Chapter 108: High Stakes Gamble

"By the way, how’s your injury holding up?"

After the Pink Bear left looking thoroughly defeated to attend the inquiry meeting, Professor Garan dismissed the other instructors and turned to Professor Prang.

"A wound from a Holy Sword doesn’t exactly heal easily, does it?"

"There’s still about one-third of the sacred light lingering in my body. It hasn’t dissipated yet, and my chest still aches."

Professor Prang lowered his head, gently pressing his right chest.

"But it's only a matter of time before I recover completely. I may be old, but I’m not about to keel over just from this."

"Heh, tougher than I thought," Professor Garan raised an eyebrow.

"It’s one of the five Holy Swords of the Church of Life, after all. I figured you’d be bedridden for ten days, maybe half a month. Didn’t expect to see you up and bouncing around already."

"It’s not that my body’s tougher than expected," Professor Prang replied quietly. "It’s that the Holy Sword was weaker than expected."

"What?" Garan's expression twitched.

"Before she was completely taken over by the Love God, Belerena sealed the sword."

There was a complicated look on the old professor’s face.

"It was a trigger-type magical seal. If someone tried to forcefully break it, it would destroy the sword from the inside. So even the Love God had no choice but to use a version of the sword with more than half its power sealed."

"She exploited the Love God's lack of understanding of magic, huh."

Garan sighed.

"You had a good student, Prang."

"Who says I didn’t?"

Professor Prang turned his head, as if seeing her again—that girl who had smiled and disappeared after a brief greeting, now waving at him from afar.

"She was always a student I was proud of."

...

"Speaking of which, it seems Mentor Meladomir has vanished since then."

Garan placed the tea he brewed himself in front of Prang.

"Such a rare opportunity, too. I was hoping to ask her some questions about ancient alchemy."

"Don’t bother her. She’s very busy right now."

Prang sighed.

"After resolving the Evil God incident, the first thing she did was demand detailed information on all current students."

"Student information? You don’t mean—"

"Most likely."

He took a sip from the teacup.

"That’s her lifelong pursuit, after all. There’s no way she’d give up on it. But... the urgency this time makes me a little uneasy."

"Did we really affect her by waking her early?"

"Let’s not talk doom and gloom right now. If Mentor Meladomir hears this, she won’t be pleased."

Garan rolled his eyes and then, with some excitement, asked:

"What I’m really curious about is—who’s going to be the lucky one she chooses?"

"Lucky? Not necessarily."

Professor Prang stared at the floating tea stem in his cup and let out a bitter smile.

"That path is absolutely insane. A normal person who walks it is more likely to end up a pile of bones."

...

"Things sure quieted down all of a sudden."

In the stillness of the infirmary, Muen turned his head and looked out the window through the pale curtains.

The sun was bright.

From a short distance away, the sound of youthful laughter drifted in, full of life.

The entire academy seemed to have moved on from the recent chaos and found vitality again.

"Has that much time already passed?"

After that incident, Muen had been sent to this room for treatment because of his injuries—and also to be "quarantined" due to close contact with the monster tainted by the Love God.

Back then, Professor Garan’s healing spell had only been a quick magical patch-up. Given that a Crowned-tier individual had intervened, the academy decided to follow up with a full round of physical examinations to avoid leaving any complications behind.

What gave Muen some peace of mind was that, aside from that white-haired loli powerhouse, no one seemed able to detect the “Blessing” from the Withering King embedded in his body.

Which made sense—compared to the straightforward empowerment of a deity, being a God-Favored, a fragmental embodiment of divine authority itself, was naturally much harder to detect. Otherwise, Anne wouldn’t have spent ten years in the Campbell Ducal Estate without his discount-dad ever noticing anything off.

The fact that the white-haired loli saw through him instantly was the real anomaly—it should be treated as an exception.

If not for that, the person Muen would be dealing with now wouldn’t be some voluptuous, mature beauty with a fine figure, but those specialists from the Empire’s anti-Evil God task force—the Silent Ones.

Those shady bastards hiding in black robes all day wouldn’t give a damn about his status as a duke’s son. The moment he fell into their hands, there’d be nothing good waiting for Muen.

Fortunately, the worst didn’t come to pass.

