The adrenaline of the arena didn’t fade immediately. It lingered in the air, thick and metallic, long after the bisected corpse of the A-rank Chimera was hauled away.

Arthur left the colosseum without looking back, ignoring the terrified, awe-struck stares of the first-years and the frantic scribbling of the Archmages in the VIP boxes. He had made his point. The Vanguard squad was his.

By the time he returned to the S-Class dormitories, the sun had already dipped below the horizon, casting the academy grounds in deep shades of violet and gold.

The dorms were unusually quiet. Most students were either in the infirmary recovering from the day’s brutal drills or locked in their rooms, entirely traumatized by the new curriculum.

Arthur walked into his private room, locking the door behind him with a heavy click.

He didn’t bother turning on the lights. He simply unbuttoned his blood-speckled uniform collar, dropped onto the edge of his repaired bed, and let out a long, steady breath.

"System," Arthur muttered.

A sleek, glowing blue interface materialized in the dim room, illuminating his face.

[Status Window] Name: Arthur Ludwig Level: 48 Titles: The Anomaly, Beast Tamer, Conqueror of the Abyss Kill Points (KP): 14,500 Eroge Points (EP): 72,300

Arthur smirked. The points had been stockpiling at a terrifying rate.

The Devil’s Forest massacre, the Black Hand assassins, and today’s absolute annihilation of the B-rank monsters and the Chimera had flooded his Kill Points. But the Eroge Points? Those were the direct, highly lucrative results of his relentless nights with Alicia, Eveline, and Althea, combined with the psychological and physical subjugation of the dorm warden this morning.

He cracked his knuckles. It was time to spend.

"Allocate 10,000 KP into raw physical stats. Split evenly between Agility and Vitality," Arthur commanded. "If the frontlines in the North are as bad as they say, I need the stamina to fight for days without sleep."

[Ding! Agility has increased by 15. Vitality has increased by 15.] [Host’s physical endurance has reached a new threshold. Minor Regeneration Skill acquired.]

A sudden, intense rush of heat flushed through Arthur’s veins. His muscles tightened, micro-tears from the day’s combat instantly sealing themselves. He breathed in, feeling lighter, faster, and infinitely more durable.

"Now for the EP," Arthur murmured, scrolling through the System Shop.

He bypassed the cheap aphrodisiacs and stamina potions. He didn’t need them. His eyes landed on the passive skill trees.

[Purchase: Advanced Observer’s Gaze - 10,000 EP] (Allows the host to perceive not just surface emotions, but deep-seated psychological traumas and magical vulnerabilities.)

[Purchase: Sensual Pheromones (Tier 3) - 8,000 EP] (The host’s natural scent now subconsciously lowers the mental defenses and accelerates the arousal of targeted females within a ten-meter radius. Highly addictive.) 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

"Purchase both."

[Ding! 18,000 EP deducted. Skills Acquired.]

Arthur closed the interface as the new knowledge and passive abilities seamlessly integrated into his mind and body. The air around him seemed to grow heavier, carrying a dark, intoxicating magnetism that was impossible to ignore.

A soft knock interrupted the silence.

Arthur didn’t need to ask who it was. The heavy, volatile mana leaking through the wood of the door gave it away instantly.

He stood up and opened the door.

Nadia Mystic stood in the dimly lit hallway.

She wasn’t wearing her academy uniform. She wore a simple, loose black dress that contrasted sharply with her pale skin. Her deep violet eyes stared up at him from beneath her dark bangs. As usual, the cursed, chaotic mana of the Mystic family swirled around her like an invisible, defensive shroud. Most students couldn’t even stand within five feet of her without feeling nauseous or physically ill.

Arthur didn’t even flinch. He leaned casually against the doorframe.

"Nadia," Arthur said smoothly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

She didn’t speak immediately. Her violet eyes scanned his face, dropping down to his exposed collarbone, before returning to his eyes.

"You didn’t use your light affinities in the arena," Nadia said, her voice quiet but piercing. "You used the black sword. The dark mana."

"I did."

"Why?"

