Heating Up

Finally, the first class of the day was over, but something felt off—Claire had been tailing me like a lost puppy since I left the room.

And because of that, every passing student gave me the look. You know the one. The "who-is-this-guy-and-why-is-he-suddenly-popular" look. Whispers trailed behind me like I'd just become the Academy's most talked-about mystery.

I had no clue what she wanted, but if this kept up, I'd have a fan club by lunch.

I stopped in my tracks and spun around. "Alright, you. Spill it. What's up?"

She crossed her arms, trying to look composed but failing miserably. "I'm just... curious."

Oh, here we go. "Curious? About what? My skincare routine?"

Her eyes narrowed into slits. "How did you answer those impossible questions on the entrance exam?"

Ah, that. She wanted to know how I cracked Seraphina's allegedly unsolvable problem. Cute. This was going to be harder to explain than why people still think pineapple belongs on pizza.

"So… you're asking me to tutor you?" I smirked, only half-serious.

Her face went bright pink, and she practically spat her response. "W-what?! No way! I'm just curious! That's all!"

Right. Sure. And I'm the king of subtlety.

"Okay, then why are you following me like a detective on a stakeout?" I cocked an eyebrow, genuinely curious now.

"I-I just... want to figure it out, alright?!" she stammered, suddenly finding the ground more fascinating than quantum physics.

I sighed dramatically. Yep, she was obsessed with the answer but way too proud to admit she needed help. It was kinda… adorable, honestly. Like watching a cat try to act all tough after falling off a couch.

"Alright, follow me," I said, and started walking toward the library. Surprisingly, she didn't protest. No snarky comment, no eye roll. Just quietly followed along. Weird.

We found a quiet corner, and I pulled out a sheet of paper, scribbling the formula for the teleportation spell. After a few moments, I slid the paper her way.

"Okay, which part of this magical nightmare don't you get?"

She stared at the formula like it was written in an ancient, forbidden language—which, to be fair, it kinda was. After a solid minute of awkward silence, it hit me—she didn't know jack about differential calculus.

So, I broke it down for her. I mean, from the absolute basics. And you know what? She actually listened. Her usual icy, snarky vibe melted as she focused on my words like a student trying to pass her final exam by sheer force of will.

When I finally finished, I leaned back. "So, you get it now?"

Her eyes widened like I'd just handed her the holy grail of math. "T-this is amazing... I didn't know there was a formula like this. Yeah, I get it now."

"Good," I said, standing up. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have places to be and a reputation to protect."

Finally, sweet, sweet freedom. I didn't need Claire tagging along, especially since she was one of the most popular girls in the Academy. Having her around was like carrying a neon sign that screamed, Look at me, potential love interest incoming! No, thank you.

I turned to leave, but then I heard her voice again, softer this time.

"W-wait... t-thank you."

I froze. What the—? Was she… blushing?

Was this the same Claire who looked at me like I was beneath her earlier? She was acting like... like a flustered anime tsundere.

"Yeah, no problem," I said, trying to sound casual while my brain was screaming, What is happening right now?

I took a few steps, fully prepared to make my escape, but she called out again, her voice a little wobbly.

"N-next time... c-can you teach me too?"

I blinked. Was she serious? Did Claire just ask me for more lessons?

"Uh, sure?" I replied, still half expecting this to be some kind of prank.

As I walked away, I couldn't help but think, what the heck just happened? This was not the same cold, aloof Claire I'd met on day one.

And now? Now she was stammering, blushing, and thanking me like I was some kind of genius tutor.

I left the library, still scratching my head. If she kept this up, I'd have to invest in a disguise to avoid the rumor mill. I did not sign up for this.

Since I had a little free time, curiosity got the better of me. I figured, why not ask the system about Dorian's mana stats? Gotta keep tabs on the competition, right?

[Dorian Ashford has a mana stat of 11.4]

Wait, what? 11.4? That high? As expected from someone rocking a 4-star magic core.

Meanwhile, I can't even break past 5. Not that I'm bitter or anything, but seriously, how the heck do I level up my mana? It's like my progress bar is stuck on buffering.

As I wandered back, lost in thought, I was jolted back to reality when Draven—because of course it had to be Draven—decided to body-check me, that smug grin practically glued to his face.

"You think you're so great, huh?" he sneered, his eyes practically dripping with hostility. "I'll destroy you in combat class later. Just watch."

Ah, Draven. Always looking for a fight like it's on his bucket list or something. Shouldn't he be picking a battle with Dorian instead? Maybe I threw off the game's script when I outsmarted Instructor Seraphina on day one. Oops?