During his time here, aside from doctors and professors sent by the Academy to ask some questions, no outsiders were allowed to come into contact with him.

In this near-total solitude, Muen finally had a chance to sort out his thoughts.

His exchange with the Black Book still felt like it had just happened.

“So, in the end... it’s because I was too weak, huh?”

After learning a new martial technique and defeating Rayne—one of the strongest second-years—Muen had thought things were finally turning around. He thought he might be able to escape the tragic, cannon-fodder fate of the yellow-haired villain.

But now it was clear—he’d been too optimistic.

If not for the Black Book forcibly derailing the trajectory of fate using the Evil God’s interference, he would have been met with certain death.

“To think... the only way to avoid a death flag was to mess up the entire world’s fate... just how much does this world hate me?”

Muen looked down at his hands and murmured softly.

“And in the end... the solution was just brute force again?”

Not strong enough.

That was the root of it all—why fate could keep mocking him.

If only he were stronger—stronger than even the protagonist Ariel.

Then maybe, even within the original fate line, he could’ve survived the Saintess under the Love God's control.

But that was all “if.”

Muen knew better. In the current reality, there was no way someone like him could gain that kind of power in just a year.

Ariel was already miles ahead of him—and she had everything: the protagonist halo, cheat buffs, and even a mysterious big sister who knew ancient magic living in her ring. She was, in every sense, a power-up trust fund baby.

And what did he have? Nothing.

Nothing but a nightly beatdown in the Black Book.

So why should someone like him ever catch up?

The Black Book knew it was impossible. That’s why it interfered with fate itself.

But Muen understood—there wouldn’t be a second time.

The next time fate’s malice descended, it would all be on him.

And that time wasn’t far off.

His second prophetic dream had already shown the ending: someone would dig out his heart and kill him.

So...

“Isn’t there anything that can make me stronger, faster?” Muen groaned in the dying cry of a salted fish gasping on land.

“Oh? So you want power, boy?”

A cold, indifferent voice rang out.

At his bedside—on the chair Hatherway had just used—a white-haired, red-eyed girl had appeared at some point, seated with an air of casual dominance.

“Huh?”

Muen jumped, but once he recognized who it was, he froze for a second, then quickly put on a slightly flustered, ingratiating smile.

“Big Boss? What brings you here?”

“Can’t I drop in to check on you?”

The girl twirled a strand of snowy hair with her finger, her expression lazy, like she’d just woken up from a nap.

“Of course you can! It’s just...”

Muen scratched his head, choosing his words carefully. “I just didn’t think someone like you would personally come visit me.”

There was no way he’d believe that just because he woke her up and pinched her cheek once, this loli-bodied boss would suddenly be all buddy-buddy with him.

This wasn’t one of those harem light novels where every girl just gave themselves away.

So obviously, she had a reason for coming.

“Smarter than I expected.”

Her amber-like eyes, clear enough to pierce right through a person, glanced his way. Then she smirked and asked:

“So, like I said before—do you want power, boy?”

“Eh?”

“I happen to be looking for a final disciple. Whoever becomes that person will receive power and knowledge from me—freely given. So, are you interested, boy?”

“A final... disciple.”

Muen mulled over the weight of those words, briefly stunned.

This girl, though she looked like a child, wasn’t just some random girl—she was the top-tier powerhouse who had been slumbering in a special dimension within the Academy, capable of driving off even Evil Gods.

In the original story, she shouldn’t have shown up until much later, but because of the Black Book’s meddling, she’d been forced into the narrative early.

If he could cling to her thigh—this was hands down the best possible development. It might just be his chance to break free from his destined tragedy.

But...

He, Muen Campbell—wasn’t about to get handed a miracle that easily, was he?

“So... why me?”

Muen returned to himself, his lake-blue eyes locking tightly onto the white-haired girl.

“Why would you choose me? Because of the Withering King’s power inside me?”

“Withering King? Hm... that’s part of the reason.”

“Part? Then what’s the rest...?”

“Hehe...”

The girl suddenly smiled.

But that smile made Muen’s skin crawl.

She raised one hand and extended a finger—pointing straight at him.

Instantly, a wave of dread crashed down.

An intense sense of crisis, followed by a nauseating premonition of death, flooded Muen’s consciousness.

At some point, the world turned blood red.

