Professor Halvern watches smugly as Jacob finishes up his Runic Notation. He can tell that the kid is just a poor arrogant bastard. Clearly, there’s nothing of substance in the work that he just produced. If there was, Professor Halvern would go hide in a forest.

  He’s just making a bunch of scribbles. And that’s supposed to be Runic Notation? Is this a joke?

  “Look at him, pretending to be all calm.”

  “He’s writing like he’s composing poetry, not Runic Notation!”

  “Maybe he’s trying to summon a demon for help.”

  “I think I just fell asleep watching him draw a circle.”

  “No, wait—look! The ink’s shaped so weirdly. Why’s it like that?”

  “Probably it leaked from his quill.”

  Professor Halvern hides his amusement behind a polite cough.

  At last, Jacob sets down the quill and hands the parchment to the trembling student. The student who uses Spear of the Metal Giant takes it gingerly, squints once, twice—then again, face twisting in utter confusion.

  Halvern tilts his head, waiting.

  “Uh… Professor,” the student says nervously. “I—I can’t read this.”

  A ripple of laughter rolls through the room.

  “Oh dear,” Princess Naar’ethra purrs, the smile on her lips sharp enough to cut. “Perhaps humans should stick to numbers. They’re simpler.”

  “That’s supposed to be Runic Notation?” another student whispers. “It looks like… a map of disappointment.”

  Halvern lets out a quiet sigh.

  And here I thought we’d get at least a little of a show.

  “Well, it appears that Jacob Cloud—”

  “Are you serious?” Jacob interrupts Professor Halvern pinches the bridge of his nose, then leans forward, takes the parchment from the hand of the student, rotates it, and gives it back. “You were holding it upside down.”

  Professor Halvern’s smile freezes halfway. Upside down?

  For a second, he blinks. Then blinks again. Wait… was I reading it upside down too?

  The student, red-faced, peers down at the corrected parchment. The room quiets.

  Every student leans in.

  Then the boy’s eyes widen. “HOLY—”

  He doesn’t finish the word. He drops to the ground in a cross-legged position as though struck, staring blankly at the page. Then, he closes his eyes in meditation.

  Silence.

  The Princess’s smile falters. Professor Halvern straightens slowly.

  When the boy finally opens his eyes again and speaks, his voice is quiet, reverent.

  “Mr. Champion, this means,” he points at the parchment, “through the Central Containment Vein first… then time a continuous output pulse via the Twin Pulse Veins in the forearms?”

  Jacob only nods.

  The boy closes his eyes again, still shaking.

  A murmur runs through the crowd.

  “He probably doesn’t even know what he’s saying.”

  “Yeah, this can’t go anywhere. He didn’t even understand it at first.”

  “The Princess’s version already hit eleven levels. This is just—”

  Halvern lets the noise wash over him as he narrows his eyes on the parchment.

  He’s just made a bunch of scribbles, he tells himself. If there’s actual substance in that mess, I’ll pack up and live in the forest.

  Yet, despite himself, he finds his eyes drawn back to the page.

  The boy rises slowly, his hands trembling as he draws in a breath. The classroom still hums faintly from the laughter, but all sound begins to fade as he closes his eyes and channels mana through his veins.

  The air thickens.

  A single silver circle blooms at his feet, brighter than before—sharper. Then, from its center, a new spear begins to form, not jagged or uneven like the last. The metal coils into shape as though poured from molten light, its surface shining and pulsating.

  The boy gasps, his eyes widening.

  “The Skill’s just gained thirty levels!”

  The classroom erupts.

  “Thirty?!”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “That’s impossible!”

  “He just more than doubled the Princess’s record!”

  “Is he kidding?! Thirty levels in one go?!”

  “No one can make a Platinum Skill jump that high!”

  “By the heavens, he’s… he’s shaking the air!”

  The boy raises the spear, and the entire class feels it—an invisible pressure pushing against their skin, rattling the desks, making the lamps flicker. The sound is like thunder wrapped in metal.

  Princess Naar’ethra’s eyes narrow, her lips parting in disbelief. “That… that isn’t possible. My Runic Notation was flawless!”

  “Then what do you call that?” someone whispers, clutching their seat as the mana from the hovering weapon washes through the room like a physical wave.

  Another student shouts, “It’s true! You can feel it! The destructive power’s overflowing! If he throws that thing, it’ll tear through the wall!”

  The whispers spiral into chaos.

  “He just outdid a royal!”

  “No one’s ever done that!”

  “Thirty levels—thirty! That’s triple the normal Tutor threshold!”

  “Maybe he cheated!”

  “He must have known the Skill beforehand!”

  “Or maybe… maybe he’s even more of a monster than she is!”

  Professor Halvern blinks, jaw tightening behind his composed expression. For a moment, he forgets to breathe as he watches the Mana shimmer faintly along the spear’s shaft. It’s perfect—too perfect.

  Then he forces himself to straighten, clearing his throat.

  No, he thinks, no, that’s absurd.

  Yes, yes. I was simply unlucky. That’s all. The boy must have known that Skill in advance—must have studied its structure before today. There’s no other explanation. I was just unlucky.

