“What did you just say?!” Professor Halvern becomes red like a tomato. “You dare call me a scammer?! On what basis?!”

  “You’re just stealing Mana loops from students and recompiling them thanks to your Skill. Your Skill is not meant to make people improve—you use it to create a carbon copy of what every student is doing. Thanks to that, you can compile a list of flaws and sell it.”

  I turn toward the students and I say, “have you noticed how he examines low-leveled Skills with his Skill?”

  “He’s lost his mind!”

  “He just called Professor Halvern a scammer!”

  “Who even dares talk to a Professor like that?”

  “He must think being a Champion makes him untouchable!”

  “Fake Champion fits him perfectly!”

  “Yeah, that’s right! Coming here after skipping every class and accusing the Professor who’s helped hundreds of students? Shameless!”

  I raise my voice just enough to cut through the rising noise.

  “You think I’m lying? Then explain this.”

  I point straight at Professor Halvern’s hovering Map of the Stars, the swirling constellation of glowing sigils still faintly visible in the air behind him.

  “Map of Stars isn’t helping you the way you think you are. It’s a True Diamond Skill that analyzes a Skill and deciphers, based on other Skills, which Vein path is the most convenient. It records the exact mana circulation of whoever touches it for a given Skill. Everything you show him, you feed his Skill—it stores it. That’s why he only picks students with Skills already above level seventy. Because he needs your progress to feed his collection. And it only works below Diamond Rank. Platinum and Gold, then. I bet the Professor would love, however, to upgrade the Skill and steal from even more advanced students.”

  “He’s insane!”

  “Calling a Professor a thief?!”

  “Fake Champion really lost it this time!”

  “He’s just jealous that Professor Halvern’s Map of the Stars actually works!”

  “He’s trying to drag the Professor down with him!”

  “What a disgrace—he skipped class all semester and now he wants attention!”

  Still, there’s hesitation mixed in. I can hear it—the few who actually think while they talk.

  “…but did you hear how specific he was?”

  “Yeah… how would he know it records mana circulation like that?”

  “He said it only works below Diamond Rank. Why hasn’t Professor Halvern ever added a course for Diamond Rankers? Do we actually have an explanation?”

  “Wait, didn’t the Professor always pick students around seventy or eighty? He never takes low levels…”

  “That’s true. Even my cousin in Runic Notation 202 said he refused to help her because her skill was ‘too green.’ Why would that matter unless—”

  “Shut up! You’re falling for his bluff!”

  I can see Professor Halvern’s smile strain at the edges as the first hairline crack of uncertainty spreads through his beloved audience.

  Princess Naar’ethra’s eyes sharpen with interest. She’s already won what she wanted—a chance to get close to Zibrek—but now she’s leaning forward, studying me as if she’s found something even more entertaining.

  “Jacob Cloud, Guide of the Champions,” she says, drawing out each word with slow amusement. “I’ve heard of you. Tell me, then—how do you claim such certainty? Do you know the Skill the Professor is using?”

  “As I’ve said,” I reply evenly, “it’s called Map of the Stars. A True Diamond Rank Skill. Quite powerful, too.”

  And it could have been used for good.

  Her brows lift. “But how do you know that’s what the Professor is using? Do you even realize what kind of accusation you’re making?”

  “Oh, I do,” I say, turning toward a bristling Professor Halvern. “And the reason I know is simple: with all due respect, I know Runic Notation better than Professor Halvern does. At least up to Platinum Rank.” I let the words hang, watching his jaw tighten. “As for Diamond Rank—well, I wouldn’t know. He’s never bothered teaching it. After all, why teach something that doesn’t make him any profit?”

  Professor Halvern’s face turns the color of molten iron.

  “Preposterous!” he bellows, slamming his palm on the desk so hard that the inkwell rattles. “You accuse me—me—of deceit, in front of my own students? Do you have any idea who you’re talking to, boy?”

  The class erupts at once, feeding off his fury.

  “He’s finished!”

  “Expel him already!”

  “Calling a Professor a liar? He’s gone mad!”

  “Fake Champion really lives up to his title!”

  “Professor Halvern should make an example of him!”

  Professor Halvern raises his hand, reveling in the noise.

  “Silence!” he shouts, though the smugness in his tone cuts through his rage. “I’ve had enough of this circus. I’ll be speaking to the Dean of Admissions myself. You’ll be expelled, Jacob Cloud. No student—Champion or not—spits on my reputation and walks away unscathed. You’re done here!”

  The room hums with satisfaction. Dozens of expectant eyes wait for me to flinch, to back down, to start begging for mercy.

