CHAPTER 12: ARCADE ACADEMY (2)

Chapter 12: Arcade Academy (2)

As the gates closed behind them, the survivors were ushered into a vast marble courtyard. The air was fresher inside, imbued with faint mana that cleared the fog from weary minds. The sound of fountains and birdsong contrasted sharply with the crushing silence that had filled the plaza minutes ago.

For a moment, the survivors were simply... still. Many slumped onto benches lining the courtyard, drinking from mana-water fountains that seemed to refill endlessly. Others leaned against walls, too proud to show weakness but too shaken to stand tall.

And then, inevitably, the whispers began.

"Did you see him? The boy with the lion insignia. He stood like it was nothing."

"That must be Leon Lionheart... but isn’t he illegitimate?"

"Illegitimate or not, he’s still a Lionheart. Blood like that isn’t so easily dismissed."

Michael’s gaze flickered toward Leon, who bore the whispers with a calm, resolute face. He neither acknowledged them nor denied them.

Another cluster of whispers rose.

"What about Aurelia Miller? Did you see her composure?"

"Of course. She’s the daughter of Martin Miller. No surprise she’s flawless."

"She didn’t even flinch... unlike the rest of us."

Aurelia allowed the whispers to flow around her like the tide, her expression unreadable. But Michael noticed the faint upward tilt of her chin, she was aware, and she welcomed their awe.

Then, unexpectedly, another thread of gossip emerged.

"...but who was that boy in the middle ranks?"

"The one with white hair and blue eye who stayed standing at the end?"

"Yeah. I swear I saw him trembling, but he didn’t fall. And when the pressure lifted, he stood up like nothing happened."

"I’ve never seen him before. Is he a noble?"

"Doubt it. Probably a commoner."

Michael didn’t react outwardly, but inside, he tightened his grip. So they noticed after all. I thought I’d blended in well enough...

He wasn’t drawing as much attention as Leon or Aurelia, but a seed had been planted. People had noticed his endurance. And in an academy where perception mattered almost as much as strength, that seed could grow into opportunity or suspicion.

---

Clusters of noble-born candidates naturally gravitated toward one another, forming circles of hushed voices. Michael heard snatches of conversation as he passed.

Some nobles sneered at the unconscious commoners being carried away.

Others whispered about which families had sent heirs this year.

A few were already speculating on alliances whose children would lead, and whose would follow.

Michael caught sight of Edric William, the smug third son of the country’s top family. Even in exhaustion, he carried himself with arrogance, barking at attendants as though they were servants. Beside him, his lackey Ren Bellon laughed too loudly at every word, hoping to curry favor.

Michael looked away quickly. Those two will become trouble. Just like in the game.

---

Finding an empty corner of the courtyard, Michael leaned against a stone pillar. He kept his head slightly bowed, forcing his breathing into calm rhythm. From here, he could observe without being noticed too much.

Around him, destinies were beginning to intertwine. Leon, Aiden, Selena, Aurelia, Lyra, Maria, Chris—all future key figures of the Academy Arc. They were drawing eyes, shaping impressions, becoming the center of gravity in this gathering.

And Michael... was the anomaly.

I wasn’t supposed to be here. In the game, this moment belonged to them. But now I’ve stepped into their world, changed the flow. Even small choices ripple outward. If I play this wrong, the story could collapse or worse, turn against me.

He flexed his hand, feeling the faint thrum of the sealed Drakran Sword in his storage.

That’s why I need to be careful. Blend when I must, strike when the time is right. No unnecessary trouble... but no wasted opportunities either. I will not just survive here. I will carve my place among them.

--l

A loud clap echoed across the courtyard.

Vice Principal Sophia Emberheart had stepped onto the raised dais. She was tall and elegant, her long crimson hair flowing behind her like a banner. Her voice was sharp, cutting through the murmurs at once.

"Survivors of the Endurance Trial," she said. "You have proven your willpower and spirit. But endurance alone does not make a student of Arcade Academy. The next stage will measure your intellect your ability to think, strategize, and apply knowledge under pressure."

Murmurs rippled. Some looked nervous, others relieved.

