<Updated Prize List>
– Mystery Book
– Random Rank-Up ×3
– Rank Boost
– Cold Alarm Clock
……
Normally, I would’ve grabbed the rank-related items without hesitation, but something far more important stands out right now.
Mystery Book.
It’s like a book-version loot box. The type is determined the moment you open the first page.
Generally, bundles of magic scrolls are preferred over skill books.
There’s even an extremely rare chance of obtaining the [Book of Chaos] owned by the Magic Tower Association.
That’s my goal too. A bundle of magic scrolls.
Of course, the more everyone wants something, the harder it is to get.
“But this one has a hidden trick.”
If you add a single magic scroll alongside it, the chances of getting a related item increase slightly.
Conveniently, I currently have one [Handicap Scroll].
“If I copy this into the Mystery Book…”
Then I can freely use it for side quests, and that would give a serious boost to my growth.
Even if the copy fails, I believe Lucky Charm will still bring me a decent outcome.
So, I abandoned consistency and flipped my attitude like turning a switch.
“I have to go to the arcade next week.”
“I want to go too.”
Seo Ye-in’s eyes sparkled.
“I’ll only take you if your penalty’s gone. Otherwise, it’s too dangerous.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Well, I won’t be.”
Now that the Mystery Book is on the line, the risk suddenly feels worth taking.
Still, if I can avoid danger, I should.
“How about I go hang out with the noonas, and we go the week after?”
“No.”
“Is there really no room for negotiation?”
“Noo.”
“Haah. Like I’d leave you behind anyway.”
“Passed the butler exam.”
Seo Ye-in looked just a little pleased.
It wouldn’t make sense to say all that and then secretly go without her or leave her behind.
No matter how things play out, Lucky is the one who’ll end up using the Mystery Book, so it’s only right that I show some sincerity too.
“Alright, then let’s go together. Do you feel like your luck is coming back?”
“……?”
I asked just in case it was the kind that gradually recovers, but Seo Ye-in only tilted her head in confusion.
This sort of thing is easy to test, so I pointed at the floor.
“Try setting a trap.”
“Okay.”
She squatted down and began to set up a Fickle Trap.
Once it was ready, I lightly stepped on it.
Pyoong!
With a cute sound effect, a flower popped up.
“…Still a long way to go.”
“……A shame.”
“Let’s keep monitoring it. We’ve got a whole week.”
The best-case scenario is the penalty being completely lifted by next weekend.
The second-best? At least a partial recovery.
If all else fails, I’ll just have to force it.
At that point, it wouldn’t be a fun outing. It would be more like escorting a sloth on a dangerous trip.
But we’ll see how things unfold over the next week.
With that, we holed up in the training center again.
Training, mana cultivation, and more training.
During that time, a senior who was a Hye-seong Group scholarship student dropped by and handed us a pile of elixirs.
Officially, they were from the Future Strategy Office, but it was probably the Underworld Dragon King who sent them.
I gave most of them to Seo Ye-in and kept just a few for myself.
I popped one pill into my mouth and sat in the lotus position.
I think I’m almost there.
If expressed in numbers, I was at 99% toward A-rank [Core].
I’ll probably reach it after this cultivation session.
Closing my eyes, I focused entirely on gathering mana.
***
In a large conference room, the faculty were seated in a circle.
They flipped through the documents in front of them, page by page, while watching the screen ahead.
Various figures were displayed. This was data measured during the recent midterm exams.
Since it was conducted privately, even the academic office couldn’t confirm what had happened inside. But basic metrics were provided as part of the artificial dungeon reset process.
The teacher standing at the front of the room reported in a calm tone.
“The maximum survival time was: third-years lasted until the morning of Day 6, second-years until the evening of Day 4, and first-years until the afternoon of Day 3.”
The listeners nodded thoughtfully and quietly exchanged a few words among themselves.
– That’s not too far off from our projections.
– Still, for first-years, that’s a decent run.
– This was the first time we introduced it, and they handled it well.
“The number of servant trades per grade was under ten for each year.”
– There are always a few who do it.
– Well, it is an artificial dungeon. If they thought it was important for their grade, they might’ve gone for it. Of course, they’ll have to take responsibility for that choice.
– With only a few doing it, I’d say that’s actually a good sign.
– It is surprising. I thought at least the first years would’ve made more trades.
– Their mental discipline is impressive.
– Perhaps they truly are the golden generation.
Among the first-year teachers, Lee Soo-dok, Seo Cheong-yong, and Jo Ok-soon, a warm sense of pride quietly spread.
But the real surprise was only just beginning.
The reporting teacher unusually trailed off at the end of his sentence.
“Kill count ranked in order: third-years… then first-years, followed by second-years.”
“…Are you certain?”
In response to someone’s question, he gave the exact numbers.
“Yes. Just in terms of Draconic Soldiers, the first-years took down 66. They have far surpassed the second-years’ 41.”
The room instantly filled with a murmur of astonishment.
– Is that even possible?
– They survived for fewer days but had a higher kill count?
– They must’ve used their cards wisely.
– Still, 66 soldiers? That’s hard to believe…
And the surprises didn’t stop there.
