I returned to the dorm, picked up my new room key from the master, and hauled my belongings upstairs.
The moment I opened the door, I froze.
The room was easily twice the size of my old one. The bed stretched wide and inviting—a luxurious 6-by-6 instead of the cramped cot I'd grown used to. A proper desk stood against the wall, polished and sturdy, with shelves ready for books. Even more surprising was the private bathroom—complete with a bathtub. There was a refrigerator tucked neatly in the corner, and to top it off, a microwave. It felt less like a student dorm and more like a small apartment.
"Not bad," I muttered to myself, dropping my bag on the bed. "Guess ranking had its perks after all."
I checked my terminal, half-expecting a message from Douglas or Miles. Nothing. Instead, a school-wide notice blinked across the screen: point allowances would be distributed tomorrow.
Makes sense. The rankings were already set, which meant the days of free meals were done. Determined to enjoy one last complimentary feast, I headed to the dining hall.
The air was warm with the scent of roasted meats and bread. I loaded my plate with reckless abandon—thick slices of beef, cheese, fresh bread, and even a helping of vegetables to keep it respectable. As I searched for a seat, my gaze caught Nicholas across the hall.
Time to collect.
I approached, and he frowned as I sat across from him. "You finished the written exam in an hour. How?"
I grinned. "I've been studying since the start of the month."
"So have I," he said, almost defensively. His score—98, among the top ten—backed that up. The bet had been bold, but not baseless.
"I've got a decent memory," I admitted. "Things just… stick."
Nicholas studied me for a moment, then grunted. "Fine. Lunch tomorrow. My treat."
"Looking forward to it."
We walked back to the dorms together. To my surprise, his room was only two doors to my left. He had ranked eighteenth overall, with a score of 89. Impressive, considering the competition.
That night, I collapsed into my new bed and slept soundly.
Thursday
The next morning, my terminal pinged: 4,500 points credited.
I wasted no time. Leaving the academic sector, I crossed into the residential district where instructors lived. Tucked among their homes was a small student market.
The shelves offered everything from necessities to rare treasures. I picked up frozen meals, snacks, and soft drinks—comforts that meant I could eat in my room without trekking to the dining hall. It cost 500 points, plus 8 for delivery to my dorm. Worth every bit.
But what really caught my attention were the specialty items:
Quality dagger – 15,000 points
→ With my own materials: 5,000 points (for forging)
Soulbound storage imprints – 20,000 points
Dimensional ring (small) – 5,000 points
Standard bow – 12,000 points
Custom bows – Unlisted price, request-based
I lingered longer than I should have, already calculating what I could realistically aim for.
Later that day, Nicholas met me in the dining hall, honoring our bet. After lunch, he asked, "Spar?"
"Why not?"
We rented a practice room in the gym. He selected a longsword, while I went for a dagger.
When the timer on his watch hit zero, Nicholas moved like lightning. His sword whistled down, and I caught the strike with the flat of my dagger, sliding it off as I retreated. I snapped a feint toward his chest, but he read it, sidestepping smoothly and throwing an elbow at my neck.
I didn't see the blow—I felt it. Instinct tugged me into a roll just in time.
When he came at me again, blade raised, I mirrored his earlier step, sliding past his strike and grabbing his arm. Silent Current coiled at the edge of my thoughts, but Nicholas knew me too well. He shoved his weight forward, trying to break my rhythm.
I'd anticipated that.
I shifted aside, leaving him stumbling off-balance, and struck.
Vein Piercer
A mana-guided strike targeting arteries or mana nodes to disrupt flow.
Effect: Applies Bleed or reduces Mana Regeneration.
Even dulled, the blade nicked his arm, drawing blood.
Nicholas hissed, then smiled. "You've gotten sharper."
We fought several more rounds. He won the next two, pressing me hard, but in the fourth I activated Perception. The world slowed, every motion clearer, sharper. It drained me quickly, but it gave me the edge I needed.
His passive skill, Wound Recovery, erased the small injury within minutes. A dangerous ability—especially in drawn-out fights.
Afterward, we grabbed dinner together, laughing over small mistakes we'd made in the spar. For once, there was no tension, no rivalry—just two competitors respecting each other's strength.
Friday
The library smelled faintly of old parchment when I arrived around nine. I spent the morning sorting returned books. Strangely, Lina wasn't there today. The faint trace of sandalwood lingered in the air, but the incense was gone.
With time to spare, I browsed. Most of the intermediate magic texts warned against practicing beyond Level 1, but my mana reserves tempted me otherwise. Still, I hadn't even mastered the basics, so I let it be.
By afternoon, I was back in my room, microwaving one of my new meals. Sleep came easily after that.
Saturday
Light training in the gym. I rented a room and programmed a mana doll to switch weapons at intervals—sword, spear, axe. I worked through dagger counters, footwork drills, but one fact became painfully clear:
I needed a movement technique. A real one.
Sunday
Back at the library. This time, Lina was there, seated as if she had been waiting all along. The sandalwood scent was stronger today—soothing, grounding—but still no incense in sight.
"Good morning," I said.
She glanced up through her bangs and nodded softly. We sorted books together, then lingered to read.
Frustration must have shown on my face, because she finally asked, "What are you looking for?"
"Movement techniques," I admitted. "I'm a close-range fighter. If I can't close the distance…"
She thought it over, then reached into her stack. "Try Veiled Stride. It's difficult—meant for second-years—but I think it suits you."
She borrowed the book under her name and slid it across the table. "Just make sure you return it when you're done."
I accepted it carefully. "Thank you."
On the way back, I helped her carry her mountain of borrowed books. As always, I wondered how she could see through those bangs.
That night, with Veiled Stride manual beside me, I lay in bed ready for Monday. For once, the unknown ahead felt more like opportunity than danger.