CHAPTER 11: ARCADE ACADEMY (1)

Chapter 11 – Arcade Academy(1)

The morning sun shone bright over Ironshade Town, its golden rays casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets. The train that carried Michael from the East Block screeched to a halt at the massive terminal overlooking Atlan City’s eastern district, a hub of magic-tech wonders.

Michael stepped off the train quietly, the familiar voice of the system still fresh in his ears after the turbulent encounter with the Drakran Sword. His body felt a little lighter now, as though the clash with the weapon’s will had refined his resolve. Yet his eyes carried a sharpness focused, unyielding.

"Arcade Academy..." he murmured under his breath as his gaze lifted toward the horizon.

There it stood—a colossal fortress of knowledge and power, towering over the heart of Atlan City. Its spires reached high into the clouds, each etched with glowing runes that pulsed in rhythm with the mana flow beneath the city. Enormous crystalline towers surrounded the main campus, acting as both a defensive barrier and a source of mana supply. At the center of it all was the Grand Clocktower, whose radiant hands ticked with pure mana light, marking the beginning of a new academic year.

For a moment, Michael stood in awe. Even though he had seen it countless times in his previous life the cutscenes, the character introductions, the academy trials—it was something else to see it now with his own eyes. Living, breathing, real.

---

The streets leading to the Academy gates were packed with people. Thousands of candidates had gathered from across Denmard and beyond—nobles in their family’s crest, commoners in simple tunics, foreign exchange candidates wearing exotic garments.

Michael slipped through the crowd, his hood drawn slightly over his head, preferring not to attract unnecessary attention. But even hidden within the masses, he could feel it: the atmosphere of ambition, rivalry, and fear.

"This is it," he thought. "The Academy Arc begins here."

Banners hung across the white stone gates of Arcade Academy, each representing one of the great families and guilds of Denmard. The Lionheart emblem of the roaring golden lion, the Stromfang crest of a lightning bolt, the Braveheart’s crimson shield, the William family’s blinding sun—symbols of power, wealth, and influence.

Michael’s eyes lingered on the William crest for a moment longer. Edric William... arrogant bastard. His family will make my path harder.

As he approached the gates, he began recognizing familiar faces those destined to be central figures in the game and the novel’s storyline.

As look towards the crowd to see the cast.

First was Leon Lionheart, standing tall even among the crowd. His sandy-golden hair caught the sunlight, and his steel-gray eyes radiated determination. His presence wasn’t overwhelming, but it carried an undeniable weight—the aura of a protagonist. Even dressed plainly, there was nobility in his bearing.

"He’s here... the SwordSaint," Michael thought. "Illegitimate son or not, he’s the one destined to carry the Lionheart name."

Not far from Leon stood Aiden Stromfang, laughing heartily as sparks of lightning crackled faintly around his arms. His crimson hair was wild, his expression full of energy and reckless confidence. He was already surrounded by a few candidates, loudly declaring he would crush every test.

"Exactly as I remember him," Michael muttered with a faint smirk. "Brash, but never backs down."

Then there was Selena Veylan, a striking figure among the crowd. Her long raven-black hair flowed down her back, her movements elegant and composed. Clad in light combat robes accented with silver, her dark amethyst eyes gave off the serene but chilling aura of a Reaper. Nobles bowed their heads slightly as she passed.

"The princess of Denmard herself... one of the most dangerous assets of this Academy," Michael thought.

Further ahead, he spotted Elara Moonshade, her emerald hair shimmering under the light, her delicate elven features captivating everyone around her. She was guarded by a pair of elven knights, but her curious gaze wandered across the Academy’s architecture like a child marveling at something new.

And then, in the middle of the stairs leading up to the gates—Aurelia Miller.

Her light blue hair danced in the wind, her expression calm but commanding. The daughter of Martin Miller looked every bit the noble heiress, already surrounded by a small cluster of noble-born candidates who treated her with reverence. Her clear crystal eyes swept across the crowd, pausing for a brief moment on Michael. Their gazes met for only an instant before she turned away with disinterest.

Michael sighed. "So much for avoiding her."

One by one, the supporting cast of the Academy Arc made their appearances. Lyra Braveheart, Chris Blackthorn, Maria Frostheart—all of them were here. The main story was assembling before his eyes.

Suddenly

The murmuring crowd suddenly went silent.

From atop the grand staircase, a man cloaked in crimson robes appeared, his very presence suffocating. His long silver hair framed a stern face, and his piercing scarlet eyes scanned the sea of candidates with chilling precision.

Herald Crimson. Principal of Arcade Academy.

His voice thundered across the plaza, amplified by mana.

"Welcome, candidates, to Arcade Academy. Today, you stand before the gates of destiny. But remember this—" His gaze sharpened, and the air itself seemed to thrum under his authority. "— not all of you are worthy to step inside."

Michael felt his knees weaken slightly as the Principal’s presence grew heavier. It wasn’t killing intent, but pure spiritual pressure from the principal as direct assault on our willpower.

"This... this is it. The Endurance Trial," Michael realized, gritting his teeth.

