CHAPTER 77: DISCIPLE CULTIVATION SYSTEM CH77 FOUR DAYS.

"I was asleep for four days?"

Patting the bandages wrapped around his waist, Art exclaimed, seemingly shocked at such a discovery.

He had expected a day, maybe two at most, especially after how much he had abused his body, but four days... it sounded almost surreal.

"You suffered multiple cases of internal bleeding from the continuous use of your core. The wounds were so severe that even the spell keeping the rank games safe couldn’t prevent them. Your core also suffered greatly. Right now, you’re being examined as having a visible crack on it. There was also the feedback from abusing your intent."

Hearing Grim give him a run-down of his conditions, Art couldn’t help but grow pale.

"Weren’t you ever taught restraint? You know, the first basis of Aura control."

Art wanted to scream that he was actually an illiterate in that field since he had never attended any of the Four Pillars. But then he remembered—he had played the game. This information should have been known to him, and yet he had discarded it just to fight a branch of students.

Sure, he had a good reason, but to many, he might come off as petty. Going one hundred percent against students.

"I guess it was expected. After all, I was against most of the Seven."

"Oh right... I forgot you believe yourself to be of their generation."

Grim had grown so used to Art’s company that she always mistook him for her own age group. Hearing him speak of the Seven reminded her—he actually was one of them.

Art was still in his early twenties, just a year or two above most of the first-years, but that begged another question. Wouldn’t that mean he wasn’t actually qualified to teach? Unless he had started one of the academies early, on average, he should have been a fourth year at best.

"Forget it!" she mused, remembering the day she was called to the headmistress’ office, how she had specifically been told not to investigate Art. She was still curious why—since she had taken a liking to him—but orders were orders.

"About before..."

Treading on matters slightly embarrassing for her, she brought her hand to her lips and coughed in pretense.

"I’m sorry about what I did earlier."

An apology followed.

While she had not been in control back then, she still remembered almost forcing herself onto Art.

"I should be... no, it was that wit... I mean, it was an unforeseen event. You don’t have to apologize."

Keeping his disdain for witches in check, Art said it to reassure her. The one responsible was probably out there laughing at the predicament she had unleashed on him.

"Either way, I can’t believe I’ll have to miss the afterparty."

The Rank Games’ afterparty was the ceremony where the victor would be awarded the title of Ace.

Valaria, who had landed the finishing blow on him—a Gatekeeper—had automatically won because of the sheer value a Gatekeeper held in the games.

If a normal student was equivalent to one point, then a Gatekeeper was a thousand. No matter how much effort a student made, eliminating a thousand students singlehandedly would be impossible.

For instance, Trish would require ten separate Avalanche Stances just to achieve that goal. Her aura would be exhausted by the fifth, and by the seventh, she would no longer be able to continue.

Anyway, Valaria had successfully won. But unlike the game’s storyline, she hadn’t overcome her weakness. In essence, she had cheated by relying on powerful comrades. Art, however, gave her a pass this once since she had at least kept something constant.

"Now the academy attack is next."

With the end of the Rank Games, Art had successfully survived two arcs in this world. The first two weren’t particularly life-threatening—except for the unexpected assassin attack—but now his downtime was over. Everything going forward would carry real stakes.

It would be life and death until the Four Pillars Tournament, which should at least give him a brief breathing space.

"Villier is still not back... so it’s time I began to deal with him."

Looking out the window, he sighed, observing the massive structure of the academy in the distance.

"They must be having fun."

Stuck in this boring old hospital, Art sobbed.

"Be glad at least you’re not alone," Grim said, taking out a bar of chocolate she had brought from the hospital canteen. Breaking it into two, she passed Art half and took the other.

"Yeah... I guess this isn’t so bad," Art responded, stretching his hand to grab it.

Their fingers brushed against each other, and for a moment, they froze.

Grim’s mind raced back to the kiss, her face flushing red in embarrassment once again. There were some things that, no matter how much one tried, couldn’t be forgotten. Unfortunately for her, this memory of the kiss was still fresh—meaning it would live with her for a long while.

Art, on the other hand, froze not because of the physical contact, but because the stab wound he had inflicted upon himself to snap Grim out of her affectionate state suddenly spiked with pain.

Turns out, the thing about an increase in pain tolerance was a lie. He still felt it very much. The hot sensation of his throbbing wound gave him nothing but discomfort.

To avoid experiencing more of the pain, he tried staying motionless for some time. After his body adjusted, he kept his cool and grabbed hold of his half of the chocolate.

"This isn’t bad at all."

Taking a small bite out of it, he remarked, seemingly enjoying the precious time he was having with Grim.

There wasn’t much talking, but seeing Grim all flustered was a rare sight—one he engraved into his mind for future reference.

After a few seconds of observing her, Art turned his gaze back to the academy and tilted his head in confusion.

"Huh?"

At first, what he saw only made him blink.

It was a red star. At first, it hung in the sky like the countless others, but...

"Why is it floating above the..."

[Student fatality recorded]

An unprecedented pain ripped through his mind. But it wasn’t the pain that made him scream—no, that was barely even noticed. The notifications flashing across his thoughts were ignored entirely.

All he could see—all he could comprehend—was the red star.

It didn’t simply fall. It descended with the inevitability of judgment, carving across the heavens in a streak of crimson flame.

And then—

It struck the academy.

It fell upon his students.

It engulfed everything in a blinding, merciless red.

The world burned inside his eyes, searing into him an image that would never fade.