Michael straightened, recalling the outline of the entrance exams from his past life knowledge. The written exam comes next... strategy, tactics, monster ecology, battlefield judgment. Not too difficult... but dangerous if underestimated. Nobles will rely on their tutors. Commoners will struggle. I’ll need to score high enough to stand out but not so high that I draw too much suspicion.

Sophia’s gaze swept the crowd. "You will have one hour to complete the written assessment. Follow the instructors to the examination hall."

The courtyard stirred to life once again, candidates lining up as attendants directed them.

Michael pushed himself off the pillar, slipping into the flow of survivors. His heart beat steadily fast but not with fear, but with anticipation.

The first step had been survival.

The second... would be to prove his mind.

---

The marble courtyard emptied slowly, footsteps echoing against the ancient stone walls as the candidates were herded deeper into the academy complex. Michael followed quietly in the middle ranks, head tilted slightly down so he wouldn’t stand out. Still, his eyes scanned everything: the carved spires, the flowing mana-lamps lining the halls, the faint hum of enchantments etched into the very architecture.

Arcade Academy wasn’t merely a school it was a fortress of knowledge, a citadel of power. Even now, stepping inside, Michael felt the weight of history pressing in on him.

In the game, this was always portrayed as a cutscene. A text box describing the grand academy halls. But standing here... it’s alive. The air tastes of mana. The walls whisper with runes. And I’m not just a player watching—I’m walking the path myself.

The candidates were led into a grand hall with high ceilings supported by white pillars. Rows of desks were laid out across the floor, each neatly separated from the others by glowing mana partitions to prevent cheating. On the far side stood a team of instructors, each holding thick stacks of examination scrolls.

"Take your seats," one instructor barked.

The crowd dispersed quickly. Michael chose a desk near the middle, not too far forward, not too far back. Visibility matters. If I sit at the front, I draw too much attention. At the back, I look suspicious. Middle is safe.

As he sat down, he glanced around.

Leon Lionheart sat near the front, posture straight, eyes calm, like a soldier awaiting orders. Aurelia Miller, of course, was on the left wing, her expression poised and indifferent. Aiden Stromfang was restless even in his seat, tapping his fingers impatiently against the desk as if he wanted to fight rather than write. Selena Veylan, the princess of Denmard, sat with perfect composure, quill poised already in her hand though the exam hadn’t even begun.

Michael caught himself scanning them like a gamer checking the party screen. The main cast. All gathered, each in their rightful position. And me... the ghost who shouldn’t exist here.

The head instructor, Professor Adam Beckett, stepped forward. A short man with a sharp goatee and hawk-like eyes, he exuded the aura of strictness. With a flick of his hand, stacks of exam scrolls floated into the air, carried by mana currents.

"Written Trial begins now," he announced. "One hour. No communication. No external aids. The scrolls will record your answers in real time. Cheating will result in immediate disqualification."

The scrolls landed neatly on each desk, along with a quill that glowed faintly with enchantment. Michael unrolled his, scanning the first set of questions.

---

[Written Exam Questions]

1. Describe the primary weaknesses of a Lesser Wyvern, and propose three tactical methods of exploiting them.

2. When facing a group of goblins with a shaman leader, which target should be prioritized first? Explain your reasoning.

3. The proper rune sequence to stabilize a Class-E mana core during overload is: ?

4. In a party of five, what is the most effective formation when engaging an armored troll in confined terrain?

5. Bonus Question: Hypothetical scenario—You are tasked to defend a village from a beast tide of 200 monsters, but reinforcements will not arrive for three hours. Outline your defensive strategy.

---

Michael felt his lips twitch. Exactly as I remember. They didn’t change a thing.

For most candidates, these were crushing. Nobles might breeze through the theoretical runes and monster studies thanks to private tutors, while commoners would flounder. The bonus scenario was meant to separate the extraordinary from the competent.

But for Michael... it was déjà vu. He had studied these very answers once, years ago, when the game threw these trials as "knowledge checks" to test the player’s preparation. He remembered the optimal strategies, the "developer-approved" answers, the hidden scoring system that awarded more points for tactical creativity.

