Grand Arcanum Academy –
The lecture had ended, and the students of Grand Arcanum Academy's elite class slowly began filing out of the grand historical hall. Discussions filled the air, some students still mulling over Lady Selena Loventis' lecture on races, while others were more concerned with personal matters.
First to leave was leon. Later trio of Elaine, morganna and Evelyn also left.
Twin vampires disappeared before anyone noticing. Others also left short after .
Alistair Vaelthorne, however, remained silent.
His black eyes were as unreadable as ever, his thoughts far removed from the idle chatter of those around him.
Then, just as he was about to leave—
A faint, trembling voice reached his ears.
"Please... just let me pass."
Alistair stopped, but he didn't turn.
He already knew what was happening.
The first event.
The one that Leon Valerius was meant to use as his heroic introduction.
And he?
He had no intention of interfering.
*****
At the far end of the hall, just past the towering marble pillars, a small group of noble students had surrounded Serena Vale.
The Saintess of the commoners.
A girl born without noble blood, yet chosen by the goddess Lumina.
She stood meekly, her delicate hands clutching the edge of her priestess robes as she tried to hold her ground. Her blue eyes were filled with quiet resolve, yet there was a subtle tremor in her stance.
The ones blocking her way?
Three noble-born students—two young men and a girl—clad in ornate uniforms embroidered with golden sigils marking their prestigious families.
One of them, a tall, brown-haired boy with a crest of the Aurelius Duchy, sneered at her.
"A commoner, and yet sitting among us? Do you truly believe divine favor makes you our equal?"
Serena lowered her head slightly, her grip on her robes tightening.
"...I never said I was," she murmured.
"Then why are you here?" another noble sneered. A blonde girl with piercing green eyes. "This academy is for the elite, not some street-rat playing at being blessed."
The third, a shorter noble with sharp, rat-like features, let out a cruel laugh. "You think you belong here? How pathetic."
They weren't attacking her.
Not physically.
But words?
Words were enough.
For now.
Alistair walked past them without so much as a glance.
He had no interest in changing the story.
This was an event—one that had to happen.
If he stepped in now, it would alter the sequence of things.
This was the first step in Serena's suffering, the foundation that would lead to Leon Valerius' dramatic hero moment in the future.
A moment where he would swoop in, defend her, and cement himself as the knight in shining armor.
The perfect chance for Leon to collect his first Pokémon.
Alistair's lips curled slightly in amusement at his own thoughts.
He kept walking.
Leaving Serena Vale behind.
****
This was just the beginning.
As the days passed, the bullying would intensify.
Serena would be pushed further and further—isolated, mocked, and subtly tormented by the noble-born students who saw her existence as an offense to their superiority.
And just when she was at her lowest—
Just when she began to break—
Leon would step in.
A shining beacon of justice and righteousness, saving her from despair.
From that moment forward, Serena Vale would follow him with unwavering loyalty.
She would see him as her savior.
Her protector.
Her hero.
Alistair knew all of this.
As he left the hallway and stepped into the sunlit courtyard, he felt her gaze.
Serena.
Her trembling blue eyes had lifted, watching as he walked away.
Not with hatred.
Not even with disappointment.
Just... a quiet, sad understanding.
She never expected help.
And perhaps, that was the saddest thing of all.
Alistair didn't look back again.
He had no interest in being anyone's hero.
****
The Academy's Monster Simulation Facility was one of the most advanced training areas available to students.
A massive underground complex, reinforced with mana-reactive walls, allowing students to engage in realistic combat scenarios without the risk of permanent injury.
Here, one could face simulated monsters, adjusted in rank, numbers, and behavior, to hone their combat skills.
It was the perfect place to train.
And Alistair needed training.
****
The moment Alistair stepped into the main simulation hall, the conversations among the students halted.
Whispers replaced them.
"...It's him."
"The guy from the combat class..."
"The one who used Aura in his fight with Ignatius..."
He could feel their eyes on him.
Some were curious.
Others were wary.
Most were outright intimidated.
Then—someone moved aside.
And like a ripple effect, the others followed.
Without a word.
Without confrontation.
They simply moved.
Not out of respect.
Out of fear.
Alistair ignored them.
This was expected.
He stepped forward, approaching the simulation control panel where a glowing blue crystal interface awaited.
A magical projection appeared before him, listing various options.
[Simulation Settings]
> Monster Type: [Select]
Rank: [F]
Number: [100]
Environment: [Open Field]
Special Modifiers: [None]
100 F-Rank Goblins.
Weak, primitive creatures.
But the numbers would make up for it.
More importantly—
They were perfect for swordsmanship drills.
No magic.
No complicated techniques.
Just pure bladesmanship.
Perfect.
He confirmed the selection.
The simulation chamber hummed to life, the manasteel doors sliding open as the system acknowledged his request.
[Simulation Initialized – Enter the Combat Zone]
Alistair stepped inside.
And the battle began
The moment he crossed the threshold, the world shifted.
Mana-based reality reconstruction.
The smooth stone floor morphed into a dense forest clearing, illuminated by the eerie glow of an artificial moon.
Then—
The goblins spawned.
Emerging from the mist, their small, twisted bodies covered in filth and primitive armor, wielding rusted blades and crude spears.
Their red eyes locked onto him.
And in an instant—
They charged.
Alistair moved.
Not forward.
Not backward.
Sideways.
Step. Pivot. Strike.
His blade cut through the first goblin's throat before it could react, the creature gargling in shock before collapsing.
The others hesitated—but only for a moment.
Then they swarmed.
A wave of bodies, rushing him from all directions.
He exhaled.
Footwork.
That was the key.
He sidestepped, blade flashing.
One goblin fell, its skull split open.
Another lunged.
He twisted, his sword tracing an arc of silver, severing its arm before impaling it through the heart.
The rest didn't stop.
And neither did he.
It was mechanical.
Every movement.
Every strike.
Every kill.
A goblin lunged from his blind spot—he ducked, his blade ripping upward into its chest.
Another swung from the side—he pivoted, severing its leg before crushing its throat beneath his boot.
Five.
Ten.
Fifteen dead.
The ground became slick with blood, but the goblins kept coming.
Numbers were their only strength.
But to Alistair—
They were nothing.
His breath came steady.
His body burned.
This was what he needed.
Endurance. Stamina. Precision.
No wasted movements.
No unnecessary flourishes.
Just perfect execution.
But even so—
His muscles began to feel the strain.
Even he wasn't inexhaustible.
This was his limit.
Which meant—
It was time to end it.
He shifted his stance, lowering his body.
Deep breath.
And then—
He moved.
Like a ghost.
Like a storm.
He weaved through the remaining goblins like a blade through water.
Strike.
A head rolled.
Step.
A body collapsed.
Turn.
A sword pierced through a chest.
In seconds, the battle was over.
The last goblin tried to flee.
But Alistair was faster.
His sword sank into its back, ending it instantly.
Then—
Silence.
Only the sound of his breathing remained.
The battle was done.
****
A mechanical voice echoed.
[Simulation Cleared – 100/100 F-Rank Enemies Defeated]
The bloodied battlefield faded, replaced by the sterile stone of the simulation chamber.
Alistair stood still, letting his breathing slow, feeling the ache in his arms and legs.
He wiped the sweat from his brow.
This was good training.
But it wasn't enough.
As he stepped out of the simulation facility, students still lingered outside.
They had seen his selection.
They had heard the notification of completion.
100 kills.
Alone.
And with that, their fears only grew.
(To Be Continued...)