Teach us

Nolan tried to sound casual, brushing it off. It's his plan so they won't know how his Internet Ability works.

But the students weren't fooled.

That wasn't just a small step. They knew how rare a breakthrough like that was. They could tell it was a natural breakthrough, which meant it was beneficial for him.

Usually, when one feels like they are breaking through, they must run their Mana Knight refinement technique to achieve a breakthrough safely. If they don't, they might get harmed by their own mana.

However, Calien didn't use a Mana Knight refinement technique, and he broke through without it.

WITHOUT IIIIIT!!!

A NATURAL BREAKTHROUGH WITHOUT MANA KNIGHT REFINEMENT TECHNIQUE!!!

A natural breakthrough means no harm done.

Looking at Calien, it looked like he's not really harmed.

So it didn't happen by accident.

They may be young but they are not fools.

One by one, students turned to stare at Nolan, eyes wide with realization.

He made this. This simulation.

And it worked.

It actually worked on Calien.

His Special Aracen Ream is really unique as he claimed to be.

It didn't just help them train—it made them experience a natural refinement.

This is what a true Mana Specialist, a teacher of mana can do!

Out of all the professors in the academy—who had drilled them with boring sword forms, pointless lectures, or copied magic manuals—none had ever shown them something like this.

And this Nolan guy? He wasn't even a full professor yet. Just some assessment-phase teacher.

But he made the Calien breakthrough!

Suddenly, hands shot into the air.

"Prof! Can we try it too?"

"Let me play!"

"I want to try that simulation too, prof… please"

"I want to train like that!"

"Please let us in!"

Nolan blinked, startled at the sudden energy. For a moment, he looked like he might say no. But then he gritted his teeth.

"Of course you can," he said with a strained smile.

One by one, the students clicked Play on their own floating screens.

Each screen shimmered and transformed into the same ruined world Calien had faced.

Some had different streets, different layouts—but the infected were always there.

As they entered, Nolan felt a twinge in his chest.

"Damn it," he cursed under his breath. "They're all playing now. This wasn't part of the plan."

But he knew he couldn't stop them.

The system had issued him a mission. He had to make the students benefit from it.

That was the only way they'd be motivated enough to attend the final assessment tomorrow. And if they showed up… means he passed.

Even if he hated the idea of it.

Meanwhile, inside the simulations, the classroom erupted into chaos.

Shouts of excitement mixed with frustration filled the air as students laughed and cursed at their screens.

The thrill of the challenge was palpable, but so was the growing frustration as they faced defeat.

They even discovered a multiplayer mode so they could help each other.

"Kera! Watch your flank!"

"I got it, I got it—argh! Nevermind, I'm dead!"

"Selin, help me! There's too many!"

"Ruvin, throw your knife! Do it!"

"Erik! Don't go in alone—"

BOOM.

Game Over.

Inside each simulation, chaos reigned. The infected swarmed. The students fought with everything they had—group, sacrifice, weapons, quick reflexes—but they kept dying.

Again and again.

The simulations restarted. Each time, they shouted, cursed, changed strategies.

Some tried running.

Some tried hiding.

Some tried fighting with different weapons.

But no matter what they did—they always died.

"Why are there so many?!"

"Why do they come after me every time I kill one?!"

"I don't get it—how do I win?!"

"This doesn't make any sense!"

Again and again, they faced death.

Each Game Over tone felt like a reminder of their limitations.

Frustration hung thick in the air as they struggled to comprehend their failures.

Eventually, the noise began to die down. One by one, the simulations ended.

The floating screens dimmed.

Students leaned back in their chairs, breathing hard, some wiping sweat from their brows, even though none of it was real.

But the exhaustion… it felt real.

"It's too hard! I couldn't even kill one when I was already surrounded."

"The same thing happened to us…"

"Yeah, it's frustrating…"

"What should we do?"

"How do we get out of being surrounded?"

Suddenly, there was a long pause.

One by one, all thirteen students turned to Nolan, their expressions a mix of confusion and desperation.

They stared at him, their faces filled with frustration, confusion—and hope.

And all together, they said in voices laced with desperation and awe:

"Professor?"

Nolan sat in his chair with one leg lazily crossed over the other, arms folded, watched as the classroom fell into a kind of virtual anarchy.

Every few seconds, another one of them would shout in panic—"Ah!" "No!" "I can't move!"—followed by the soft, mechanical Game Over tone that echoed like a funeral bell.

Then silence for a moment.

And then they'd start again.

Over and over.

Die. Restart. Die. Restart.

It was… glorious.

He grinned to himself, eyes sharp behind his half-lidded gaze.

Although he's pissed that they would benefit from his Internet, seeing them suffer makes him feel a little satisfied.

It was like a special kind of satisfaction bubbling in his chest—like watching a bunch of smug nobles trying to eat cheap street food for the first time and gagging on it.

All those arrogant brats.

So proud. So overconfident. Mocking that his class would be like others—boring. Whining that it wouldn't be "challenging enough." Sneering at him for not being a full-fledged professor yet, as if status determined power or knowledge.

Now?

They were squirming.

They were clueless.

Desperate.

He could taste their frustration from across the room, and he savored it like a well-cooked meal.

Nolan leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his knuckles, elbows on the armrest of his chair. His eyes sparkled with dark amusement.