The challenge isn’t answering. The challenge is how much to reveal. Too high, and I’ll shine unnaturally bright. Too low, and I’ll look incompetent. I need to hit the sweet spot—competent enough to stand out from the common rabble, but not enough to overshadow the main cast.

His quill began to move.

For the wyvern weakness, he detailed the soft underbelly, sensitivity of the wings, and poor maneuverability in confined airspace. He proposed tactics involving shield lines, baiting dives, and grounding strikes as efficient, but not overly advanced.

For the goblin shaman scenario, he wrote swiftly: Always neutralize the shaman first to disrupt magical coordination, then collapse the goblin formation. Straightforward, expected.

The rune stabilization? He wrote the exact sequence: Solven—Atrix—Dorma. The bare minimum to get full credit, without adding the more obscure sequences he knew.

The troll formation? He outlined the standard triangular spearhead tank front, flanks for DPS, healer rear. Clean, effective, but nothing revolutionary.

And then... the bonus question.

This is where the smart ones will either rise or fall. A defensive scenario against impossible odds.

He considered the "game solution." It had always been to construct barriers, funnel the tide into choke points, set traps, buy time. But in the game, creativity earned extra narrative rewards.

What if I... add a layer? Something believable, but clever enough to show I think beyond basics.

He wrote:

"To defend a village from 200 monsters, immediate evacuation of non-combatants is essential. Utilize natural terrain to funnel enemies into choke points. Establish layered barricades at streets, reinforced by fire traps. Assign ranged units to rooftops for overhead cover. If mana-users are present, prepare rotational spell-casting to maximize endurance. Importantly, morale must be preserved strategic retreats to secondary barricades will delay enemy advance without shattering formation. Time is the weapon; survival until reinforcements arrive is the victory condition."

He stopped there, quill hovering. He could have added an advanced contingency: using sacrificial bait squads, or creating mana resonance explosives. But that would scream too much foreknowledge. So instead, he left it at a level where a "bright commoner" could reasonably have thought it through.

---

The Hall’s

The scratching of quills filled the hall. Some candidates sweated profusely, others chewed on their lips. Michael’s eyes flicked occasionally to the others.

Leon wrote calmly, unhurried. Aiden looked frustrated, chewing the end of his quill before scribbling something sloppy. Aurelia, elegant as ever, moved with precise strokes, her handwriting immaculate. Selena’s face was composed, but her pace suggested thorough detail—royal training in strategy.

Michael allowed himself a faint smile. The cast is performing just as expected.

After what felt like moments, Professor Beckett’s voice cut through the silence.

"Time. Scrolls down."

The scrolls rolled themselves up and floated into the air, drifting toward the instructors. A wave of tension released across the hall as students exhaled, some collapsing in relief, others frowning, knowing they had failed.

---

As the candidates exited into the sunlight, chatter resumed. Some bragged about their answers, others groaned about the rune sequence question.

Michael overheard snippets.

"I blanked on the wyvern one..."

"The troll formation—I knew it was wrong halfway through..."

"That bonus scenario was brutal. Who thinks of defending a village against 200 monsters?"

And then, faintly—his name again.

"...the black-haired boy in the middle... he finished quickly, didn’t he?"

"Yeah, he didn’t look panicked at all."

"Strange. He doesn’t seem like a noble, but..."

Michael exhaled through his nose, deliberately not reacting. Good. Noticed, but not spotlighted. Exactly where I want to be.

Sophia Emberheart appeared once more, her crimson presence silencing the courtyard.

"You have proven both your endurance and your knowledge," she declared. "But strength of will and mind must be matched by strength of body. The next stage—the Combat Trial—will separate pretenders from true candidates. Prepare yourselves."

A ripple of anticipation spread. This was the test many had been waiting for.

Michael clenched his fist slightly. Combat. This is where I can finally show enough skill to secure my place. Swordsmanship, magic, tactics... I’ll have to play this one carefully. Not too weak, not too strong.

But inside, another voice whispered.

And maybe... just maybe... I’ll finally get to cut loose.

---