  Instead, I lean against the desk, folding my arms. “Alright,” I say after the murmurs die. “If I’m such a fraud, then prove it. Give me the hardest test you’ve got—something even you would struggle with.”

  The silence that follows drips like oil through the air.

  I let the tension stretch before adding, flatly, “I’ll entertain you—for now.”

  Professor Halvern exhales through his nose, long and theatrical, then straightens his robe and forces a measured calm back into his voice.

  “Very well,” he says, pacing to his desk. “If it’s a test you want, it’s a test you’ll have.” He reaches into his drawer and pulls out a roll of parchment bound with a silver clasp. The moment he unrolls it, the faint glimmer of embedded mana ripples across the ink—lines too intricate for most eyes to even follow.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “This,” he declares, holding it up for the class to see, “is my personal Runic Notation for Advanced Mana Pool. A Platinum framework refined over twenty years of research. You could raise the Skill to level ninety-five using this notation alone.” His eyes gleam with pride, with venom. “It is, quite literally, one of my most prized creations.”

  He sets it on the desk in front of me, his voice dipping lower, smoother, like the hiss of a blade leaving its sheath.

  “But if I must use it to teach you a lesson before you get expelled, Mister Cloud, I’ll gladly pay that price. Consider this my farewell gift.”

  A collective murmur spreads through the classroom.

  “His Mana Pool notation? That’s legendary.”

  “I’ve heard from my own Tutors they paid to learn that from Professor Halvern!”

  “He’s serious. Jacob’s done for.”

  “So,” I say, arching an eyebrow at the gleaming web of runes. “All you want me to do is find what completes this Runic Notation?”

  Professor Halvern chuckles, low and dismissive. “Yes, yes, exactly. I’d love to see you try, Jacob Cloud.” He crosses his arms and leans back, the picture of smug superiority. “Since you seem so convinced of your own brilliance, I’ll even be generous enough to grant you time. Ten minutes. Should be more than enough for the Guide of the Champions to make a fool of himself.”

  A ripple of laughter runs through the class.

  “He’s dead, ten minutes? That’s insane!”

  “It takes me longer just to read through such a complex Runic Notation!”

  “He wouldn’t be able to wipe his own ass in ten minutes.”

  I turn toward the class, trying to spot who said the last thing but no one stands out.

  Who keeps saying this stuff!?

  I rest my hands on the desk, eyes fixed on the parchment.

  I raise an eyebrow.

  Professor Halvern taps his foot. “Well? Lost your confidence already?”

  “No, I just thought it’d be harder. I didn’t expect it to be this easy.”

  “What?” Professor Halvern frows. “What are you talking about.”

  I expected to need the Grimoire for this. But this…

  “Professor Halvern, your Runic Notation is very refined, it looks like a carbon copy of what you get from the Map of the Stars Skill. In fact, I suspect your own knowledge of Runic Notation has been greatly influenced by the Skill.”

  “What is he saying?”

  “Why is he acting so smug?”

  “Meh, it all sounds like gibberish to me!”

  “He does have good hair though.”

  A few people turn around but no one spots the oddball who keeps making these out-of-place comments.

  “This is already perfect.”

  Professor Halvern’s voice cracks like a whip. “What are you saying, Cloud?! I told you—you can raise a Skill to level ninety-five with this! Are you calling me a liar? Would you like me to fetch another Skill’s Runic Notation?!”

  “I’m not calling you a liar,” I say calmly. “Just a fraud. And yes—this is definitely not good enough to reach level one-hundred. What I’m saying is that you…” I tap the page, “…just made a rookie mistake.”

  “What?!” Professor Halvern’s aura erupts, his robe snapping in the sudden current of mana.

  “Oh, he’s dead now!”

  “He’s really pushing it!”

  “I bet Professor Halvern’s going to beat him blue!”

  “He can’t, sadly,” the same voice calls out again from somewhere in the back. “Professor Halvern’s bound by an Academy Oath. If he so much as scratches Jacob Cloud, the Headmaster will peel him alive before sunset.”

  That shuts the Professor up. His aura flickers, then collapses inward like a flame strangled by its own smoke.

  Who the hell keeps saying these things?

  “What I’m saying,” I continue, pretending not to notice his twitching eye, “is that you’ve made a simple mistake right here.”

  I point to a cluster of runes in the lower loop of the notation. “See this sequence? You’re ignoring the Nether Veins. There are eight pairs—small, subtle, but critical. Without completing the loop through them, the mana flow fractures. It’s why your so-called perfect circuit stalls before level one-hundred. The Skill can’t breathe.”

