"For someone raised in such a traditional household, she surely doesn't behave properly like a woman should."
Michael muttered the thought as he trudged through The Scorching Barrens, his golden eyes scanning the endless dunes. The Vermillion House was legendary for being extremely traditional in every manner—not just socially conservative, but patriarchal down to every single person in their hierarchy. Orders flowed downward without question, and no one dared challenge the established structure. They executed every directive flawlessly, their military precision the envy of the empire.
The fact that they had just a sole heir, and that heir was a woman, was almost unreal.
But I suppose being cornered by succession crisis made them change their ways? Michael mused, then immediately dismissed the thought. Nah. Each of those traditional qualities were imbued in Ignatia as well. She would remember her place as a woman... at least I hope so.
A sandstorm kicked up suddenly, visibility dropping to near zero. Certainly Zone 2 The Burning Wastes was proving hot and unpredictable—sandstorms appearing randomly, Giant Sandworms bursting from beneath the surface without warning. The heat was oppressive even through his Argentus Silver Armor's temperature regulation systems.
He slid down a dune, his armored boots creating deep grooves in the sand.
As if on cue, a Desert Basilisk (C-Grade) erupted from the sand behind him, its bronze scales gleaming, venomous fangs extended.
Michael didn't even bother turning around. His right arm transformed seamlessly—silver plates shifting into the sleek configuration of his Mana Surge Cannon. The blast fired backward, catching the serpent mid-lunge and blowing its head clean off. The headless body thrashed for a moment before collapsing.
+10 points.
"Well, not that she isn't a woman, or an unpleasant one," Michael continued his internal monologue, his mind wandering back to Ignatia despite himself.
Her curvaceous hourglass figure was impossible not to notice. Those long legs that seemed to go on forever. Any dress she wore accentuated those curves perfectly. Yeah, Ignatia definitely wasn't lacking in physical assets as a woman. Her face was particularly striking too—beautiful in a severe, aristocratic way—apart from those unsettling heterochromatic eyes. And those lips...
"Definitely, if it wasn't for her personality being so full of herself," he muttered aloud, "I wouldn't mind being around her more often."
He shook his head sharply, banishing the thoughts. I'm getting a bit too carried away sometimes.
"Now then, should I kick things into gear and finish 1,000 points?"
"System," he called out, checking the interface display on his left forearm.
[CURRENT POINTS: 330]
[TARGET: 1,000]
Still far from the goal. He needed big scores—A-Grade monsters.
His eyes traveled to his right, catching movement about two hundred meters away. Three commoner students engaged in desperate combat against something massive and black.
Three figures trying their absolute best, though the monster didn't seem to care one bit. Its enormous tail whipped around with lethal speed, dangerously close to beheading the spectacled student wielding twin swords. He managed a desperate block at the last instant, the impact sending him skidding backward through the sand. The orange-haired student ran beside him, attempting to provide support.
An Obsidian Scorpion King (A-Grade)—its black carapace gleaming like volcanic glass, easily the size of a small house. The three were visibly getting desperate, their movements slowing from exhaustion and accumulated injuries.
A soft smile came to Michael's lips. What a scene. To think they compare us to these commoners and call it equality.
"Alright, System. Argentus Silver Armor, switch to Burst Gold Mode."
The armor began to glow brilliantly, plates transforming from silver to radiant gold as magical circuits lit up across the surface like veins of liquid sunlight. Power output tripled instantly.
"Set the Stellar Annihilation Cannon."
His right arm reconfigured into the massive weapon, humming with barely contained destructive force.
He aimed—not at the head, but center mass—and fired.
The concentrated mana blast tore through the air like a golden meteor. It struck the Obsidian Scorpion King directly in the thorax, and the creature's entire body exploded outward in a spray of black ichor and shattered carapace. The blast continued forward, engulfing all three students in the backwash of superheated air and magical discharge.
+30 points!
"Peaceful," Michael hummed with satisfaction.
Then his eyes widened.
All three students had barely moved out of the way—or rather, they'd been knocked backward by the scorpion's exploding body, which had inadvertently saved them from the full brunt of his attack. They were sprawled in the sand, coughing and covered in monster gore, but alive.
The chocolate-haired woman—Lara—glared directly at him with furious brown eyes.
Michael smiled softly toward her, his golden armor gleaming.
The student with glasses struggled to his feet, twin swords trembling in his grip. "Hey! Watch it!"
Michael's smile faltered.
"Do you intend on killing us off as well?!" the student shouted.
Michael frowned, genuine confusion crossing his features. "Watch it? Where's the thank you? I saved your lives—"
He stopped suddenly, realization dawning. Honestly, what do I expect from commoners?
"You guys were picking fights with a monster you clearly couldn't beat," Michael said dismissively.