"Oh?" he whispered to himself. "What happened to all that confidence? You looked so smart just an hour ago. Why are you all begging me now?"

But then one of the students actually said it out sadly loud.

"Please…"

He raised an eyebrow.

Shameless. The lot of them.

But he didn't budge. He wasn't going to make it easy. They'd have to suffer more. They needed to understand that learning meant earning.

Then suddenly, a girl stood up. Her voice was loud, clear.

"If you don't help us, I'll get naked and kneel in front of you."

That caught Nolan off guard.

He blinked. "What—?"

She took a step forward, fingers already tugging at the edge of her blazer. "I'm serious. I'll kneel right here. I'll even take off—"

"Enough," Nolan said immediately with a sharp voice.

Her fingers froze just as she reached for the first button of her uniform.

The whole room went quiet.

"I'll teach you," Nolan said, trying to sound unaffected.

But the students, of course, immediately burst into laughter.

"Haha! Teacher is soft!"

"Haha, I knew it! He talks big, but he's just like every other teacher!"

"So much for being different!"

"I thought he was cold-blooded! He folded the moment someone flashed a little skin!"

Nolan's face twitched. He kept his smile locked in place, but the corner of his mouth was twitching like it wanted to betray him.

He grit his teeth. In his mind, a storm brewed.

Just wait… Once I pass the system's mission tomorrow… once I secure my spot in this academy... I'll make sure you cry blood before you even touch the next benefit of my internet cheat.

He stood up from his chair, adjusting his coat with a single swift tug. His eyes swept across the room, all amusement gone now.

"Alright," he said, voice cold and firm. "Since you want to learn, then listen carefully."

The students straightened. Even the ones who were laughing moments ago quickly quieted.

Nolan raised a hand.

"First," he said, "what weapons do you all start with in the simulation?"

"The flashlight," one student said.

"And the Pathogen Blade," another added.

Nolan nodded. "Right. A flashlight. And a short knife. Basically useless when you're surrounded. So what's the goal?"

"To survive?" someone said tentatively.

Nolan's eyes narrowed. "Be more specific."

Another student raised their hand. "To reach the top of the building? That's the mission setup, right?"

"Yes," Nolan confirmed. "The story of the simulation is simple: you are an ordinary person in single player, or an ordinary group in multiplayer, separated from your main group.

"Your goal is simple yet daunting: reach the rooftop of a secure building and wait for extraction. But with hordes of infected lurking at every turn, survival isn't just about reaching the goal—it's about outsmarting your enemies.

"The map is filled with infected humans. But you always die because you're surrounded the moment you kill even one."

He paused, making sure they were paying attention.

All thirteen students nodded, listening carefully now.

"Good. Now," Nolan continued, "remember what Calien kept using earlier in his run? What was it?"

The students looked at each other, trying to recall. Then Kera raised her hand.

"The steel pipe?"

"Yes," Nolan said with a nod. "That's it. A broken steel pipe from the side of the road. It wasn't a weapon—it was a tool. A distraction."

He began pacing slowly in front of the class.

"In this simulation, your job isn't to fight. It's to survive. Use your brain. Think like a cornered human, not like a knight. You don't pick fights. You avoid them."

He stopped and looked at the class.

"If you're dropped into the map, what's the first thing you do?"

"Find something to distract them?" someone guessed.

Nolan nodded. "Correct. Anything that makes noise. Pipes. Bricks. Bottles. Anything. Throw it far. Make the infected go the other way. Then find a building. A big building."

"Why big?" another student asked.

"So you don't get cornered," Nolan said. "Tight alleys will trap you. Large spaces give you options."

He pointed at them.

"Now, what's the strategy?"

"Find a pipe. Throw it to distract. Find a big building. Don't fight. Get inside."

"Exactly," Nolan said.

The class shouted in unison, energized now. "Alright, Professor!"

One by one, the students entered the simulation again.

This time, there was no screaming at the start.

In a blink of an eye, the students would hit the streets, crouching low, checking the map. Some ran for the nearest alley. Others scanned the road.

Kera found a wrench near a broken toolbox and hurled it into a rusted trash bin, making a loud clang!

The infected turned at once, groaning, shambling toward the noise.

"Yes!" she whispered.

Others followed suit—Selin hurled a glass bottle; Erik kicked a can down the sidewalk. The infected responded each time, like insects drawn to a flare.

One by one, they slipped past the distracted mobs, ducking behind abandoned cars and jumping over barriers.

And soon—they found them.

Buildings.

Office towers, old apartments, hollowed-out malls. Most had multiple floors. Some had broken walls, others locked doors. They chose carefully.

Some made it inside.

Some were just reaching the doors.

But then—

As they stepped inside, a chilling silence enveloped them.

Suddenly, a low growl echoed from the shadows—GROOOAAAHHHHHHH!

The students froze, realizing more infected were lurking within.

For the single-player mode: a lone infected, quiet, lurking in the dark corners, its movements slow but unpredictable.

For the multiplayer runs: entire small clusters—loud, aggressive, bigger than the ones outside.

The screens began to tremble.

Weapons were drawn again.

The students tensed.

The lesson wasn't over yet.

Nolan would comment, "that is when the real game begins."