Ding—!
[Your proficiency in Spear Arts has increased.]
[Technique → Piercing Fang Thrust ]
[Progress: 16%]
Finally.
After an hour of training, the status notification popped up, acknowledging my hard work.
Though… my technique's progress was only 16%.
"Tch. How long is this gonna take to hit 100%?"
Anyway—
If you're wondering where I am or what I'm doing right now…
Currently, I'm at one of the academy's training grounds, attending my elective class—"Weapon Mastery."
And no, I'm not learning swordsmanship.
Swords? That's in my blood.
This body has been trained in the sword since childhood.
What I'm learning is Spear Arts.
Why?
Because the strongest weapon in my arsenal right now is the spear I got from the system—
[Drakathorn].
And since I have the skill "Weapon Master," training has been… well, ridiculously easy.
What would take months for soone else to learn?
I picked up in an hour.
Still, leaving that aside…
If you're wondering about my answer to Instructor Samantha's offer—
"Fuck yeah, Milf Master."
Ahem.
Of course, I didn't say it like that.
But how the hell could I refuse?
Getting personal training from one of the strongest warriors in the empire?
That's a once-in-a-lifeti opportunity.
****
After taking a short breather, I resud training.
This ti, I went with a bow.
After all—if I have the 'Weapon Master' skill, I might as well make full use of it.
I raised the sleek wooden fra, nocking an arrow on the string.
Though I'd used a bow occasionally, it felt strangely natural in my hands.
Drawing mana from my core, I coated the arrow with a thin layer of energy—its surface glowing in a light azure hue.
Then—
I pulled back the bowstring, steadying my breath.
"Fuuuu—"
Swoosh—!
Tak—!
The arrow whistled through the air before embedding itself dead center in the target.
Bull's-eye.
"Hah!" I smirked, lowering the bow.
Though… it was still nowhere near Nyra's level.
Well, she's an elf.
Her archery skills and techniques are practically engraved in her blood.
I tried imitating one of her signature techniques, expecting the arrow to split into ten mana darts mid-flight—
Instead?
It just… didn't.
Tch.
If done correctly, the mana coating should have fragnted, creating the illusion of multiple arrows.
Sothing wasn't right.
Maybe I— Didn't channel the right amount of mana?, Didn't release the arrow properly?, Missed a hidden technique requirent?
Sigh.
"Maybe I should just ask Nyra directly…"
Before I could continue my experint—
"WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ?!"
A furious voice snapped out of my thoughts. Your next read awaits at My Virtual Library Empire
I turned my head toward the source of the shouting.
There, I spotted a tall, muscular youth towering over a blonde-haired boy, his expression twisted with anger.
Even from a glance, I recognized him.
"Oh. Isn't that Nyra's cousin? What was his na again… Alan?"
I humd in amusent.
"With his shitty personality, I knew he'd get into trouble eventually."
I glanced back at my bow.
Then at the unfolding scene.
Then back at my bow.
Hmm.
"Well, this has nothing to do with . Might as well sit back and enjoy the show."
I smirked.
Drama! Drama! Drama~!
Ever since childhood, I've loved drama.
I an, who doesn't?
Everyone enjoys watching a good quarrel unfold.
And ?
I didn't just watch it—I thrived on it.
If I couldn't find chaos—
I'd create it myself.
How, you ask?
Simple.
Just walk up to a guy on a date and casually say, "She's better than the last one."
Boom. Chaos.
Just whisper a few words between friends—watch their entire friendship collapse.
Manipulate a girl into breaking up with her boyfriend, convince the boyfriend it was her fault, and then sit back with popcorn.
Oh, and rember that one story about a bunch of drunk college friends playing Truth or Dare?
Guess who planted the idea?
Yup. .
Why did I do it?
Because I knew it would lead to peak drama.
Of course, this negatively impacted my social life.
Very few friends.
But h.
Totally worth it.
I worship chaos.
I love drama.
There's just sothing so satisfying about watching peace get absolutely obliterated.
And yeah, I know what you're thinking—
"Wow, Arthur, you sound like a horrible person."
Do I look like I care?
It's not like I was committing a cri.
I was just having fun.
*****
[That's a very bad way to have fun.]
Sol's dry voice rang in my head.
I snorted.
"Shut up. At least I don't enjoy watching others have sex."
Silence.
Checkmate.
****
Anyway—where was I?
Ah, yes. Chaos.
Seeing this fight about to unfold before , I did the only logical thing.
I quickly opened the system shop.
Scrolled through the items.
And—
Bought a bucket of popcorn.
Yes. Popcorn.
Training could wait.
This?
This was peak entertainnt.
I casually reached into my bucket of popcorn, popping a piece into my mouth as the shouting continued.
"What did you say to ?!"
