Vol3 Chapter 10 That way.

"FREE LOOT!"

Twenty-one applicants looked up.

"...?"

A blond young man drifted down from the sky. For a moment, no one moved. Amos’s coat billowed behind him, his golden hair glinting in the sunlight. His face was calm—majestic, almost noble. Then, one of the applicants pointed up.

"WHO THE HELL IS THAT?!"

Another looked closer. His face went pale.

"KYROS!"

Amos smiled.

"Hello."

Then he landed.

BOOOOOOOOOOM!

The ground exploded. Dust erupted across the battlefield.

"MY EYES!"

"FORMATION!"

"PROTECT THE ITEM!"

"FORGET THE ITEM, PROTECT YOUR BADGES!"

Too late. Amos had begun moving.

Click.

Flash.

One.

The first applicant disappeared before realizing what was going on. Amos twisted just as a spear whizzed past his head. He grabbed the shaft, gave it a sharp pull, and sent the wielder stumbling forward.

Click.

Flash.

Two.

"BEHIND HIM!"

A fireball erupted. Amos ducked. The spell struck another applicant.

"YOU IDIOT!"

"SORRY!"

Amos appeared between them.

Click.

Click.

Flash.

Flash.

Four.

The remaining applicants froze.

"..."

Amos's eyes gleamed.

Eighteen players.

One item.

Everyone grouped together.

This was beautiful.

"GET HIM!"

The entire battlefield erupted.

***

High above, the academy viewing halls descended into chaos.

"HE JUMPED INTO TWENTY-ONE PEOPLE!"

"THERE WERE TWENTY-ONE!"

"THERE ARE SEVENTEEN NOW!"

"Sixteen!"

"FIFTEEN!"

"WHY IS THE NUMBER DROPPING SO FAST?!"

One senior student stood on his chair.

"THE ITEM! SOMEONE TAKE THE ITEM!"

Another screamed back.

"THEY'RE TRYING!"

On the screen, Amos casually stepped over a fallen sword.

A lightning spell passed behind him. He tilted his body.

Another missed.

He caught an applicant's wrist and turned to use him as a temporary obstacle against another attacker.

Click.

Flash.

"Fourteen!"

Amos was having the time of his life.

"Left."

He ducked, as a sword passed overhead.

"Right."

He stepped aside. A spear missed.

"Behind."

Amos turned.

Click.

Flash.

"...Thank you."

"STOP LETTING HIM TAKE THE BADGES!"

"We're not letting him!"

A mage raised both hands.

"EVERYONE MOVE!"

A massive spell circle appeared. Amos looked up.

"OHHHH."

BOOOOOOOOM!

Fire consumed the battlefield. The applicants cheered.

"WE GOT HIM!"

Then, a voice came from beside the mage.

"That was really cool."

"..."

The mage slowly turned. Amos stood beside him. His coat was slightly burned at the edge. Nothing more.

"...How?"

Amos removed his badge.

Click.

"Good question."

Flash.

Gone.

Three minutes later.

Smoke drifted over the battlefield, where broken weapons lay scattered among small craters pocking the ground. At the center, the temporary item still floated, and Amos—Amos stood alone. Well, almost. One last applicant remained: the twenty-first.

A young man hides behind a rock, hand clamped over his mouth. Don’t breathe. Don’t move. Don’t think. Maybe Kyros would pass by. Footsteps drew closer. Tap. Tap. Tap. The applicant squeezed his eyes shut. The steps halted. Silence. Then—Amos’s head slowly rose above the rock.

"Hello."

"AAAAAAAAAH!"

Click.

Flash.

Gone.

Amos blinked, stood up, and glanced around. Twenty applicants were gone. He slowly counted the remaining badges.

"Twenty."

His eyes widened slightly.

"Nice."

He stored them.

He immediately turned toward the floating object, his expression shifting to one of seriousness, almost reverence. It looked like a small silver bracelet, and then floating letters began to appear.

TEMPORARY ITEM ACQUIRED

PHANTOM STEP

Effect: Allows the user to perform three instantaneous short-range movements.

Remaining Charges: 3

Amos stared.

"...That's underwhelming"

No one answered. Amos equipped the bracelet.

"Fine."

CRASH!

Something burst through the distant forest. Amos turned.

"...?"

A figure appeared—fast, incredibly fast—and closed the gap with a powerful leap.