"Because it was efficient," Arthur replied, crossing his arms. "And because I don’t care about hiding it anymore."

Nadia looked down at her own hands. Small, dark tendrils of curse magic licked across her pale knuckles. It was a burden she had carried her entire life. The cursed heir. The girl everyone feared. The girl who isolated herself because her very existence brought misfortune to those who touched her.

"Everyone else looked at you like you were a monster when you cut that Chimera in half," Nadia whispered, stepping half a pace closer.

Arthur tilted his head. "And what did you see, Nadia?"

She looked up, her violet eyes locking onto his golden ones. There was no fear in her gaze. Only a deep, resonant fascination. A twisted kind of recognition.

"I saw someone like me," she answered honestly. "Someone who belongs in the dark."

Arthur’s gaze softened—not with pity, but with absolute understanding. He knew the crushing weight of isolation she carried. He knew exactly what she needed.

He didn’t offer her empty words of comfort.

Instead, Arthur reached out.

Nadia flinched instinctively, squeezing her eyes shut. "Don’t. The curse—"

Arthur’s hand ignored the volatile, toxic mana completely. His fingers brushed against her pale cheek, cupping her face gently.

Nadia gasped. Her eyes snapped open.

The curse magic didn’t burn him. It didn’t rot his flesh or drain his life force. The abyssal aura naturally radiating from Arthur simply swallowed her chaotic mana, neutralizing it instantly.

For the first time in years, someone was touching her skin to skin, and they weren’t in pain.

"Your curse doesn’t work on me, Nadia," Arthur murmured, his thumb slowly stroking her cheekbone. "I told you. I’m the one who decides what hurts me. And you? You don’t hurt me."

Nadia’s breath hitched. The impenetrable walls of ice and isolation she had built around her heart cracked right down the middle. She leaned into his palm, her eyes fluttering shut as a single, silent tear slipped down her cheek.

"Arthur..." she whispered, her voice trembling with a vulnerability no one else in the academy had ever seen.

"You’re in my squad now," Arthur said, his voice a low, comforting rumble. "You don’t have to fight from the shadows anymore. Stand behind me, cast your curses, and let me handle the rest. Understand?"

Nadia nodded slowly, opening her eyes. The dark, volatile mana around her settled into a calm, peaceful hum. The look she gave him wasn’t just admiration. It was absolute, unwavering devotion.

"Good," Arthur smiled faintly, dropping his hand. "Get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be worse."

Nadia lingered for a second, her fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of his shirt. She offered him a small, incredibly rare smile before disappearing down the hallway.

Arthur watched her go, thoroughly satisfied. The cursed heir was officially his.

He turned back into his room, closing the door.

But as he walked toward his desk, he noticed something that hadn’t been there when he first arrived.

Resting perfectly in the center of his desk was a pristine black envelope.

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t felt anyone enter his room. No mana fluctuations. No footsteps.

He walked over and picked it up. The envelope was sealed with dark red wax, stamped with the insignia of a crossed sword and shield. It pulsed with a faint, highly condensed magical signature.

He broke the seal. A single piece of heavy parchment slid out.

The handwriting was sharp, elegant, and uncompromisingly aggressive.

Arthur,

Your performance in the arena today was adequate. You have proven you can swing a sword and let your birds do the heavy lifting. But do not mistake raw destructive power for mastery. The Northern Borders will break you if you rely solely on brute force. As your master, it is my duty to ensure that you don’t drag my name in the mud.

Report to my estate this Saturday at 0600 hours. Clear your schedule for the entire weekend. Tell no one.

Come prepared to bleed.

— Instructor Samantha Hall

Arthur read the letter twice.

He didn’t frown. He didn’t feel a shred of anxiety.

Instead, a dark, wicked grin spread across his face, revealing a flash of his teeth.

Oh... training at the master’s estate.

He recalled the last time he went to her estate for "personal training." The memory of her strict, demanding exterior breaking down beneath his overwhelming stamina flooded his mind.

A perverted smile settled on his face.

"It’s been a long time, Master."