Nolan stood over it, wiped the blade slowly, almost lazily, across his coat.
The blood sared in dark lines. He sheathed it with grace.
Inside, he could feel every joint in his body screaming.
But his voice? Calm. Confident.
"Well, that was easy."
"Sir... That was insane," Selin whispered.
Kera chid in, "Tomorrow! We're definitely showing up tomorrow!"
"You have to teach us that trick," Calien added. "You promised!"
"I will," Nolan said with a nod. But in his mind, sothing else clicked entirely.
Tomorrow? Heh. Tomorrow I'll be gone.
Once he got the system reward from this cursed academy... Once he had his mission done.
He'd slip out.
Grow alone. Hunt alone. Master it all—alone.
His internet power—his future system interface—that would be his alone to wield.
If the system insists on teaching, Nolan will go to another academy, be a teacher again and teach class. But he won't demonstrate how gas can strengthen his students; he won't show it.
Instead, he will just use the internet to search and teach the students sothing that might be a little useful.
That's all!
He'd leave this place behind, and no one would know what hit them.
But for now?
"Alright," Nolan said aloud. "Let's break it down. Flashlight use."
The students were still hanging on every word.
He raised the flashlight again, spinning it slightly between his fingers. "Forget the knife for a mont. You're not ready for throws. Half of you don't even know how to balance your mana with movent. But light? Light is simple. Light is your friend."
He clicked the button.
On.
Off.
"Why start with the flashlight? Because it teaches reaction control. You learn when to blind and when to move. You study enemy rhythm—most infected have corrupted motor control, which makes their eyes hypersensitive to sudden light. Especially those who are in buildings... they've been in those places for so long."
Click. Click.
He flashed the beam in intervals.
"You use it to break their motion pattern. Trick their charge. You don't need a skill to do that. You need guts and timing."
"But sir," Erik asked, "what if we don't have flashlights in real life and we have no choice but to fight? In real life, it doesn't let us carry tools into every setting."
Nolan paused.
"Use a 0-Tier spell called 'Flash.'"
"The utility spell?" Selin asked. "The one that's like... used for ergency flare signals?"
"Yes." Nolan said, his mind racing now. "Exactly. That one."
He totally hadn't thought of it earlier. But now? This was gold. What a good student.
He cleared his throat and leaned in like he was about to reveal sacred knowledge.
"Listen carefully. That 0-Tier spell—Flash—is the foundation of every blinding technique in combat. It's ignored because it's not lethal, but that's exactly why it's powerful."
The students leaned in closer.
Nolan continued, now totally buying into his own improvisation. "Flash is instant-cast. It uses almost zero mana. No chant delay. You can cast it in motion, in close quarters, or even mid-air. It's your ergency exit button in a fight. And unlike other spells, its brightness scales with your focus, not your level."
He started pacing, waving the flashlight like a general gesturing in battle.
"Imagine this—you're backed into a corner. No weapons. Infected crawling toward you. You blast Flash. Their retinas fry. You roll past. You live."
"You want to disrupt a caster's line of sight? Flash."
"You want to bait a counterattack from a beast? Flash."
"You want to look really cool before doing a final strike? Flash."
"But sir," Ruvin asked, "doesn't it leave you exposed?"
Nolan spun toward him dramatically. "Only if you stand still like an idiot. You flash—then move. Strike. Or reposition. This isn't turn-based magic. This is live combat. And if you can master timing with Flash, every other spell becos ten tis easier to execute."
There was a beat of silence.
Then cheering.
"I knew it, it's the sa as a 0 tier spell!"
"I'm going to morize Flash right now!"
"Sa!"
"I'm going to macro-bind it to my gesture trigger!"
"Sir, what happens if we combine Flash with a movent spell?"
Nolan gave a small grin. With simple bullshiting, he said. "Then you're not students anymore... You're assassins."
Just as the students continued shouting theories and excited spell combinations, Nolan reached the final stairwell and ascended to the fourth floor.
Suddenly, his screen flickered:
[Uploading Resources... Simulation Complete.]
He blinked.
Then—teleport.
Back into the classroom.
The wooden floor. The dimd lights. The hovering classroom do displaying the students' interface.
He cracked his neck and stretched—just slightly—so no one would notice the exhaustion in his eyes.
"Alright," he called, his voice firm and commanding again. "You saw it. You heard it. Now it's your turn."
The students looked around, hesitating.
"Well?!" Nolan shouted. "We've got thirty minutes left! Go faster!"
They jumped.
"Yes, sir!"
Each student returned to their screens. The simulation restarted for them—so in apartnts, so in broken stores, so in infected schools. One by one, they entered dark, abandoned buildings with shaky hands.
This ti, each of them had Flash mapped.
And they used it.
At first, it was clumsy. Their timing was off. Their movent is sloppy.
Selin scread when she blinded herself.
Kera cast it too early, and the infected grabbed her anyway.
Calien tried to combo it into a throw and missed completely.
But slowly...
It worked.
The disorientation bought them seconds.
The panic faded.
And though so still died—many survived longer than ever before.
Nolan leaned back in the instructor's chair, arms crossed, watching them silently.
They were learning.
Even if they didn't know it yet.
Finally, the tir pinged in his ear.
[Class Ti: 0:00]
He stood up.
"Alright, class," he said firmly. "That's the end of class."
The students stopped, exhausted, breathing hard from their simulation links.
"See you tomorrow," Nolan said, turning away. "At the assessnt."
Suddenly, as the simulation ended and the echoes of their digital deaths and victories still buzzed in their ears, Ruvin—quiet but sharp-eyed—raised his hand slightly and spoke with asured curiosity.
"Sir," Ruvin said respectfully, "may I ask... why are you so adamant that we go to the assessnt tomorrow?"
The room stilled.
The other students turned their gazes toward Nolan, who had been nonchalantly leaning on the edge of the wooden podium, arms crossed, tapping the hilt of his sheathed throwing knife with a fingertip.
Nolan blinked, a flicker of amusent tugging at his features.
"Well," he said, pausing as if pondering sothing deep and profound. "Hmm. That's... a good question."
He rubbed his chin dramatically, pacing back and forth as if weighing an answer forged from the depths of philosophical tornt.
Then, suddenly, his eyes lit up with mock inspiration.
"You see, during the past month—yes, a whole month—while I was being evaluated in my trial period, not a single student wanted to be taught by ."
He paused dramatically. No one interrupted.
"Why?" he continued, tone turning mock-hurt. "Because... because my teaching fee was 'too expensive.' Apparently, paying a lot of Mana Crystals per session is outrageous, even if it guarantees that you will experience life and death simulations to prepare them for real ones."
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