"I have a proposition," I said quietly, my voice carrying through the ruined chamber like the whisper of a blade being drawn.
Kali's breathing was ragged, her posture defensive despite the exhaustion weighing her down. She still held herself like a fighter, even when her body scread otherwise.
"I can help you reclaim what your family lost."
That got her attention.
Her red eyes flickered, sothing sharp and wary gleaming behind them. She wanted to ignore . Wanted to believe I was bluffing. But even through the haze of pain, her instincts wouldn't let her dismiss my words outright.
"You, of all people, know how vital that art is to your legacy," I continued. "Without it, the Maelkith na remains second-tier. With it… you might surpass Lucifer one day."
A dangerous statent. A blasphemous one, even. But I saw it land.
Her expression twisted, a mix of disbelief and sothing darker—sothing dangerously close to hope.
"You're lying," she hissed, but her voice wavered.
I shrugged, keeping my stance casual, loose. "I'm not. I've done my research. I know enough to trace it. If you swear a mana oath to in the real world—that you'll aid when the ti cos—I'll recover it for you. Or guide you to it, at least."
The color drained from her face.
A mana oath.
A contract woven into the very essence of mana, binding its signatories in an unbreakable agreent. To break it was to invite destruction—not just physically, but spiritually.
"You'd control ," she whispered, her voice low, almost fearful.
"Not control," I corrected softly. "Just your word. You'll help when I call upon you. In exchange, I'll give you the ans to restore your family's ultimate martial art. And you'll have your revenge on those who overshadow you."
For a long mont, she didn't speak.
I let her wrestle with it.
Let the idea settle, let the weight of it sink in. Let her see the future this deal could bring her.
A path forward. A path out of the shadow she had been cast in.
Her lips pressed into a thin line. Her hands curled into shaking fists.
"I could just kill you," she snarled, her voice laced with venom.
It was a fair point.
But an empty one.
She was injured, exhausted, her mana reserves running on fus. Even if she had the strength left to kill here, she'd gain nothing.
No art. No power.
No way forward.
And she knew it.
"You're insane," she whispered. But the fire in her eyes told she wasn't walking away.
Then, with an almost imperceptible shudder, her shoulders relaxed.
"Fine," she said at last. "I accept. But if you lied to —if your claim turns out to be hollow—"
She let the threat hang.
I smiled. "That's fair."
She glared at but didn't protest when I reached into my pouch and pulled out a healing salve—one of the few high-grade ones I had kept in reserve. Carefully, I sared it over the worst of her wounds, watching as the mana-infused gel sank into her skin and accelerated the healing process.
She winced but didn't pull away.
That, more than anything, told the deal was sealed.
For now.
"Let's finish this," I said, unsheathing my sword.
Kali gulped, her body tensing despite herself.
Even knowing this was a simulation, that her actual body was safe outside the VR pod, she still feared the mont of virtual death.
Which, to be fair, was entirely reasonable.
Pain dampeners or not, the experience of dying in the virtual world was real enough to make people hesitate.
"I'll make it as painless as I can," I assured her, voice calm.
Her expression hardened. She was still Kali Maelkith—prideful, unyielding. She refused to flinch, refused to let herself look afraid.
So, when I swung my blade, she t it head-on.
There was no cry of pain, no gasp of fear.
Just acceptance.
Then, the world shattered.
As the last of the virtual realm crumbled, the battlefield faded into the abyss.
A bright screen flared in front of , listing the contribution rankings:
Lucifer Windward.
Arthur Nightingale.
Rachel Creighton.
Ren Kagu.
Number 2, huh?
Expected.
Lucifer had eliminated a quarter of the enemy force alone. Even if I had been the one to orchestrate the war, he had been its unstoppable force.
The ranking system calculated not just defeated opponents, but also strategic value.
And while I had set the board, Lucifer had burned half of it down.
The darkness closed in as the simulation logged us out.
My eyes fluttered open.
The cool, clinical light of the VR chamber replaced the battlefield's grim destruction. The pod's restraints released, and I pulled myself up with a deep inhale.
The world felt strangely slow.
No distant roar of beasts, no crackling magic. Just the low hum of the facility's artificial lights and the soft murmurs of waking students.
To my right, Lucifer sat up, stretching like he hadn't just waged war against half the Academy. His expression was unreadable, though I caught the smallest ghost of a smirk.
Rachel, across from , rubbed her temples, still adjusting to the transition back to reality.
Now, I had a mana oath to secure.
And the next phase of my plans to put in motion.
"You are insane," Jin said, his voice flat as he walked up to .
Coming from him, that was almost a complint. The Prince of the West was not known for casual conversation, let alone the kind that involved actual emotions. I tilted my head, more out of curiosity than denial.
"Insane?"
"No, I an," he started, then frowned, as if searching for the right words, "how did you keep track of all of us?"
There was sothing in his tone—genuine confusion, maybe even the smallest edge of admiration—but before I could respond, I noticed we had an audience. Rachel and Cecilia had drawn closer, their eyes sharp with curiosity, and beyond them, a few other students lingered, pretending not to eavesdrop while failing spectacularly.
"You were giving pretty exact orders to everyone," Jin continued, arms crossed, expression unreadable. "Your tactics weren't anything absurd, but you moved people like they were pieces on a board. You never hesitated. It was like you already knew what was going to happen."
"Well, you have to train your mind as well," I said, scratching my head as if it was sothing obvious, sothing anyone could do if they just put in the effort.
"Train your mind?" Rachel echoed, stepping in even closer, her sapphire eyes gleaming with sothing between fascination and scrutiny. She had a particular way of looking at people when she was interested in them—not just casual interest, but the kind of deep, analytical curiosity that made it feel like she was peeling away layers just by staring too long. It was a little unnerving.
"Honestly, I considered myself a good leader," she admitted, "but you're on another level. Your orders weren't just effective, they were precise. It was like you had precognition or sothing."
I blinked. Was it really that impressive?
To , it was just a matter of keeping track of all the available information. The battlefield wasn't chaos; it only looked like that to people who weren't trained to read the patterns. I had the map. I had every unit's position. I had every squad's strength estimated to the decimal point in my head, moving constantly as the battle shifted. All I had to do was visualize it in real ti, assign each 'point' a weight according to their strength, speed, and capabilities, then predict the most efficient moves.
Simulating it felt natural.
For , this was possible.
For them, apparently, it was sothing bordering on impossible.
Cecilia smiled, tilting her head just slightly, like she was watching a particularly amusing trick. "Well, well," she murmured, "looks like our little tactician isn't just book-smart after all."
Rachel still hadn't stopped staring. Jin, for his part, looked like he was reconsidering my entire existence.
I sighed. This was going to be annoying.
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