"Whatever," I muttered, playing it cool. "I've got places to be."

But as I turned to leave, he shoved me again, like a playground bully who didn't get the memo that recess was over.

"You think I'll let you walk away that easy?!" he barked.

Great. Looks like we were about to reenact a middle school brawl in front of the whole Academy. Just as I was bracing myself for things to escalate into Punches: The Sequel, someone stepped in between us.

"Hey, can we cool it? The instructors are going to have our heads if they find out," Dorian said, his tone that perfect mix of 'I'm bored' and 'I'm also way above this.'

"Tch, Dorian," Draven spat, glaring at him. "You think you're so great?"

But even he knew better than to pick a fight with the Dorian Ashford. With a final scowl in my direction, Draven stormed off, clearly not done plotting my demise.

I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. Who knew Dorian was capable of playing mediator? Maybe he's got more layers than his brooding exterior lets on.

"You alright?" Dorian asked, sounding more annoyed than concerned, but hey, at least he asked.

"Yeah, I'm good. Don't sweat it," I said, brushing off the whole thing like it wasn't about to give me a migraine later.

Dorian lingered for a second, probably trying to decide if he should give me some kind of pep talk. I, however, made a quick exit before any more "bonding moments" could happen.

Sigh. Combat class was next. Hooray. Not like I needed practice or anything, what with all the distractions and random shoving matches getting in the way. Normally, this would be the part in the story where Draven challenges Dorian to a fight—and loses, of course, because Dorian's basically the poster child for OP protagonist.

But now? Oh, Draven's definitely gunning for me. Because why wouldn't he? Plot, shmop, this guy's got a grudge like it's his full-time job.

The real problem? Draven's actually got talent. He controls the sand element—rare, powerful, and perfect for defense. Later in the novel, he becomes one of the strongest students, an absolute tank on the battlefield. So, yeah, he's not just all bluster.

Can I take him on? With my mana still stuck in the single digits, I'm not exactly brimming with confidence. But my swordsmanship is solid, and I've got decent mana control.

Besides, it's not like I have a choice. If Draven wants to throw down, then fine. I'll just have to fight smart. After all, I didn't get dragged into this world just to lose to some guy with a sandcastle complex.

Even if I somehow manage to dodge a fight with Draven, there's no escaping this: we have to pick an opponent from the S Rank class. And let me tell you, every single one of them is oozing with talent. It's like being forced into a talent show where all the contestants are future world champions, and I'm just hoping to walk offstage in one piece.

Combat class was about to start, and this one was going to be held out in the open field—a massive arena where the S Rank and A Rank classes would be combined, though we'd still be fighting separately. But that didn't change the fact that there were going to be a lot of students around.

As I stepped onto the field, the atmosphere hit me like a wave. The stands were packed, and the air practically buzzed with excitement, like everyone was ready to witness some epic showdowns. All eyes were on me—well, more like on my general direction. Word must have spread about the "fallen noble" making waves in the S Rank.

And, as if summoned by my internal monologue of doom, a familiar, irritating voice sliced through the crowd.

"Look who decided to show up! The famous Ravenhart, the Academy's favorite charity case!" It was Ian Canius, A Rank's resident loudmouth and my least favorite person from Zeug City. He looked as smug as ever, and his mere presence made my skin itch.

"Don't think being in S Rank makes you hot stuff," he sneered, clearly enjoying the moment.

I shot him a smirk. "At least I'm above you, Ian." Lighthearted on the outside, but inside? I was already over this conversation.

His expression soured, and that dangerous glint in his eye told me he wasn't done yet. "You think you're all that? You got lucky once. When we fight, I'm going to show you what real power looks like!"

Yikes. Someone woke up on the wrong side of mediocrity. I didn't feel like sticking around to hear the rest of his villain monologue, so I casually shrugged and turned away. Let him stew in his own salt. I had bigger things to worry about.

Just then, a booming voice echoed across the field. "Attention, students! Class is about to start. Today is a combined session between the S Rank and A Rank classes, and I, Isaac Mavis, will be your instructor."

Immediately, the chatter died down, and all eyes snapped to Isaac. Even Ian stopped muttering death threats under his breath.

"Today, you'll be sparring with each other," Isaac continued, his voice firm and commanding. "And you'll be wearing Glimmerbands for protection."

Glimmerbands—the game's magical version of a life bar. Put one on, and it'll shield you during combat. But here's the kicker: the bands will also reveal the number of stars on your magic core for everyone to see.