"You think we're idiots?!" The spectacled student—Steve—was shaking with rage. "You blew apart its body, not its head! We were directly in your line of fire! If it wasn't for our Survival Blessings triggering, we would have died from your attack!"
Lara seemed to recognize the golden armor, her eyes widening slightly with understanding—and fear.
"Steve, calm down. It's done," she said urgently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We still have points to make, remember?"
"Lara!" Steve protested.
Michael hummed dismissively. "Yeah, listen to her and scram. Or do you lot intend on being buried in sand?"
His disdain became open contempt. "Honestly, seeing you makes me wonder why commoners are even allowed into Aethermoor. The amount of trash you all bring compared to actual talent just isn't worth the tradeoff."
"Steve... take that back, you scum!" Steve's voice cracked with fury. "You think that armor's strength is yours?!"
Michael's hands tightened into fists. "What are you saying?"
The veins in Steve's neck were bulging, his entire body trembling. "Yes, you trashy scum! Why don't you strip off that armor and face me properly? Let's see if you're worth anything without your family's heirloom!"
Lara's eyes went wide with alarm. "Steve, you're taking this way too far!" She grabbed his shoulders, physically pulling him back. "Orange, say something!"
She turned desperately to their third companion.
Orange himself looked visibly angry, his arm bleeding from where scorpion shrapnel had cut him. His dark blue eyes watched the confrontation with an intensity that was almost calculating, but he remained completely silent.
"Steve, come on!" Lara stared at Orange's injured arm. "We need to do something about his arm! Stop this!"
Michael's expression shifted to something harder, more dangerous. "You know what? Fine."
His voice dropped to deadly seriousness. "You insects think that being admitted here makes you special? Want to see what's underneath the armor?"
The golden plates began glowing with deactivation sequences. "Alright, it's off. I, Michael Aurelian of House Aurelian, will duel you right here and now—"
Before the armor could fully disengage, before Michael could finish his sentence, a woman's voice cut through the air like a blade.
"What's going on here?"
Instantly, the heat became unbearable.
The temperature didn't just increase—it skyrocketed beyond anything natural, beyond even the desert's brutal climate. In an instant, the sand beneath their feet began to vitrify, transforming into molten glass with crackling sounds.
Michael's eyes went wide as his entire body felt like it was melting off his bones from the inside out. He couldn't breathe—the air itself was too hot to inhale without choking.
[SYSTEM WARNING: EXTERNAL MANA PRESSURE DETECTED]
[ARMOR INTEGRITY: 34% AND FALLING]
[INTERNAL TEMPERATURE: CRITICAL - OCCUPANT SURVIVAL THREATENED]
All three commoner students felt the same crushing, burning sensation.
Lara's hair began to singe and fall out in clumps, the ends turning to ash. Steve's twin swords glowed red-hot in his hands, the metal beginning to warp and melt clean off the hilts. Orange dropped to his knees, gasping, his face going pale as his body tried and failed to regulate its temperature.
They all turned toward the source of the oppressive aura.
A woman stood atop a nearby dune, silhouetted against the harsh sun. Her lush white hair was tied in an immaculate bun despite the heat distortion in the air. Her heterochromatic eyes—one sapphire blue, one ruby red—scanned the scene below with sharp, cold intelligence.
Ignatia Vermillion.
"Michael," she said again, her voice perfectly calm despite the apocalyptic heat radiating from her body. "What is happening here?"
The oppressive aura vanished as abruptly as it had appeared.
Michael and the others gasped, sucking in desperate breaths. Despite being in a scorching desert, they suddenly felt like they were cooling off rapidly—the contrast was so extreme it felt like standing in winter snow.
"We should leave," Orange muttered, his voice hoarse. He practically dragged both Lara and Steve away from the scene.
Lara nodded eagerly, tears streaming down her face from pain and fear as she sobbed openly. Steve's face had gone completely blank, shellshocked, still clutching his half-melted swords.
They retreated into the desert without another word.
Michael stared after them. "What—?"
His armor's emergency cooling systems kicked in, rapidly lowering his internal temperature. He shook his head, trying to forget the sensation of nearly being melted alive inside his family's prized heirloom.
"You heard how those cockroaches were speaking to me," Michael said, his voice still shaken. "You expect me to remain silent?"
Ignatia's expression remained neutral. "Well, what's done is done. The academy benefits us nobles as well, Michael. We fund talent here and help polish it."
Her mismatched eyes narrowed. "You were about to break one of the talents we've spent considerable effort to raise."
Michael looked genuinely confused—and slightly angry. "That sword-wielding one? Steve? You were going to kill me for defending myself against some uppity commoner?"
"No. I merely defused the situation and settled the score for their tone," Ignatia said coolly. "I wasn't protecting Steve."
She paused. "Orange."
Michael blinked. "The quiet one?"