And all Muen could see—was that girl’s face twisting into a demonic grin and the real killing intent behind her eyes.

“What’s going on—was she planning to kill me all along?”

That thought barely had time to form before it was swallowed.

Because that finger had already reached him.

It felt like a mountain was collapsing onto his chest. Muen could feel it—he was about to be crushed.

“Guh—!”

A catastrophic injury struck his body instantly. He coughed up a mouthful of blood—along with chunks of internal organs.

Death was imminent.

And in that moment, he felt something cold in his palm.

Like the hilt of a knife.

Without hesitation, Muen gripped the familiar short blade and slashed toward the ghost-like girl before him.

“How foolish.”

The girl sneered.

“You think you can ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ survive this?”

Even before the blade connected, Muen’s arm suddenly felt hollow.

He glanced in a daze—everything below his elbow was already gone.

No, not disassembled like a toy this time.

Exploded.

That’s right. His forearm, hand, and fingers burst into a cloud of blood mist in an instant.

The agony was unimaginable.

Muen’s face contorted into a feral snarl.

But he ignored it. He had to. Pain like this would make most people pass out immediately—but after countless deaths in the Black Book, he was used to it.

He quickly reached out with his other hand and grabbed the falling blade.

And swung again!

BOOM!

No surprise. His other arm below the elbow exploded too, just like before.

“Why struggle?” the girl asked softly, almost pitying.

“If you’d just stop resisting, I could give you a painless death.”

Why struggle?

Why not just die?

Looking at the sympathy on her face, a volcanic rage suddenly surged in Muen’s chest.

He had fought this long.

He had died so many times in the Black Book.

He had grown used to death, used to pain, always thinking about getting stronger.

All of it—for one reason only:

—So he wouldn’t die for real.

So what—you want me to give up?

You want me to just die?

I—can—go—fuck—your—self!

Even if you're a big shot, even if you're strong, you don't have the right!

Muen suddenly lunged forward like a beast and bit down on the hilt of his short blade.

His eyes burned red, a low growl rising from his throat. Without the slightest hesitation, he charged the enemy before him—an opponent he had no chance of defeating.

Even if I die, I’ll still...!

In that instant—

The world cleared.

The bloody hue vanished. The demonic face of the girl disappeared like a bad dream.

Warm sunlight filtered through the curtains, spilling across Muen’s still-twisted, snarling face—so bright he could hardly open his eyes.

“This is...?”

The blade in his mouth was gone. His arms were whole.

It was as if none of it—none of that nightmare—had actually happened.

Muen was still frozen mid-pounce, but in that posture, he no longer looked like a beast going for the kill—he looked more like some ancient creep about to pounce on a minor.

"Yep, just like that."

The girl didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by Muen’s sudden proximity. Instead, she cupped his face in her hands and studied his contorted expression with a satisfied, almost artistic gaze.

“This contrast—so sheepish on the outside, yet so vicious in your bones. This paradox of someone who cherishes life yet has grown used to death. That wildness and fearlessness... this is what I want. Only with that... can it be done.”

“...Huh?”

Muen was still dazed.

But he was starting to get it. The killing intent earlier—it was all an illusion. She’d been testing him.

Still, even for a top-tier big shot—wasn’t this kind of prank a bit much!?

Muen snapped, “What the hell do you even want from me!?”

“Hehe, angry now? That's fair.”

She smiled sweetly and said,

“But since you’re asking, and I’m not really the roundabout type—I’ll just say it plainly.

—I want to use you, Muen Campbell.”

“What?”

Muen froze again.

That... was way too straightforward.

“So... the whole ‘disciple’ thing is just because—”

“Exactly. If you become my disciple, I’ll do everything a teacher is supposed to do. But at the same time, you’ll be my experimental subject. I’ll use you completely... to fulfill one of my life’s goals.”

Her eyes gleamed—not with childlike innocence, but with fanatical obsession that didn’t match her appearance at all.

“One of my... lifelong obsessions.”

“This feels... off.”

Muen narrowed his eyes at the girl, who seemed to have completely transformed.

“So what, I’m just a lab rat to you?”

“Mhm. Lab rat’s a good way to put it.”

She nodded with a faint laugh.

“But unlike a normal lab rat, the process will be just a little dangerous. But if you succeed—”

The girl chuckled.

