Internet Mage Professor Chapter 17: Single player mode

Nolan watched silently as the infected lunged at his students within the ga simulation.

So scread.

Others gritted their teeth. Most of them fought back with the fierceness of cornered animals.

They were improving, sure—but too fast and too recklessly. He cannot let that happen. His goal is to let them taste a little bit of the internet, not to be purely improved by it.

Then he clicked a single command on the system interface.

Every screen froze mid-movent. Infected locked in place mid-leap.

Students mid-sprint or mid-swing stood still, their faces frozen in motion.

One even had a steel pipe mid-air, about to crack a virtual infected skull.

The sudden pause made the classroom fall into chaos again, but this ti it was confusion.

"Huh?"

"What happened?"

"Did the illusion pause?"

"Hey, teacher! The Arcane special realm illusion stopped!"

But Nolan stood up from his chair, arms clasped behind his back. His face was calm, but his voice carried a quiet weight that imdiately silenced them all.

"Restart your simulations," he said.

The students blinked.

"Wait, what? Why?"

"You heard . Restart," he said again, more firmly. "And choose single-player mode."

A few students groaned, confused.

"But multiplayer was going so well!"

"I finally had a rhythm!"

"I almost reached the second floor!"

Nolan's eyes narrowed. "My class isn't about almost. It's about tomorrow. You think this is a ga, sothing for fun? You want to rely on each other too soon, and what happens when one of you fails tomorrow in the real thing? What happens when there's no teammate to save you?"

He paused, scanning their faces.

"Multiplayer is for the future. Or maybe for my next class. Right now? I need warriors who know how to think on their own. Act on their own. Survive on their own."

The room grew quiet.

"You've relied on others your entire academic life. So of you have coasted off group efforts. Followed the strongest. Hide behind those with better combat skills. But that won't help you in the exam tomorrow."

His voice sharpened.

"Do you know why most people fail the Arcane Academy's advancent exam? It's not because they lack power. It's because they lack individual clarity. One misstep, one second of hesitation, one over-reliance on soone else... and you're dead."

A beat passed.

"I'm not here to pamper you. I'm not here to be your friend. I'm here to beat the illusion of safety out of your skulls before the exam chews you up and spits you out."

His words lingered. Heavy. Uncomfortable.

So students looked away, brows furrowed.

Others stared at their screens in silence, thoughtful.

He could see it in their eyes.

So were starting to understand.

They restarted the ga.

And this ti, each of them clicked the single-player mode.

One by one, they were dropped back into the desolate streets of the simulation, alone. No teammates. No backup. No comforting presence behind them.

Just the cold, unforgiving environnt of the infected zone.

And Nolan?

He returned to his chair and leaned back, folding his arms, watching in silence.

At first, it was noisy again. The students were loud, their voices overlapping.

"Ahh! It's behind !"

"I don't have a pipe this ti!"

"Oh no, oh no—wait! Never mind—I juked it! I actually juked it!"

Their panic made his ears ring, but he didn't say anything. He could tolerate it—for now.

They were still adapting.

Soon, as they reached their first buildings, the infected began showing up again. The inside environnts were cramped. Shadowy. Dangerous.

The students were tense. They held their flashlights low, checking corners. The knife in their other hand barely qualified as a weapon—but it had to do.

And then—it ca.

The first infected.

Each student faced their own.

In that mont, Nolan sat straighter. He watched the tension in their stances, the timing of their movents, the way their feet shifted backward or forward.

And then—

SLASH

They fought.

And they didn't just survive.

They obliterated the infected.

It was ssy. Clumsy. Sotis they missed. So took hits. One or two panicked too early and got bit, dying right there and restarting.

But most of them learned.

Fast.

They climbed to the second floor of their respective buildings, facing more infected. Sotis they crept up staircases. Sotis they kicked through debris.

The second floor had more enemies—sotis two at once, or one stronger than usual.

But now, sothing had changed.

They weren't just reacting.

They were strategizing.

One girl, Mae, began baiting the infected into narrow hallways where she could stab without being surrounded.

Another, Ruvin, used his flashlight to blind the infected montarily before sweeping past them and escaping into a side room.

Timing.

Spacing.

Positioning.

One of them—Erik—started making noise deliberately from one end of the floor, then doubled back and cleared the path quietly.

Yes. This was what Nolan wanted.

They died plenty of tis. But they restarted imdiately. Every death made them faster. Smarter. More ruthless.

And by the ti they reached the third floor, Nolan could see it: their patterns were clean. So of them didn't even swing anymore unless they had to.

They relied on throwing trash, distracting, circling behind. It was like watching a pack of street rats learning how to navigate a labyrinth.

Even those who struggled began adapting.

Selin died eight tis before the third floor. She kept getting trapped in a tight hallway. But then she started morizing the spawn patterns. She skipped that hallway completely and instead used an alternate path through a broken window.

No one taught her that.

She figured it out herself.

That was the whole point.

Nolan's lips curled in satisfaction.

Then ca the fourth floor.

As each student made it up, the screen changed.

[UPLOADING RESOURCES. PLEASE WAIT.]

Everything faded into white.

And then... silence.

The students began to wake up in real life, each of them drenched in sweat, faces pale and hair plastered to their foreheads.

Their bodies jerked as they gasped, catching their breath as if they'd run a marathon.

So clutched their chests.

So leaned back, exhaling deeply.

Others... smiled.

Wide, exhausted, victorious smiles.

"That was crazy..." Ruvin whispered, half-laughing.

"I thought I'd die for real," Kera muttered, running a hand through her damp hair.

"I was shaking," Erik said. "But I made it. I made it with just a damn kitchen knife."

One by one, they began sharing their experiences.

"I didn't have a pipe this ti," Selin said. "So I used a broken chair leg. It worked. Barely."

"I hid under a desk at one point," Mae admitted. "I could hear the infected walking by... I held my breath."

"Soone should have recorded my run," another boy said. "I was parkouring over vending machines."

They laughed together. Talked over one another. Bonded through shared terror.

"I stabbed one in the neck and ran while it scread!"

"I found a fire alarm. Set it off. Every infected on the floor ran to it. I slipped past."

"That damn kitchen knife, man. It's like... it's tiny, but when you have to survive, it feels like a sword."

Nolan watched quietly.

No one even noticed he was still standing there.

They were too absorbed in their stories, in their own little victories, in their growth.

He didn't say a word.

He didn't have to.

They were becoming what he needed them to be.

Then, amidst the chatter, one hand slowly raised.

It was Calien.

He looked calr now. Still serious. Sweat beaded his brow, but his eyes held clarity.

"Sir," he said, his voice respectful.

"May I ask a question?"