CHAPTER 49: SHOPPING

Chapter 49: Shopping

Harry nodded vigorously, chalk dust scattering with each movement. "And yet! What do people use today? Mana crystals. Circuits. Lazy enchantments. Bah!"

He slapped the board with the palm of his hand.

"Technology may be convenient, but it is hollow. Strip away their gadgets, their refined mana stones, and they are nothing. While true rune sequences... endure."

He sketched rapidly now:

A spiral with jagged edges "Detection, traps, wards."

A mirrored crescent "Barriers, both physical and spiritual."

A cross split diagonally "Banishing rune. Effective against corrupted beasts, specters, and yes, demons."

Each symbol pulsed faintly as he explained, proof that even simple chalk could channel mana when the strokes were precise.

"The ancients wove these into massive sequences,"

Harry continued, his voice softer now, reverent.

"A line of runes carved across a canyon could summon storms. A circle buried beneath a city could keep it hidden for centuries. Dungeons themselves are nothing but self-sustaining rune networks left behind by... who knows?"

Michael’s gaze sharpened. Dungeons... and demons. Their summoning rituals also rely on rune circles.

Harry spun back to the students, eyes wild. "And yet, this class is nearly empty! Rune Exploration is dismissed as ’useless trivia.’ But when the day comes and it will come when creatures rise that laugh at your spells and smash your swords, remember this: runes never fail. They only wait for those who still believe in their language."

The room went quiet. For the first time, the eccentric instructor’s words carried undeniable weight.

Michael exhaled slowly, a cold realization settling in his chest. ...He’s right. If demons break into this world, rune knowledge might be the only counter. This forgotten magic... could decide life or death.

Harry suddenly clapped his hands together, breaking the heavy silence. "Now then! Who wants to volunteer to draw their first rune? No? Ah, then our Rank 1 champion will do!"

Every head turned toward Michael.

He blinked once, then stood calmly.

"...Fine."

Harry’s grin stretched ear to ear. "Excellent! Behold, my disciples! History will remember this day—when Rune Exploration found its savior!"

Michael ignored the theatrics, his eyes fixed on the glowing parchment placed before him. A small part of him felt annoyed... but another part couldn’t shake the thought:

This really might save me... and everyone else.

-----

Michael’s hand moved with practiced calm, tracing each line with precision.

The chalk glowed faintly blue against the rune parchment, forming a perfect Seil rune. The glow stabilized

No flicker, no distortion.

The classroom went silent.

"...He really did it."

One of the students whispered.

Another added,

"Even Professor Harry usually messes up the first stroke..."

The rune pulsed once, then settled into a steady, low hum. The air itself felt heavier, as though the symbol commanded it.

Harry froze for two full seconds. His eyes bulged. Then—

"HE DID IT!"

He leapt so violently his chair toppled over.

"Do you brats understand what this means? My class finally has a genius!"

The poor chalk snapped in his hand as he spun toward Michael, arms wide as if welcoming a long-lost son.

"Michael Willson! From this day forward—you are the torchbearer of ancient glory! The chosen rune child! My magnum opus! My prodigy—"

Michael, still holding the chalk, replied flatly

"...I just copied what you drew."

Harry staggered back as if stabbed, clutching his chest.

"Copied, he says! Copied! That was flawless rune etching! Do you think ancient runemasters called their divine inscriptions ’copying’?"

Michael stared at him in silence.

"...Yes."

The class burst into muffled laughter.

Harry ignored them, rushing to the board. He erased the glowing rune and thrust a new parchment into Michael’s hands. "Quickly! Do Vorin! No better, try a full three-symbol cycle: Vorin-Seil-Fyre!"

Michael sighed, glancing at the clock. "Class is already over."

The enchanted bell rang at that exact moment.

Ding-dong.

Students immediately stood, gathering their things. Harry whipped around, horrified.

"Wait! You cowards! Rune salvation is within your grasp and you run away to lunch?!"

Michael calmly placed the chalk down and walked toward the door.

"Michael!" Harry lunged dramatically, hands outstretched as though reaching for his departing disciple. "Don’t abandon me! With you, I can finally prove the glory of runes to this accursed academy!"

Michael paused at the door, half-turning, his expression cool.

"...Send the schedule to my ID."

Then he walked out.

Harry froze, then his eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

"He said yes... He said yes...!" He collapsed to his knees, muttering like a zealot. "At last! A student who understands me!"

The other students sidestepped him awkwardly on their way out.

---

Michael stepped into the corridor, the faint glow of runes still etched in his memory. His footsteps echoed quietly as he slipped the Smart Watch ID back onto his wrist.

Rune barriers... traps... anti-necromancer seals. I’ll need every tool I can get before the Freshers’ Ball.

For the first time that day, he felt something stir beneath his calm exterior. Not fear. Not panic.

Hope.

But it was fleeting. He knew what the Ball would bring. And no rune, no barrier, could guarantee survival unless he used them perfectly.

With that thought, he headed down toward the Supreme Hall Gate to meet Maria.

------

The marble streets of the Royal Luxury Plaza glittered under enchanted lamplight, though it was still day. Each storefront shimmered with magical glass displays, showing mannequins draped in gowns of silk that flowed like liquid, and suits woven with threads that gleamed faintly with enchantment.

For most first-years, this plaza was a dream they wouldn’t dare step into. Everything here cost more than a year’s tuition. But for Michael, with his swollen Academy point balance, it was simply... another necessity.