Herald Crimson raised his hand. A crimson aura expanded outward, engulfing the entire plaza.

"Endure, or be crushed. Only the strong may take their first step!"

The pressure slammed down like a mountain.

Candidates cried out, some collapsing instantly as their faces struck the stone. F and G ranks were flattened within seconds, unconscious or trembling violently. Even E– ranks shook as though their bones would snap under the force.

Michael bent his knees slightly, trying to ground himself. His vision blurred, his heartbeat thundered, and sweat trickled down his forehead.

Stay calm. You know this trial. Hold on.

Around him, the chaos unfolded.

Leon Lionheart gritted his teeth, his sword calluses glowing faintly as he steadied himself. His body trembled but refused to bow.

Aiden Stromfang roared defiantly, lightning sparking violently across his skin as he fought back against the weight.

Selena Veylan stood poised, her expression unshaken, though Michael noticed her clenched fists beneath her sleeves.

Aurelia Miller’s body swayed, her blue hair whipping in the invisible storm, but her eyes remained calm and cold.

Michael’s body screamed at him to kneel. His muscles burned, his mana core trembled under the crushing force.

I can’t draw too much attention... but I can’t fall either.

He activated Mana Manipulation, channeling his reserves evenly across his body to distribute the strain. It was subtle as most wouldn’t even notice it but it stabilized his stance.

Minutes passed. Candidates dropped one after another. From thousands, only a few hundred remained standing.

Michael’s vision darkened at the edges, but he clenched his jaw, forcing himself to endure.

"This... is nothing," he whispered, though blood ran from his lip.

Finally, Herald Crimson raised his hand, and the crushing aura dissipated like mist. Gasps and cries of relief spread across the survivors.

The Principal’s gaze swept over them with measured approval. "Good. You may enter. The rest... are dismissed."

---

The crushing weight of Herald Crimson’s spiritual pressure faded like a dissipating storm. For a long moment, silence reigned over the plaza, broken only by the ragged gasps of candidates who had survived. The ground was littered with the unconscious students, dozens of bodies sprawled out, eyes rolled back, mouths foaming. Attendants from the Academy moved swiftly, lifting the fallen with practiced efficiency.

Michael remained on one knee, chest heaving, his hands trembling against the stone tiles. His vision swam, but he forced his breathing into rhythm. Steady... stay calm. Don’t let anyone see weakness.

Around him, the survivors were few compared to the sea of candidates that had initially gathered. From thousands, only a few hundred remained standing. The difference was stark as a visible line had been drawn between the ambitious and the capable.

Leon Lionheart stood in the front row, his jaw tight but eyes blazing with determination. Even though his clothes clung with sweat, his back remained straight, the image of a steadfast warrior. Not far from him, Aiden Stromfang laughed breathlessly, sparks still dancing across his fingertips. "Hah! Is that all? I was just warming up!" he barked, though his knees betrayed the slightest quiver.

Selena Veylan brushed a strand of dark hair from her face, her expression composed, though Michael noticed her pale knuckles where her fists had clenched beneath her sleeves. She had endured without a sound just like a shadow that refused to be shaken.

Aurelia Miller was different. She had endured too, her posture elegant even under pressure, but her gaze had shifted. She wasn’t merely proud anymore as her sharp blue eyes flickered with... curiosity. For the briefest instant, as Michael straightened, he caught her looking at him. Noticing that he had withstood the Principal’s aura, someone she clearly believed was beneath her.

Their eyes met.

Michael immediately broke the contact, pretending to wipe blood from the corner of his mouth. Great. Just what I needed. Now she’s interested. She’ll be watching me more closely from now on.

Then I leaned back and took a deep breath.

These were characters I guided, fought beside, died for — or with — again and again.

Every name in this room once lived in my screen — lines of code and story flags. And now they’re here. Breathing, moving, real.

He could feel the pulse in his neck, the buzz in his fingertips. Like stepping into a myth you memorized, only to discover it breathing beside you.

He wanted to speak to them. To shake their hands. To scream, "I know you!"

But instead, he buried that excitement deep inside and forced a casual yawn.

This is too much. I’m one badly timed word away from combusting.

"Calm Down , Calm Down"

The Principal’s crimson cloak swayed as he looked down upon them all. His gaze was like a blade, cutting through each survivor, weighing them as though he could see straight into their souls.

"Good," Herald Crimson said at last, his voice heavy with approval. "Those who remain standing... are worthy to take their first step into Arcade Academy."

The words carried like a decree. Relief swept through the survivors. Some cheered weakly, others collapsed outright in tears of exhaustion. But Michael only clenched his fist tightly, forcing himself to stand upright.

First step taken. But this is only the beginning.

From the edges of the plaza, faculty members emerged black robed instructors, knights in silver armor, and mages carrying mana-scrolls. They moved with practiced efficiency, separating the unconscious from the survivors, dividing the candidates into neat lines.

---

Michael takes his first step into Arcade Academy. Ahead lies the Written Exam—and the clash of intellects, where his knowledge of the game will give him an unexpected edge.

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