Oh. Great. A public ranking system. Just what I needed. Normally, people can only figure out your magic core by either circulating their mana or awkwardly touching you to sense it. But with these bands? It's like a flashing sign that screams, "Hey, check out my stats!"

"I'll be passing out the Glimmerbands now. Make sure you wear them right away," Isaac ordered, handing out the bands like candy at a festival.

As soon as everyone slipped them on, the excitement and nervous energy spiked. The Glimmerbands lit up, displaying each student's magic core ranking. And, as expected, all eyes immediately locked onto Dorian. His band practically glowed with the four stars of his core, outshining everyone else on the field.

"I didn't think I'd see a four-star core in the Academy," one student marveled, sounding like they'd just seen a unicorn.

"Dorian, you're incredible!" another gushed.

"I can't believe he's only a student with that kind of power," someone else muttered, their voice tinged with awe.

As usual, Dorian was the center of attention, with everyone swooning over his four-star magic core. It was like the Academy's unofficial Dorian fan club had just hit the jackpot.

Meanwhile, I tugged on my Glimmerband, mentally bracing myself for the inevitable. Because while everyone was fawning over Dorian, I had a sneaking suspicion that the real action was about to start, and, lucky me, I was probably going to be the one in the spotlight soon enough.

"Hey, look! There's a loser with two stars!" Ian's voice rang out, dripping with more mockery than usual.

Great. Trouble's back on the menu. Clearly, Ian had been waiting for his moment to publicly try and bury me.

"What the hell? How does an S Rank student have only a two-star magic core?" he continued, his laughter spreading like a virus.

"Even we don't have anyone with two stars in A Rank Class. That's just sad!" chimed in another voice from the peanut gallery.

"Cheated, for sure. No way someone like that gets into S Rank legit!"

The jeers swirled around me, sharp and biting, and I could feel every eye laser-focused on my apparent 'shortcomings.' I knew this was coming, but wow, the sting was real.

Then, of course, the cherry on top: Draven. He stepped forward with his usual face that screamed I'm about to make your day worse.

"Ha! This two-star loser thinks he can talk big? Just wait 'til I wipe the floor with you later, Ravenhart!"

Deep breath. Let it out. The last thing I needed was to give him the satisfaction of getting a rise out of me. Besides, the adrenaline coursing through me was already enough to keep my cool.

Suddenly, Instructor Isaac's voice boomed over the arena, cutting through the chaos. "Alright, everyone! Time for combat training to begin!"

Thank the gods. Finally, a distraction.

"We'll be drawing names, and each student will choose their opponent."

Here it comes. I could practically feel the universe loading its 'bad luck for Lucius' file. If the novel's script was anything to go by, this was the moment. And sure enough—

"Student Draven Vortigern, please choose your opponent," Isaac called out.

Draven's grin stretched wide, practically screaming, I've been waiting for this.

"I choose Lucius Ravenhart!" he declared, his eyes gleaming with the kind of anticipation a predator gets right before it pounces.

Ugh. Typical. I rolled my shoulders and walked toward the center of the arena, pretending this was no big deal. The field stretched out—100 square meters, plenty of space to work with. At least I had room to move if things got too dicey.

Then, out of nowhere, the system hit me with a little surprise.

[New Mission]

[Defeat Draven Vortigern in combat training.]

[Reward: ???]

Well, well, well. Looks like the system wants me to ruin Draven's day as much as he wants to ruin mine. A mysterious reward? I'm in. This was my first mission since becoming Lucius, and I sure wasn't going to miss it. If the game's mechanics were anything to go by, victory meant something good was coming my way.

Without a second thought, I summoned my sword from my magic storage with a quick, smooth motion. Gasps echoed across the crowd. They hadn't expected that.

"So, he's a magic swordsman?" one student whispered, probably more to themselves than anyone else.

"But can he even do anything with a two-star magic core?" another scoffed, clearly doubting I could cut my way through butter, let alone Draven.

"Looks like someone's here to show off," someone else added, their voice dripping with skepticism. I ignored them. The only thing that mattered now was Draven and proving to everyone I wasn't here just for decoration.

"Haha! You ready for me to send you crying to bed?" Draven taunted, swaggering forward with all the subtlety of a bulldozer.

I tightened my grip on the sword and smirked. "We'll see who's crying by the end of this." My voice was steady, despite the tornado of nerves twisting inside me.

Isaac stepped back, hand raised, signaling the start. My heartbeat quickened, and suddenly, everything around us faded into the background. No jeers. No whispers. Just me and Draven, and the match that was about to decide who'd be on the ground.

And then, the fight began.