BOOM!

The ground split, sending up a cloud of dust. Amos watched as the figure stood tall—a young woman with a strong build, striking eyes, and features that instantly set her apart from any of the human applicants he had seen before horns and tail.

"..."

Amos blinked as the noticeboard flashed through his mind. Lucra. Dragonfolk. Oh. So, this was her. She glanced around, her eyes darting quickly left, right, behind Amos, toward the ruined battlefield, and finally back to him.

"..."

Amos stared back.

"Hello?"

Lucra stepped forward.

"Did you see someone like me?"

Amos blinked.

"Like you?"

"A dragonfolk."

Her answer came immediately.

"Someone with dragon blood."

"..."

Dragonfolk? Here? His thoughts drifted back. He recalled that brief moment—the ring removed, the world unfolding, hundreds of mana traces in red, blue, and green. Applicants, monsters, hidden signatures, fading trails. Among them was something distant, something strange. He hadn’t paid it much attention at the time—there had been too many traces—but now, remembering, Amos turned his gaze toward the western forest.

"...Maybe."

Lucra froze.

"What?"

Amos pointed.

"I think I saw something over there."

Her eyes widened.

"Someone?"

Amos shrugged honestly.

"Possibly."

Lucra stepped closer.

"What did they look like?"

"..."

Amos thought.

Then shook his head.

"Couldn't see clearly."

That was true. He had noticed traces but never faces.

"How far?"

"Quite far."

"Direction?"

Amos pointed more precisely.

"That way."

Lucra followed the direction of his finger toward the western forest. Beyond it lay a river, several rocky hills, and another zone. Her expression shifted completely—excitement, hope, and recognition lighting her face.

"...I knew it."

Amos blinked.

"Knew what?"

Lucra smiled.

"There is another one."

"Another what?"

But she was already moving.

"Thank you!"

Amos raised one hand.

"You're welcome?"

BOOM!

Lucra sprang away, shaking the trees as startled birds scattered. In moments, she disappeared into the forest, leaving Amos standing alone.

"..."

He slowly lowered his hand.

He glanced in the direction she had gone, apparently on the hunt for another dragonfolk. It made sense—probably. Maybe one really was out there. This year’s applicants were ridiculously varied: humans, elves, beastmen, dragonfolk… who knew what else? Amos turned his gaze toward the distant forest.

"..."

He genuinely hoped she found whoever she was looking for.

"Good luck."

He nodded solemnly.

Then turned away.

His attention returned to the player count.

PLAYER COUNT

564

Amos's eyes widened.

"...I got distracted."

The number changed.

560

557

His competitive spirit immediately returned.

"No."

He glanced toward the lingering mana traces, some still vivid in his mind. Groups. Players. Monsters. Items. Amos’s smile grew wider.

"I'm falling behind."

He crouched low, mana swirling around him. Then—he hesitated.

"...Wait."

A strange thought crossed his mind.

Lucra had asked if he’d seen another dragonfolk.

Amos glanced in the direction she had gone.

"..."

For some reason—

It felt like something had slipped his mind.

Something obvious.

Painfully obvious.

He paused to think.

One second.

Two.

Three.

"...Nah."

He dismissed it. If it were important, he would remember. Probably.

BOOOOOOM!

Amos launched himself toward the next group of applicants.

***

Far away, Lucra ran—fast, then faster. Her heart thudded in her chest. He had noticed something. The blond human’s gaze locked exactly where she’d sensed the presence. That confirmed it. She wasn’t imagining things. Someone was there. Kin. Someone with dragon blood. A presence so powerful it stirred her own from an impossible distance. Lucra smiled.

"Wait for me."

She accelerated.

BOOM!

And far behind her, well out of sight, the true source of that presence was busy swiping the badges from three unsuspecting applicants.

Click.

Flash.

Click.

Flash.

Click.

Flash.

Amos counted them.

"...That is three more."

He smiled.

Completely unaware, Lucra kept searching while Amos kept hunting. High above the simulation, a professor watched two separate screens—one showing Lucra racing west, the other showing Amos moving east.

The professor frowned.

"..."

Then looked toward Rusell.

"Vice Principal."

Rusell glanced over.

"Yes?"

The professor pointed at the screens.

"Why didn't they fight?"

"Temporary peace perhaps."

The professor stared at him.

"You really are enjoying this examination."

Rusell did not answer.