As time flowed, summer arrived in full.
The sun grew brighter and harsher, the days stretching longer as if the world itself wanted to remind everyone that the first semester was ending.
Warm air clung to the stone paths of Stellaris Academy, and the campus, usually crisp and orderly, felt a little slower.
A little lazier.
Students lingered outside longer, uniforms loosened, and even the usual tension between majors softened in the heat.
But for Soren, the season didn't feel relaxing.
It felt like a countdown.
"So it's finally here," Soren muttered as he stared at the notice board.
He was standing among a small cluster of first-years, all of them pretending to be calm while their eyes scanned for the same thing.
Some whispered.
Others stared blankly, like they were trying to trick themselves into believing it wasn't real.
Soren read the posted paper once, then again, as if the words might change if he blinked.
.
[Official Notice]
All first-year students enrolled in Magic, Combat, and Divine Studies are hereby informed that the Practical Examination will be held on Monday at 9:00 AM.
Attendance is mandatory.
.
The final exam of the first semester.
It was a huge turning point in the story.
And more importantly…
'It also gives me a chance to finally fix everything.'
The practical exam was a hinge point.
In ❰The Knight of Stellaris❱, Act 1 ended with it.
After that, the world didn't just progress.
It shifted.
Storylines locked into place.
Characters changed trajectories.
Certain events became unavoidable.
And if Soren played his cards right, he could do what he had been trying to do since the start: step away.
Completely.
No more constantly second-guessing every conversation.
No more agonising over whether a small choice would snowball into disaster.
No more waking up with that tight, gnawing fear that he had already ruined everything without realising.
If he could get through the practical exam cleanly… then he could finally breathe.
Then, once the exam ended, there would be two months of summer break.
Two months where he could travel outside Stellaris Academy, claim more hidden pieces, and strengthen himself without the constant pressure of daily rankings and academy politics.
Two months where he could grind, train, and grow in ways the original story hadn't allowed.
'And I'll finally get a return on some of my investments.'
Soren's eyes narrowed slightly, thoughts shifting automatically into numbers and timing.
In the game, the end of Act 1 didn't just change quests.
It changed markets.
New quests appeared.
Old ones disappeared.
Certain items became unavailable while others flooded in.
And most importantly for someone who had bet his future on knowledge, the stock exchange shifted.
After winning big at the gambling den, Soren had immediately invested most of that money using his game knowledge.
Not in one reckless pile, but spread across the specific holdings he knew would surge after the practical exam.
It had been a gamble in the real-world sense, sure… but in the game sense, it was practically guaranteed.
After the final exam, he wouldn't just be "comfortable."
He would be rich.
'I can't wait.'
There were items he wanted.
Accessories, tools, clothes, books, things he had held off on because even with his gambling money, he had still been cautious.
But after Act 1?
He could finally stop pinching every coin.
He could build a real foundation.
'That reminds me…'
Soren's steps had originally been aimed toward the dormitory.
He was already half-thinking about sleep, about blood magic practice later, about how to structure the next few days.
But instead, he stopped, then turned, and then redirected himself toward the central administrative building, one of the most imposing structures on campus, sitting neatly at the heart of Stellaris Academy like a reminder of authority.
It was the building where most professors kept their personal offices.
Ordinarily, someone like Soren would never have business there.
A class F first-year wasn't exactly the kind of student who got summoned by department heads.
But Soren wasn't here to be summoned.
He was here to collect.
There was something he still hadn't cashed in on.
And now was the perfect time.
Knock knock.
A beat of silence.
— Who is it?
"Soren Arden," he answered, keeping his voice respectful. "First-year Class F."
— Give me a second.
Soren waited, hands in his pockets, listening to faint movement inside.
He kept his expression calm, but his mind ran through possibilities.
Would he be denied because Ivan had been executed?
Would Ivan's belongings have been seized?
Would the administration claim it was "inappropriate" to award anything further?
Soren didn't think so, but he had learned the hard way that "reasonable" and "Ivansia" didn't always overlap.
After nearly a full minute, the door swung open.
And Soren's brain went momentarily blank.
A man stood there who towered over him so completely that the height difference felt comical.
Serfort Karnstein.
Dean of Martial Studies.
Overseer of the entire major.
One of the academy's pillars.
In the game, he was a minor but important authority figure, known for being strict yet fair.
In person…
'He's fucking huge.'
Soren couldn't stop his mouth from going slightly agape.
Serfort's uniform was neat, immaculate, even, but it looked like it was struggling to contain him.
The fabric pulled subtly at his shoulders.
His arms were thick enough that Soren could easily imagine them snapping bones without effort.
It wasn't just muscle, either.
It was the presence.
The kind that made weaker people instinctively straighten their backs.
Serfort regarded him with a neutral expression that was strangely patient.
"What can I do for you today, Student Soren?"
Soren swallowed once, then forced himself to speak clearly.
"I was here to request my rewards from my duel against Ivan Olfram."
Serfort's eyes sharpened slightly.
Not hostile, more like he was shifting into professional mode.
"Oh, I see."