"His blessing ability is excellent. Extremely rare and potentially S-Rank in application," Ignatia explained. "If it wasn't for Serina Frostwind's prodigious research talent, Orange would be the next bright star of our empire."
Michael hummed thoughtfully. "Orange, huh? Well... I guess I can see it."
He paused, then added with a hint of bitterness, "Let's hope he doesn't have a change of heart after today."
"It's not his decision to make," Ignatia said simply, her tone brooking no argument. "Sponsored students don't choose their loyalties."
Her eyes refocused on Michael. "It seems you haven't broken through to Mana Circuit Level 4 yet."
Michael shrugged, some defensiveness creeping into his voice. "I haven't had any time to train properly. Father's had me stuck in management lectures and trade negotiations constantly."
He sighed. "Honestly, is it even worth trying that hard? One thousand points is relatively easy with the armor's firepower. And as for ranking..." He trailed off uncomfortably. "It's practically a given that Lady Lyralei Valen will take first place. Competing for the top against her isn't even worth imagining."
Ignatia hummed noncommittally. "Well, I'm checking on our Talent Program investments. Making sure our sponsored students survive the examination."
Michael nodded. Right, the joint sponsorship arrangements between noble houses—identifying promising commoners early and funding their education in exchange for future loyalty. Father handled all that administrative tedium. Michael couldn't even remember which specific commoners were under House Aurelian's direct patronage.
He grinned slightly, trying to recover his usual confidence. "Want to team up to reach 1,000 points? Then we can scout together afterward."
He gestured at his armor. "The academy didn't let me bring Mana Storage Crystals. I've been fueling this armor directly from my mana circuits. I'm a bit drained."
Ignatia paused, considering. "Sure. If you can even remember the priority list, that is."
As Michael turned away to scan for more monsters, Ignatia's eyes tracked the retreating forms of the three commoner students in the distance.
Her eyes sharpened with calculating focus.
Strange. Which of those three had that intense, murderous bloodlust? Or was it someone else observing from nearby?
She replayed the moment in her mind—that split second before she'd released her aura, when she'd felt something dangerous coiling in the air. Killing intent. Focused. Controlled. Waiting.
If I hadn't arrived when I did, they would have certainly beheaded Michael the moment his armor came off. That entire confrontation felt orchestrated.
Lara? She dismissed the thought immediately. No, that woman was worthless in a fight—pure support type.
Steve? Possible, but his rage had seemed genuine, uncontrolled. Not the calculated patience of an assassin.
Orange? But what would he benefit from killing a noble heir? It would destroy any future he had, Talent Program sponsorship or not.
Or something else lurking around here?
Her heterochromatic eyes scanned the desert landscape carefully, looking for any sign of hidden observers.
I should be more careful going forward.
The Monitoring Control Room was unusually quiet.
Professor Sylvia broke the silence, her voice filled with concern. "We must recall them back immediately!"
She gestured at the display showing Lara sobbing, Steve in shock, and Orange bleeding. "They're too injured to continue safely."
Professor Vincent adjusted his spectacles, his mechanical augmentations whirring softly. "No. It appears Student Orange has remarkable talent in his blessing abilities. We should let them figure it out themselves. If they can't manage, then we'll call them back."
Professor Whisper nodded, her doll-like face expressionless. "Too much care would ruin the yield," she murmured in her characteristic monotone.
Professor Gareth sighed heavily. "Well... I suppose so. We can't coddle them forever."
The scene shifted to Zone 1: The Verdant Meadows.
Lyralei blinked, remaining frozen in her combat stance, black lightning still crackling around her clenched fists. Her eyes were locked on the tall, white-masked figure before her.
"Aurora?" she asked cautiously. "Is that you?"
The white-masked woman blinked behind her featureless porcelain mask—and immediately moved.
She closed the distance in an instant, reaching out to flick Lyralei's forehead playfully.
Maybe it was because her mental composition was shaken from the sudden appearance, but Lyralei dodged the woman with practiced ease, jumping backward and creating space between them.
"Hey, quit it, Aurora!" Lyralei said, annoyance creeping into her voice. "What are you even doing here?"
"I'm not Aurora!" the white-masked woman protested, her soothing voice carrying genuine indignation.
"Come on, you're fooling no one," Lyralei muttered, clearly not believing her for a second.
The white-haired woman tilted her head. "What gave me away?"
Lyralei froze as if she'd been asked something incredibly obvious.
She looked the figure up and down slowly—taking in the full height, the flowing white mage's dress, the distinctive proportions.
"Size?" Lyralei finally muttered.
The masked woman went completely still. "...What?"
"You have a very memorable figure," Lyralei said matter-of-factly, gesturing vaguely at the woman's tall, statuesque build and curves.
There was a long, awkward silence.
"Huh?" the masked woman said quietly.
Then louder: "Huh?!"