  He folds his arms, smiling faintly again, though his pulse thunders in his ears. Jacob Cloud didn’t just improvise this. He couldn’t have. He’s not a miracle worker. He’s just—

  The metal spear hums once more, sending another pulse through the floor.

  Professor Halvern’s fingers twitch. —just lucky.

  Princess Naar’ethra stares at the hovering weapon, her elegant composure fracturing as the metal vibrates. The spear’s light ripples across her sharp features, turning her eyes shiny with disbelief.

  “How’s this possible?" she mutters.

  Professor Halvern clears his throat loudly, the sound echoing awkwardly through the stunned silence that follows. He adjusts his glasses twice, his composure straining against the weight of what he’s just witnessed. “Ahem—yes, well…” he says, turning toward the boy, who’s still staring at the radiant weapon in his hands. “Are you absolutely certain, young man? You said… thirty levels?”

  The boy looks up, face pale with awe. “Thirty-three, to be precise, Professor Halvern.”

  Professor Halvern exhales slowly, his pride twisting like a knife in his chest. “Then,” he says at last, his voice clipped and reluctant, “by the standards of this exercise—Mister Cloud… wins.”

  The students burst into shouts and gasps, half in disbelief, half in exhilaration, while Princess Naar’ethra’s gaze flicks sharply toward Jacob Cloud, her disbelief hardening into something dangerously close to fury. Professor Halvern stands very still, forcing a polite smile as he mutters under his breath, thirty-three… how utterly inconvenient.

  Professor Halvern exhales slowly, his pride twisting like a knife in his chest. “Then,” he says at last, his voice clipped and reluctant, “by the standards of this exercise—Mister Cloud… wins.”

  * * *

  I step between Princess Naar’ethra and Zibrek, palm raised.

  “Princess Naar’ethra, since I won the bet, you don’t get to impose on Zibrek Gear—huh…”

  “Gearlash,” Zibrek coughs.

  “Zibrek Gearlash. Are you willing to respect the bet?” I say.

  “As a Princess, my title is only as good as my word,” the gorgeous green woman says through gritted teeth. “I… I must abide by the rules of the bet.” Then she turns toward Zibrek. “I am madly in love with you, Zibrek Gearlash. I bowed twelve times to your parents because of what an amazing Goblin you are, not just because of duty. I regret that we cannot consume our union and spawn many children for the kingdom.”

  Princess Naar’ethra’s chin lifts a fraction, her eyes becoming et. “I have dishonered my family. I bow in defeat and I bid you goodbye. I—”

  I turn toward Zibrek, seeing that she’s visibly relieved and her shoulders have loosened. Yet, she seems to be biting her lower lip in regret.

  Oh, right. I think that she’s actually…

  “BUT,” I cough, “I didn’t say you cannot ever talk to Zibrek again. I’m just saying that if you want to marry her, you should get to know her first and allow her to do the same.”

  I see Princess Naar’ethra’s eyes beaming.

  “REALLY?!”

  “If you behave like a normal person—no claiming, no declaring, no ‘wife’ unless she says so—then you can talk to her. Ask. Listen. Accept no for an answer. That’s the deal.”

  Princess Naar’ethra’s nostrils flare; for a heartbeat, pride and temper wrestle across her face. Then she exhales, straightens, and inclines her head a hair’s breadth.

  “I… can speak as a civilized Princess,” she says carefully. “If Zibrek Gearlash grants me audience.”

  Zibrek nods once, a careful, grateful little motion. I step back half a pace, still between them but no longer a wall—just a line.

  “Good. Then we’re done with this,” I exhale, happy to have dealt with the problem Zibrek threw on my lap at the start of the lesson.

  “Jacob Cloud,” I hear the sound of teeth gnashing and I turn to see a furious Professor Halvern looking at me. “We are not done. You came here for a test, correct?”

  “Indeed,” I say with a smile. “But doesn’t what I just shown you count as a passing grade?”

  “Most definitely not. As far as I know, this was just luck.”

  Luck? I think to myself. Is he really such a fool to believe that this was luck?

  “Sure, then. Let’s proceed with the test.”

  “I will ask you to show me one of your Skills,” Professor Halvern says, using his Map of the Stars Skill that he uses to steal from students.

  I feel a vein pulsating on my forehead.

  This shameless bastard still wants to steal my secrets?!

  I turn toward Zibrek and I say, “would you fetch me Elder Karl, please?”

  Zibrek opens her mouth to ask a question but when she sees the anger in my eyes, she just obeys.

  “What, you think that Elder Karl is going to grant you a passing grade here?” Professor Halvern smirks. “Do you have any idea whose Class this is? I decide who passes or not, Jacob Cloud, Fake Champion.”

  A few students gasp when they hear that title and the fact that a Professor would use it for a student.

  “I think you misunderstand my intentions,” I say, looking calmly at Professor Halvern. “I intended to mind my own business because I just wanted to pass this Class and be done with it. Yet, you keep being a shameless swindler and aiming to steal from me. Therefore, I’ll show everyone what a scammer you are.”