A bulky, muscle-bound giant lood over Alan, his deep voice booming across the training field.
The dude was ripped.
His black academy blazer strained against his gigantic biceps, looking like it was about to burst at the seams.
With a height of around 6'8, his re presence could induce fear into anyone's heart.
Hard to believe this guy was only sixteen.
His na was…
Uh…
Actually, I didn't know.
"Do you know who I am?!"
The walking protein shake puffed out his chest, glaring down at the much smaller elven boy in front of him.
"I'M ALBERT GLEN!"
Ah.
So his na was Albert.
"I'M FRIENDS WITH DAMIEN MORNINGSTAR!"
Oh, good. He introduced himself twice—saves the effort.
I threw another handful of popcorn into my mouth.
The onlookers whispered among themselves, so stepping back as if afraid the sheer volu of his voice might knock them over.
Even those who hadn't been paying attention before had turned their heads, watching in horror.
Albert puffed up even more, expecting his words to strike fear into the elven boy.
After all, Damien Morningstar is the second son of Morningstar ducal house.
Which made Albert, what?
His official lapdog?
Probably.
Anyway, back to the drama.
"Dude, why are you so mad?"
The petite elven boy, Alan, finally spoke—his voice calm, unwavering.
"I just asked you to move from this spot politely."
Alan's face showed zero signs of fear.
Not even mild concern.
No fucks given.
Albert was puffing up his chest like so big-shot, but who was he even threatening?
Dude.
Your entire claim to fa is being Damien Morningstar's lackey.
anwhile, the small elf standing in front of you?
Yeah, that's Alan fucking Vilde.
As in—royal family.
Sure, he's rude as hell and has the personality of a sewer rat, but at least he's got the skills to back it up.
…Well.
Of course, not against .
I still rember him crying like a baby when I severed his hand during our first eting.
And ever since then, he's been avoiding like the plague.
Ahem. Anyway.
Back to the drama.
"What do you an you asked politely?!"
Albert's voice bood again, his veins practically popping from the sheer volu of his yelling.
"You literally said, and I quote—
'Oi, move from here, you're taking too much space.'
DOES THAT SOUND POLITE TO YOU?!"
He spat out his words in a mix of ridicule and outrage.
"And who the hell are you to tell what to do?!"
For an outsider, this might seem like a childish argunt.
I an, seriously.
Albert's entire reason for starting a fight was because Alan was rude to him.
Dumbass.
Guys like Albert are only strong in front of the weak and weak in front of the strong.
And Alan?
He's just too damn haughty for his own good.
Put their kinds together, and you'll get a full-blown fight over the dumbest reason imaginable in under a minute.
Though, to be fair—
Elves are prideful.
And Alan?
Yeah, he's an elf to his very core.
I smirked, tossing another handful of popcorn into my mouth.
"What are you talking about? I never said that!"
Alan's frown deepened as he crossed his arms.
"Looks like you're trying to bla for sothing I didn't even do."
His voice dripped with irritation.
"I only asked you to move a little! You're swinging that greatsword around like it's a toy—soone could get hurt!"
Oh? A reasonable response?
How… unexpected.
But Albert?
Albert wasn't having it.
"Oh, is that right? So you're saying I heard wrong?"
His voice shot up, his massive arms flexing as he stepped forward.
"I'm sorry to tell you this, shorty, but unlike your long-ass elf ears that clearly don't function properly, mine work just fine!"
OHHHHH!
Now that was a low blow.
Elves are hella sensitive about their ears.
And short guys?
They're hella sensitive about their height.
Silence hung in the air for a mont.
Then—
Alan's chest puffed up in pure rage.
"You know what?! I never said anything you're claiming I did—
But now? I AM!"
He scowled.
"You're uselessly big! Go fuck off sowhere else instead of making a fuss and disturbing everyone around you!"
Oof.
Even I wouldn't have taken that sitting down if I were Albert.
Albert's veins bulged as his fists clenched tight.
"WHAT?!"
He took a step forward, glaring down at Alan like he was about to punt him across the field.
"Why the fuck would I care about anyone else?! And if you have a problem, then you move!"
His deep voice thundered across the training grounds.
"In fact, how about you run before I punch that stupid face of yours?"
A warning.
A clear threat.
But Alan?
Alan just smirked.
"So, let's recap—
You accuse soone of sothing they never did. You refuse to be mindful of your surroundings. And now, you're openly threatening a fellow student with physical assault."
Alan tilted his head, his voice mockingly casual.
"Did I miss anything, or should I call an instructor now?"
I let out a low whistle.
Damn.
Alan really just hit Albert with the "You sure you wanna do this?" card.
The energy shifted.
The crowd leaned in, waiting for Albert's next move.
I popped another handful of popcorn into my mouth.
"Alright, big guy. What's it gonna be?"
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