He walked with steady steps, though inwardly he couldn’t help but feel awkward. I really don’t belong here. Not in this story. Not next to her.

Because walking beside him was Maria Frostheart.

Silver hair cascaded like a waterfall down her back, catching every ray of light. Her noble posture was flawless even in simple academy attire, she exuded elegance that made onlookers step aside instinctively.

Michael kept his gaze forward, deliberately calm.

Maria, however, tilted her head slightly, observing him from the corner of her eye. His expression was composed, almost too composed.

"...You look stiff," she finally said.

Michael blinked, then glanced at her. "I’m not stiff."

"You’re walking like the floor is made of eggshells."

"...It’s marble."

She suppressed a laugh, her lips curving into a faint smile. He’s different... she thought. Most boys would stumble over their words around her, or attempt to flaunt. But Michael acted like none of it mattered. Either he was incredibly confident, or incredibly dense.

---

The moment they stepped in, attendants hurried forward, their eyes lighting up when Michael flashed his Academy ID.

"Ah! Rank 1 of the first-years! Please, this way, honored sir, honored lady!"

Maria raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes at the sudden red-carpet treatment.

Michael sighed inwardly. Rank 1 this, Rank 1 that. I swear if they tattoo that on my forehead, I won’t even be surprised.

The attendants whisked them into a private room lined with mirrors enchanted to show multiple angles at once. Racks of suits and gowns slid into place as if summoned by magic.

"Shall we begin with something formal, sir?" one attendant asked eagerly.

Michael nodded reluctantly.

---

The first suit was too tight, hugging his arms until he could barely lift them.

"...You look like a knight who lost a battle with his armor," Maria remarked dryly.

Michael scowled. "Not my fault they stitched this for a scarecrow."

The next was the opposite—ridiculously flashy, embroidered with golden dragons coiling across the chest.

Maria actually covered her mouth, shoulders trembling as she tried not to laugh.

"...What? Is this supposed to be intimidating or festive?" Michael muttered, glaring at his reflection. "I look like a firework that got rejected by a parade."

"You’d certainly be... noticed," Maria managed, smirking.

"Exactly what I don’t want."

Then came the worst: a silken suit with feathered cuffs.

Michael stepped out slowly, deadpan. "...Kill me."

Maria broke. A soft, melodic laugh spilled from her lips, filling the room like chimes in the wind. Even the attendants blinked in surprise—no one had seen the ice-cold Frostheart laughing so openly.

Michael froze, staring for a moment. He hadn’t expected her to... look so alive when she laughed.

He quickly turned away, scratching his cheek. "...Glad I could be your comedy act."

Maria shook her head, still smiling faintly. "You’re surprisingly... tolerable, Willson."

The attendants, sensing an opportunity, brought gowns for Maria.

Michael sat back, arms crossed, determined not to react.

But when she stepped out in a silver-blue gown, flowing like moonlight over water, his composure nearly cracked. The dress shimmered subtly with enchantments that mirrored her natural elegance.

"...Well?" Maria asked, tilting her head slightly.

Michael forced himself to keep a straight face. "...It suits you."

"Just suits me?"

"...What else am I supposed to say?"

Her lips curved into a sly smile. "Most would say stunning or goddess-like. But you... just suits you?"

Michael coughed, looking away. "I’m not ’most.’"

Her smirk widened. Interesting. Very interesting.

As the attendants compared colors, Maria suddenly asked casually:

"So... do you have anyone else in mind to attend the Ball with?"

Michael stiffened slightly. He fumbled with a tie in his hands, nearly dropping it. "...Not really."

Maria’s eyes gleamed. "Really? No one?"

"...I’ve been... busy."

She leaned slightly closer, her voice soft but teasing. "So... nobody asked you, then?"

Michael froze, ears heating. "...That’s not... entirely true."

Her smirk returned, graceful as ever. "Mhm."

Inside, she was amused. So the great Rank 1 isn’t invincible after all. He’s human. Awkward. Refreshingly so.

In the end, they settled on a sleek, dark obsidian suit for Michael minimalist but sharp, with faint silver accents that subtly matched Maria’s silver-blue gown.

As Michael handed over his Smart Watch ID, the holographic balance projection shimmered.

[Current Balance: 978,201 Academy Points]

The attendants gasped audibly. One nearly dropped the receipt.

Maria, however, only raised a brow. So... he really is swimming in resources. Rank 1, aura mastery, and now this... Just what are you hiding, Michael Willson?

They stepped out of the boutique side by side, their chosen outfits neatly packaged in enchanted cases.

The marble avenue reflected the warm glow of enchanted lamps as evening settled.

Maria glanced sideways, her expression calm but her eyes carrying something sharper.

"The Ball will be... interesting," she said softly, almost to herself.

Michael gave a noncommittal hum, but inside, his thoughts churned.

Interesting? No. It’ll be deadly. And I’ll have to make sure you survive it, Maria Frostheart.

The two walked on, the crowd parting naturally around them two figures who looked as though fate had already marked them.

---

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Author Message: Now I having an headache, someone give review to work 1 star. I know my writing is bad , as I am not a Webnovel writer but I am good Webnovel Reader.

If reader are not liking my work as I imagined , so I asked help from everyone , Can anyone of you can edit my Chapteres, See I don’t have money I just like you struggling to do something, if you are expecting to gain some things is that I can mention credit to you on my Chapters.

May be Should Drop writing it ! what is your guys view?