Even the reporting teacher frowned slightly, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was reading.
“Moreover… the first-years succeeded in subjugating the Dragonwing Soldier.”
– …!
– No way.
– !!
The faculty stared wide-eyed, stunned into silence.
The room, which had been buzzing with murmurs, fell into a brief hush.
After all, in Craft Haven, the Dragonwing Soldier and the Craftsman Dragon weren’t monsters meant to be defeated.
They were summoned purely to deliver a brutal, overwhelming experience.
Even among the faculty, the Dragonwing Soldier was an opponent no one could confidently say they could take on one-on-one.
Not even Lee Soo-dok or Seo Cheong-yong who were both considered among the top when it came to fighting power.
That’s why the two were certain.
“It must be him.”
“Yeah, that kid.”
The image of Kim Ho, wearing his signature evil smile, flickered through their minds.
Lee Soo-dok posed a question.
“What do you think, Mr. Seo?”
“No matter how skilled he is, item cards are all he’s got.”
“I think so too.”
“But even if he was handed an S-rank card… to take down a Dragonwing Soldier? Honestly, I’m skeptical.”
“He’s got the instincts of a born gambler.”
Lee Soo-dok grinned, baring his teeth.
He was already determined to challenge the boy someday, no matter what it took.
To him, feeding his competitive spirit mattered more than the teacher-student dynamic.
Most of the other faculty, unaware of this side of him, continued offering collective praise for the entire first-year class.
– They really are packed with talent this year.
– Just look at how they’ve performed in competitions, too.
Someone cautiously voiced a prediction.
– At this rate, they might even surpass the second-years.
Reactions were mixed. Half agreement, half skepticism.
– I don’t know; maybe it’s too soon to say.
– The second-years won’t go down easily either.
– We’ll have to keep watching and see.
– I wouldn’t say it’s impossible. Take Song Cheon-hye, for instance. Didn’t she have a B-rank core from the moment she enrolled?
– Hmm. At this pace, she might reach A-rank before advancing to the next year.
Most first-years were likely still stuck at C-rank, with only a handful of top students reaching B-rank.
Normally, students achieved an A-rank core sometime in the latter half of their second year or even in their third year.
But if one of them managed to reach it during first year…
– Wouldn’t that make them one of the youngest ever?
– They’d be in a league of their own among all first-years in Academy history.
***
As soon as I opened my eyes, a notification message greeted me.
[The rank of ‘Core’ has increased. (B+ → A+)]
Not only that, but a torrent of mana was now surging through my body….far beyond anything I’d felt before.
The harder the wall is to climb, the greater the reward once you’re over it.
Of course, the strength of an A-rank core isn’t just about a massive increase in mana capacity.
It means I can start learning high-level skills.
Like space-time magic, for example.
A prime example would be [Blink], the one I never stopped raving about.
Now that I’m thinking about it, I might as well learn it.
Blink was notorious for its high mana cost and absurd difficulty in actual use, but in terms of learning it, it was surprisingly easy.
It was a staple among mages, thoroughly researched, and even mass-produced in skill book form.
You can buy it at the student store.
It costs 50,000 points.
Not exactly cheap, but considering it’s a core mobility skill you’ll use for life, it’s more than worth it.
Besides, I could just dip into the points I’d racked up from the tournament.
Soon, I was holding a book that shimmered with a soft blue glow.
The moment I used it, it dissolved into particles of light and seeped into my body.
[You have acquired ‘Blink (F)’.]
At F-rank, the cooldown was 5 minutes.
And of course, it guzzles mana like crazy.
As the rank increases, both cooldown and mana consumption decrease.
So then, how do you raise its rank?
Just spamming it doesn’t cut it.
What really matters is proficiency.
Blink had two key challenges.
One was completing the insanely complex spell formula in an incredibly short time.
Fail, and you’ll lose your head to whatever blade-wielding maniac is charging at you.
The other was landing exactly on the coordinates you specify.
And in the middle of a hectic battle, choosing the optimal spot was part of the deal.
Both aspects of the spell are on a whole different level compared to the magic I’d used at B-rank and below.
That’s why, although most mages do learn Blink, not many can actually use it properly in combat.
Even among the top-ranking third-year club presidents, few can cast it freely every time it comes off cooldown.
Of course, I’m well past that stage.
From the moment I learned it, I had more than enough grasp of how it worked.
Still, I figured actually using it would feel different, so I brought Seo Ye-in with me to the training room.
Standing face-to-face, I spoke with a relaxed smile.
“I just learned a new skill.”
“….…?”
“Watch this.”
Gathering mana, I instantly completed the Blink formula.
In the blink of an eye, my view shifted dramatically and I was now staring at the back of a gray head.
A split-second later, Seo Ye-in turned around.
She looked a little surprised. Her eyes were slightly wider than usual.
“……!!”
[The rank of ‘Blink’ has increased. (F → E)]
Even I have to admit…that was flawless.
Clean enough to break out of F-rank in a single use.
I dismissed the notification with a smug look on my face.
“Who am I?”
The first first-year to ever own Blink.
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