one’s gaze showed stairs on both sides, with pricey carpet screaming luxury on the floor.
The instructor gave them a moment to gawk before speaking.
“Announcements or small events happen here in the main hall. Now, follow me.”
Her brief explanation led left from the hall, soon revealing a large dining area.
She pointed inside.
“Breakfast, lunch, dinner—all here. Times: breakfast 7 to 8:30 a.m., lunch 11:30 a.m. to 2 p.m., dinner 5 to 8 p.m. Outside those...”
After the dining hall rundown, they moved on.
She toured the facilities like this, explaining succinctly.
Dining hall. Training room. Infirmary. Supervisor office. Etc.
After the friendly dorm tour, they returned to the main hall.
“Your luggage has been moved to your rooms ahead of time, so unpack first, then gather back here in the main hall by 3:30 p.m. Room assignments are on the paper by the stairs.”
“Yes.”
“Got it.”
Nodding at their replies, she headed to the supervisor office.
Her departure—the very inhibitor—turned the main hall rowdy in seconds.
Hours from enrollment, no real friendships yet—just pre-existing acquaintances chatting.
Irrelevant to Abel, he wove through the clusters toward the stairs.
But just as he reached them, a hand clamped his shoulder.
“Got a minute?”
Turning, he saw a cocky-faced boy.
Luke. Second son of the Paltain Marquis Family, the fool who’d challenged Abel cluelessly at the exam and gotten his head cracked.
“What’s this about?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
The guy grinned.
Abel had no intent to indulge Luke’s bratty provocation on day one. Not until the message popped up.
“Sure. Let’s talk. Lead on.”
Abel’s scowl flipped to a smile, briefly flustering Luke.
But he soon smirked smugly and took the lead.
Behind him appeared an unusually burly boy and a weaselly one, flanking Abel.
Luke’s new lackeys, apparently.
Abel ignored them, beaming.
[Sudden Quest ‘Proper Discipline’ Activated!]
[Give the arrogant, immature Luke Paltain a proper lesson!]
[Succeed for 5 Lesser Mana Amplifiers!]
A quest right up his alley. Abel followed gladly.
They arrived at the dorm’s training ground.
Precisely, a private training space within it. Abel inwardly admired Luke’s spot choice.
‘Do these types have an instinct for hidden corners?’
Finding the perfect nook so quick showed sharp eyes.
Wasted on this, though—pathetic, really.
Abel eyed the silent, posturing group.
“So, what’s the talk? ‘Let’s get along’? Something like that?”
Luke’s face twisted further.
“Are you clueless, or pretending?”
“Obviously the latter. Gotta spell it out? Huh?”
“W-what?”
“Why stutter? Head still hurt from last time?”
Abel’s barrage reddened Luke’s face beet-red. The two behind him, bodyguard-like, scowled too.
A nasty atmosphere brewed.
‘Cute.’
But Abel felt nothing. In a boy’s body, yes, but he was a grown man who’d served in the military.
Fifteen- or sixteen-year-olds barely weaned, trying to intimidate? Adorable.
Abel figured they’d charge in rage.
Surprisingly, Luke trembled but spoke instead of lunging.
“Think joining the Klein family makes you a wolf pup? You gutter trash. They must lack eyes too.”
Harsh venom.
As his words ended, Abel deactivated the inhibitor from his pocket.
“Then you got thrashed by gutter trash and rolled on the floor, huh?”
“I...”
“Scared shitless, just flapping gums? Right?”
“You bastard!”
Luke’s patience snapped.
He charged, fist clenched. Not half-bad—solid form.
Whoosh!
Abel dodged effortlessly. Not once. Twice, thrice—he evaded casually.
“Doing it on purpose so I dodge? Huh?”
Punctuated by taunts.
Gritting teeth, fists flying, Luke’s face flushed deeper.
Then, suddenly.
Whumm-!
Blue mana haze rose from his body.
Drawing mana—likely a family secret, given his background.
Mana-infused bare fists could shatter bones or rupture organs on hit.
That explained the lackeys’ alarm.
Abel, planning a few slaps then done, went cold-eyed.
“You’re crossing the line.”
Hyping Luke missed the warning. Abel didn’t repeat it.
Luke’s fist flew twice as fast.
Whoooosh-!
Abel murmured inwardly.
‘Shadow Step.’
In an instant, his form blurred—then vanished.