His voice remained even.
"Well, as you know, Student Ivan has already received due punishment for his actions against you in the duel, so I worry that I may not be of help to yourself."
Soren nodded.
He had expected that response.
"That's fine, but the reward stated that the winner can make any demand of the loser."
Serfort didn't interrupt.
He simply listened.
"If that demand doesn't require Ivan to be personally there," Soren continued, "but instead concerns his belongings… would that be allowed?"
Serfort's gaze held steady for a moment.
Then he gave a small nod.
"If that was the exact wording of the reward, then I don't see why not."
Soren's shoulders loosened slightly.
'Good.'
He kept his face controlled, but inside he felt relief.
"Then could I possibly receive the relic he was wearing during the duel?"
This was the reward he had decided on after days of thinking.
There were other things Ivan had that could be valuable, money, connections, materials, but Soren didn't want messy requests that might get challenged.
The relic was clean.
Clear.
And more importantly, it was powerful.
It had blocked his point-blank [Ignition] spell, fired from his mouth, at near-zero distance, with almost absurd effectiveness.
Any item that could negate damage, even once, was priceless to someone as frail as him.
Serfort's expression didn't change, but his eyes flickered with recognition.
"I will put a request for that in now," he said calmly. "Is that all?"
"Yes," Soren replied immediately, then remembered basic manners. "Thank you very much."
"It's no bother at all." Serfort's tone softened slightly. "I heard that the first-year's final exams are next week? I hope you do well, Student Soren."
Soren blinked, a little surprised.
Then Serfort continued, voice still measured but more human than Soren expected.
"I apologise that you had to go through such a situation."
For a second, Soren's throat felt tight.
He didn't know how to respond to that properly.
'He's nicer than I thought.'
Soren knew from the game that Serfort was an amicable man, but in person, with that size, that background, that former membership in Fialova's elite group Trinity, Soren had expected colder authority.
Instead, it felt like Serfort genuinely meant it.
Soren bowed slightly.
"Thank you, I'll do my best."
Serfort nodded once, satisfied, and didn't keep him longer than necessary.
Soren turned and left the administrative building, steps brisk, mind already moving on to the next task.
The moment he was outside, he exhaled.
'Alright. One more thing secured.'
Now all he had to do was wait for it to be processed.
And survive the practical exam.
His body suddenly remembered the exhaustion he had been ignoring all morning.
'Let's have a nap, then I can practice some more blood magic later.'
After seeing blood magic's strength in his duel with Ivan, Soren had long since decided to make it his primary focus for the foreseeable future.
It was dangerous, yes, but it was effective, and in his position, effectiveness mattered more than comfort.
He returned to the dormitory building, unlocked his door, and the moment he stepped inside, his body stopped pretending it had energy.
He tossed his clothes aside, dropped onto the bed, and felt his eyes close almost immediately as fatigue caught up with him.
••✦ ♡ ✦•••
Knock knock.
Soren jolted awake so hard he nearly bit his tongue.
For a second, he didn't know where he was.
His room looked unfamiliar in that half-asleep haze, sunlight spilling in through the curtains, dust floating in the beam, his uniform tossed somewhere on the floor.
Then another knock came, more polite than insistent.
Knock knock.
Soren groaned and dragged himself upright, hair sticking out at odd angles.
His body felt heavy in that way it always did after training too hard, like even his bones were tired.
He shuffled to the door and opened it.
A maid stood outside, posture perfect, expression neutral in the way trained staff always were.
"Mail for Soren Arden," she said politely.
Soren blinked at her, then held his hands out.
She placed two items into his palms with practised care.
"One letter and one parcel," she added, as if clarifying for him.
"Thank you," Soren said, voice still rough from sleep.
The maid dipped her head once and turned away without another word.
Soren closed the door gently and stared down at what he had been handed.
'What's this?'
He walked back to his desk and set the items down carefully in front of him.
A letter.
And a small box.
The box was plain but high quality, the kind that didn't need decoration because the material itself screamed money.
No note attached.
No ribbon.
Just a clean presentation.
Soren's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Let's start with the box, I guess?"
He pulled it closer, thumb slipping under the lid.
Click.
The lid lifted smoothly.
Inside sat a pair of earrings.
Soren blinked once.
"Oh," he murmured, then leaned closer. "These must've been Ivan's."
Even without a note, it was obvious.
There was faint mana clinging to them, subtle but distinct, like an object that had absorbed magic over time rather than something freshly enchanted.
And the shape matched what he remembered Ivan wearing during the duel.
Soren's lips twitched.
'That was fast?'
He had only gone to Serfort's office yesterday.
Not only had the relic been located, but it had been transferred to him, packaged neatly, and delivered to his dorm.
He couldn't tell whether that said something about Serfort's efficiency or about how thoroughly Ivan's existence was being erased.
'Not that I'm going to complain.'
Soren lifted the earrings out with careful fingers, smiling despite himself.
"They're pretty?"
He was genuinely surprised.
Dungeon relics were often ugly.
Not always, but frequently, especially lower-ranked ones.