  I grab a quill, scratch a few quick strokes beside the runes, and sketch the missing pathways. Each line glows faintly as the mana responds, the entire diagram shifting in tone.

  Professor Halvern’s eyes bulge; his mouth opens but no sound comes out. The classroom explodes.

  “He changed the flow!”

  “Did you see that? The runes just stabilized!”

  “No way… That’s not possible!”

  “He just corrected the Professor’s signature notation!”

  “Can we get a copy of that?! I’d pay a fortune!”

  Before anyone can shout again, the door blasts inward with a thunderous crack—splinters flying like shrapnel.

  Elder Karl steps through the smoke, his staff in hand and his expression one of abject fury.

  “You,” Elder Karl trembles in fury, pointing a finger at Professor Halvern. “I was just outside, listening to this.”

  “Elder, why are you—”

  “Silence!” Elder Karl’s roar shakes the walls. His cane slams against the floor, making the mana in the room crackle. “Is this why you begged me to show you the inner workings of my Skills? I thought you wanted to help me refine them—you damn thief!”

  Gasps ripple through the class. Students leap to their feet, frozen between awe and horror.

  “E-Elder Karl, I can explain—” Professor Halvern starts, but he never finishes the sentence.

  Elder Karl flashes across the room faster than most can blink. The cane whistles through the air, and crack—Professor Halvern hits the floor, clutching his cheek. The next instant, the old man’s staff comes down again and again in a rhythmic, merciless pattern.

  Smack!

  Smack!

  Smack!

  “Stealing from your peers! Exploiting your students! Using forbidden Skills in my Academy!”

  Each word lands like a hammer blow.

  The class is silent except for the thuds and the Professor’s muffled yelps. A few students cover their mouths; others lean forward, eyes wide with morbid fascination.

  “Elder Karl’s spanking him!”

  “He just—did you see that slap?!”

  “Isn’t Professor Halvern a True Diamond expert?! What Rank is Elder Karl?!”

  “Should we… stop him?”

  “No, no—let him cook,” the same voice speaks again, now right beside me, and when I turn, I find a man with gold-rimmed glasses.

  “Congratulation, Jacob Cloud”

  The air itself seems to still as the Headmaster appears from seemingly nowhere.

  Elder Karl freezes mid-swing, cane raised high, while Professor Halvern lies on the floor twitching, hair disheveled and robes half torn.

  “You’ve just earned yourself some Merit Points,” the Headmaster continues, his tone carrying that unnerving blend of warmth and authority. A faint smirk curls his lips as his eyes flick from me to the scene of chaos. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen Elder Karl this… enthusiastic.”

  Elder Karl doesn’t even look embarrassed; he just points the cane down at the crumpled Professor. “This disgrace used Map of the Stars to steal from my research! From my research!”

  “Yes, yes,” the Headmaster says lightly, waving a hand as if swatting away the words. “And now he’s being properly educated in humility. Carry on, Karl.”

  The old man nods solemnly and resumes his work.

  Smack.

  Smack.

  Smack.

  “You earn fifty more Merit Points, Cloud, for your service to the Academy in revealing the truth about Professor Halvern,” the Headmaster says. He folds his hands behind his back and studies the fallen man with the calm interest of someone watching a pest being flushed from a garden. “Do you have any suggestion on what we should do with him? Execute him?”

  I shrug, keeping my voice level.

  “He’s got a good grasp on many Gold and Platinum Skills. Make him pay his debt.” I glance at Elder Karl, who’s finally lowered his cane and is breathing like a bellows. “Have Professor Halvern work under Elder Karl, under supervision and strict oaths. Make him teach the common Gold and Platinum Skills for free in his courses. Force him to return what he stole by actually educating students instead of stealing from them.”

  The Headmaster’s smile widens, approving and faintly cruel. “Kind, and practical. It shall be done.” He nods once as if sealing the fate with a stamp. Around us, the classroom exhales—half relief, half stunned laughter—while Professor Halvern groans on the floor and tries to claw dignity back onto his face.

  I look the Headmaster in the eye, frowning. “You knew all along, didn’t you?”

  The man’s smile deepens into something unreadable. “Perhaps,” he says, and then, with the casual shift that makes his presence feel like weather, he adds, “You’ve got a message from your mother. The Elite Dungeon she booked you for has just refreshed.”

  “Oh?” I say.

  “But apparently it was almost completely booked and the main exploring team set some strict participation rules.”