Chapter 11. Enrollment (1)

A week had passed since then. I was staying in the guest house that Professor Biern had guided me to. The items provided by Arsen—including my watch and spare cadet uniform—were neatly stacked in one corner of my room. They'd be moved to my assigned dormitory once the entrance exam was over and housing was allocated.

And I wasn't the only one staying in this guest house.

"Did you sleep well last night, Sion Illeionhart?"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Yes. And you, Lady Rebecca?"

"...Of course."

Rebecca, the student council president. She had rented out an entire floor of guest rooms here as well. According to Exion, the dormitories were under construction, leaving her no choice but to stay here. The reason was obvious: there were too many prospective cadets enrolling this time. They couldn't house everyone without expanding the dorms.

"Is there nothing more to say?"

"No. That's all."

"Then I'll take my leave. I expect great results from you in the exam, Sion Illeionhart."

"Yes, President Rebecca."

Whenever I ran into Rebecca, this strange tension hung in the air. It wasn't coming from me—it was the atmosphere she created. I returned to my room and closed the door.

The enrollment procedures were handled in a flash. There wasn't much for me to do. That was thanks to the pull Esperand had exerted beforehand. My written and practical scores had been set to a middling average. It didn't matter much anyway; class assignments were based on entrance exam performance, so it wasn't an issue.

First, I checked the main quest.

The core goal was to pass the entrance exam. Honestly, passing wasn't hard. Unless you were in the absolute bottom tier of trash, everyone made it through. As long as you didn't troll on purpose or get caught cheating and expelled, you'd pass without issue.

The sub-objectives were just bonuses to aim for if possible, and none seemed too tough. The entrance exam venue had plenty of hidden pieces too. Hardcore players had farmed them across multiple runs, and I'd done the same.

...Though in the original story, I'd have handed them all over to the protagonists without a second thought.

First, I have to survive.

Thinking about the villains I'd face ahead, I needed to get stronger starting now. You can't do anything if you're dead. So I'd claim my share without getting in the protagonists' way. The scraps they left behind should be fair game. Whether the protagonist would snag the hidden pieces like the original player was anyone's guess—I'd check in person.

No real worries, though. Even called an "entrance exam," it paled compared to Esperand's brutal curriculum.

...How do I know? I wish I didn't.

A coliseum shaped like a crown. Georged Hall.

"We sincerely welcome all prospective cadets visiting Arsen."

A female cadet gripping the mic on the platform spoke. The insignia on her arm marked her as student council staff—which meant the "student council president" was here too.

"Isn't that the student council?"

"I heard only nobles can join."

"Whoa."

Gasps erupted here and there. And it went without saying where most eyes were drawn. Rebecca, seated at the center of the student council, exuded overwhelming presence. She had that kind of allure—people stopped in their tracks just to stare. Flanking the council were Arsen's professors and staff, lined up neatly. It showed just how much sway the student council held here.

At Arsen, even professors treaded carefully around the council. They could push through anything deemed unreasonable by normal standards. And they got plenty of perks too. That's why second-years busted their asses to become president.

The current head was Rebecca von Anastasia Grander. From the platform, she was imprinting the council's existence on every prospective cadet. Yet her gaze lingered on me with an inscrutable subtlety. Half-lidded eyes.

"Those of you who passed the written and practical exams will take your entrance exam here in Georged Hall today."

The female cadet with the mic explained diligently, but the prospects weren't listening. Eyes—including mine—locked on the platform. A portal wreathed in black sparks. An artificial gate had been set up to one side. It would send us to a place that existed within Arsen yet didn't—a place that wasn't there. The entrance exam venue.

Beeeep! A sudden mic screech wrinkled brows across the hall, including the cadet's. She fumbled with it, but of course, nothing was wrong with the mic.

"What the hell?"

"What's going on?"

The platform cadet's panic spread to the prospects. Amid the growing chaos, another screech echoed from the ceiling. She finally set the mic down, grasping the situation. A woman's voice boomed from above.

The mic line had already cut out. The noise came from the external broadcast room, not the platform mic. In the confusion, I felt eyes on me. Not Rebecca's—she sat demurely with eyes closed.

"A pistol...?"

Several male cadets stared at me. The burly leader-type smirked, lips twisting.

"Something felt off. Looks like we've got a weirdo here too."

He approached, clearly picking a fight.

"Arsen isn't a joke."

"What's his deal?"

"Look at that. How'd he pass practicals with a pistol like that?"

...What the hell was their problem? I was just dumbfounded. But I had a guess. The group glared at my Glock like they wanted to devour it.

"Passed practicals with that? No way. You didn't take the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠exam properly, did you?"

"Must've cheated his way in."

Their words had no basis—just wild leaps. But they were right. I'd cheated my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠way in, colluding with a professor for a free pass. They had no idea, of course.

"Hey, ignoring us?"

A gorilla like that would've stood out among extras. But I had no memory of him from the game. Meaning he'd cheated or flunked out of Arsen already.

I didn't bother replying. No point. The exam would resume soon, and this would be the last I'd see of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠them.

But as the gorilla leader reached for me—

Predictable uproar. Assistants wove through the murmuring crowd.

"What? What's changing?"

"Sudden changes now?"

The noise died down. Even the guy approaching me clicked his tongue and backed off. Not bold enough to mouth off to an assistant, apparently.

The explanation was long but simple. Every prospect entering the exam hall would wear a bracelet. It absorbed impacts in the wearer's place, but durability was limited. Too much damage or too many hits, and it shattered. Bracelet destroyed or removed? Instant disqualification and reverse summon to Georged Hall. No more points after that. Fail the minimum threshold, and you might even get sent packing from Arsen.

Beeeep! The line cut.

"Wait up. See you in the exam."

I had no intention of crossing paths, but somehow an unwanted appointment was set. The gorilla—first named—led his crew forward. Once inside the gate, brutal infighting would erupt. This exam was nothing like the prior ones.

"A-839. Sion Illeionhart."

A bracelet clicked onto my wrist. Through Watcher's Eye, it was an over-tech artifact of exquisite precision.

At the gate. Cadets filed in by name.

Battle royale. Common rules: last survivor takes first. Not survival of the fittest, but the survivor is the fittest.

That gorilla would learn soon enough once inside.

...In this entrance exam.

It wasn't the strong who survived.

The survivors were the strong.