They tended to look gaudy or crude, like something slapped together and enchanted because someone could, not because someone cared.
But these?
These looked like something from a top-tier jeweller.
Silver hooks, delicate and clean, with a blood-coloured gem in a teardrop shape.
Elegant.
Minimal.
The kind of accessory that would look expensive even if it did nothing.
He tilted them under the light, watching the gem catch a faint crimson shine.
"Should I just put them in or…?"
Soren stood up and walked over to the mirror, holding them up near his ears.
His face, as always, made him pause for a second.
Good bone structure.
Pale skin.
Red eyes.
White hair.
A face that could be used for a thousand different aesthetics, if the original Soren had bothered.
Soren angled his head, then tugged lightly on his earlobe, checking.
Nothing.
No piercing.
He blinked, mildly offended.
'Seriously, why didn't this guy do anything with his looks?'
It was strange.
Piercings were common among nobles.
Accessories were normal.
Even men wore earrings without anyone batting an eye.
With this face, the original Soren could have gotten away with almost anything.
But apparently, he hadn't.
Soren sighed.
"I'll have to pierce them myself."
There was a brief moment where a sane person would have gone to a professional.
Soren, however, had no patience for that.
He raised a hand and focused.
A tiny needle formed out of blood at his fingertip, thin, sharp, and precise.
[Hemokinesis] really was useful for everything.
He held it up to his left earlobe.
He hesitated for half a heartbeat, then…
Stab!
The needle pierced through.
Soren barely flinched.
He didn't remove the needle immediately, leaving it in place like a placeholder, then created another with his other hand and brought it to his right ear.
Stab!
Both needles sat there, thin and almost invisible against his pale skin.
Soren's eyes narrowed as he inspected them in the mirror.
No bleeding beyond a faint red bead.
No shaking hands.
His body was steady.
He cast [Blood Absorption] on the needles.
The blood constructs dissolved instantly, fading away as if they had never existed.
Then he slid the newly acquired earrings into the fresh piercings.
Click.
A small, satisfying sound.
"Phew… done."
Only when the earrings were in place did Soren finally let out a long breath.
The tension eased out of his shoulders like he had been holding it in without realising.
He had expected pain.
Instead, it was just a faint tingly discomfort.
His [Pain Tolerance] skill had risen enough that minor wounds like piercings barely registered.
Soren stepped closer to the mirror and inspected his work.
The earrings dangled neatly from his ears, silver against white hair, the blood-coloured gems catching light like little drops of red.
"Perfect."
He grinned.
It matched him far too well.
If Ivan's relic had been something hideous, some thick gaudy hoop, some clownish stud, Soren might have actually cried.
But this?
This looked like it belonged.
His freshly pierced ears still dripped a little blood, but he could deal with that.
A quick [Blood Absorption] here, a [Clean] there, and he would be fine.
"Let's see what they do. 「Information」"
A translucent window appeared before his eyes.
Soren's shoulders loosened instantly.
"Thank god."
They had already been appraised.
That meant he didn't need to waste time going all the way to Hammond's place, paying a fee, and sitting through awkward small talk while the man pretended he wasn't judging Soren's entire existence.
Soren's eyes locked onto the text.
.
[Bloodrop]
[Skill: Null]
[Absorb the impact of a single attack.]
[Cooldown: 14 days.]
.
"Holy shit…"
Soren clasped a hand over his mouth, staring like the window might start laughing at him.
"That's OP."
He read it again.
Absorbed.
Then again.
Once every two weeks.
Soren's lips parted slowly, awe mixing with a sharp, bitter satisfaction.
'Now I finally have a safety net.'
So many fights he had survived by a hair.
So many situations where one unlucky wound, one stray hit, one sudden strike, could have ended him.
This changed things.
It didn't make him immortal.
But it gave him something he didn't have before.
A margin.
A chance to make a mistake and not die for it immediately.
The only problem…
Soren's gaze drifted down.
The cooldown.
Because Ivan had already used it during their duel.
[Cooldown: 05:02:36:48]
Five days.
And the final exam was in four.
Soren stared at the numbers for a long moment.
It was a shame, but he couldn't bring himself to feel disappointed, not really, because even if it wasn't ready for the practical exam, it would be for everything after.
And after Act 1, the world became far more dangerous than any school examination.
Soren touched one of the earrings lightly, feeling the cool metal against his fingertips.
"Worth it," he murmured.
His ears were still bleeding faintly, but he casually cast [Blood Absorption] once, then [Clean], tidying it up.
The tiny marks remained, but the blood was gone.
"Alright," he said, turning back toward his desk. "That just leaves the letter, then."
He sat down slowly, posture straightening as his attention shifted from excitement to caution.
Because the letter wasn't like the box.
The box made sense.
The letter did not.
Soren picked it up carefully and inspected it.
The paper was thick, high-quality, the kind used by people who wanted their messages to feel important before you even opened them.
His eyes narrowed.
Then he turned it over.
And his stomach dropped instantly.
"Shit."
Stamped on the back of the letter was the seal of the Arden family.
————「❤︎」————