“Muen Campbell, you’ll gain the power you’ve always dreamed of.”

“The power I’ve always...”

Muen swallowed hard.

Those words hit him like a bell toll.

And honestly, he didn’t think someone of her level would lie.

But still—

“May I ask, just how likely is it that this... lifelong pursuit of yours will succeed?”

“No idea.”

“No... idea?”

“Because what I’m attempting has never been done before. I have nothing to reference. So the chances of success could be 100%. Or zero.”

She met his eyes squarely, voice serious.

“Until it’s complete, even I don’t know if this path can be walked.”

“So what you’re saying...” Muen blinked.

“Exactly. It’s a gamble. For me, I’m gambling on whether this path I’ve chased all my life can be realized... and whether you—the one I’ve chosen—can bear it.

And for you, the gamble is whether I’m worth trusting. Whether the outcome will be worth it or a complete disaster.

So—”

She extended her hand to him. In her crystal-clear red eyes, a fire unlike anything from this era burned—pure, wild, and full of fervor.

“Will you join this gamble, boy?”

“...”

Muen fell into deep thought.

He didn’t think this girl was trying to screw him over. If she wanted him dead, she could’ve crushed him with a finger back in the flower field.

So just like she said, this was a gamble that even she couldn’t see the end of.

She chose him—just because he fit the role.

So... should he agree?

Should he accept this path into the unknown—a gamble against fate?

Muen thought for a long moment—and found his answer.

Because the Black Book had already taught him what to do.

He wasn’t someone who belonged to normal fate.

If he wanted to break the shackles of that fate—he had to take an abnormal path.

And just like the girl said, he really, really, really, really wanted that power.

That momentary illusion from earlier had only made him realize how helpless he still was.

So there was no point in hesitating.

She’d made it sound like a choice—but the moment she appeared, throwing bait after bait—Muen had no way to refuse.

Like a moth lost in the dark, chasing after firelight—even knowing it might not bring salvation—he had to fly straight in.

“I’m willing to join—hm?”

Muen reached out his hand—but grabbed nothing.

She’d already pulled hers back. And on her face was a cryptic smile.

“I’m glad you feel that way. But sorry, boy—I don’t teach idiots.”

“...Hah?”

Muen was floored by the sudden verbal gut-punch, like a cat being cooed at one second and uppercutted the next.

His brain spun.

“Id... idiot? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I looked into your grades before coming here. Last time you took Magic Fundamentals, you got a three.”

Her eyes went ice-cold, like she was looking at a piece of trash.

“That’s a score so low, a muddy footprint on the answer sheet might’ve earned more.”

“T-That was just me slacking off last semester...”

Muen looked away awkwardly.

“I-I’ll work hard from now on. I can catch up... slowly.”

“I believe you can,” she said. “But I don’t have the luxury of waiting. My time isn’t as abundant as you think. If it were, I wouldn’t be coming to you like this.”

She glanced at her own small hands and sighed.

“So... I’ll give you one month.”

“One month?”

Muen’s face froze. “The first-years’ monthly exam?”

“Second-year monthly exam,” she replied, stone-faced.

“That's—!?”

Muen’s eyes went wide. “You want me to learn a whole year’s—no, a year and a month’s worth of material in one month? That’s insane!”

“That’s your problem.”

She gave him a pointed look.

“All I can say is... good luck, boy.”

She rose and turned her head.

Through layers of walls, her gaze pierced toward a certain flat-chested girl who, just a few days ago, had been wrapped like a mummy but was now laughing and messing around with her childhood friend.

Even from a distance, the aura surrounding that girl was far from ordinary.

“You’re special—but you’re not the only one. I can’t bet everything on just you. You’re one of several options.”

She turned back to Muen, her eyes cold again.

“One month from now—show me your answer through your actual results, Muen Campbell.

This is my test for you.”

She turned to leave.

“Wait.”

Muen called after her.

“Your name... I can’t keep calling you Big Boss forever.”

“My name?”

The white-haired girl showed a hint of melancholy and sighed.

“That thing’s long since been washed away in the river of time.

But if you need something to call me—Meladomir.

That’s my surname. You may call me... Melara.

'Melara-sensei.'

I’ve grown tired of being called ‘Mentor.’”