I Don't Need To Log Out

The players exchanged surprised looks. From her clumsy entrance, they'd assumed Aila was timid, the kind of character who would avoid confrontation. But she had just stood her ground without a second thought.

They'd forgotten an important detail: this was the most prestigious academy in all of Trion.

Everyone here had earned their place through extraordinary effort. Aila might be a bit of a klutz, but she was no pushover.

"Don't mind him," Aila said brightly, brushing off the encounter. "Everyone's just on edge because of Hell Week."

"Okay, but seriously, what is Hell Week?" Evan asked again, his tone tinged with frustration.

Aila only chuckled, as if enjoying keeping them in suspense. "You'll find out soon enough," she teased, leading them further into the academy grounds.

As they walked, she told them about various buildings.

She gestured to a distant, shabby-looking shack on the outskirts of the campus. "Oh, and over there is the necromancer building."

The players stared at the dilapidated structure in disbelief. It looked abandoned, with cracked walls and a crooked roof.

"Why does it look like… that?" Maria asked hesitantly.

Aila shrugged. "It's empty. Necromancers can only become strong after leveling up significantly, so there aren't any young necromancers capable of joining the academy. Don't worry, though—they have their own schools."

She moved on, pointing out other buildings. "You don't need to memorize where everything is," she assured them. "You'll only be here for a week, and lessons are all held together in the main hall.

These other buildings are for specialized training, so the students can focus on mastering their individual classes."

The academy grounds were alive with activity. Trionian children of various races darted between buildings, chatting, practicing spells, or sparring with each other.

The players couldn't help but marvel at the diversity of students. But there also was a gloomy air for some reason.

As they passed a training yard, a group of Beastman students sparred fiercely, their claws flashing in the sunlight.

Nearby, a young elf levitated a series of shimmering crystals in intricate patterns, drawing gasps from onlookers.

"It's impressive, isn't it?" Aila asked, noticing their awe. "Cardon Academy gathers the best of the best from all over Trion. Every student here is destined to shape the future of our world."

The players felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

They had been thrown into the most elite institution in Trion, and Hell Week loomed ominously ahead. Whatever it entailed, they would soon find out.

---

After traversing a long, ornately decorated hall, the group came to a massive set of double doors.

Aila stepped forward and knocked gently. The sound echoed faintly in the quiet corridor.

The group waited for a response, but instead of hearing a "Come in," the heavy doors creaked open on their own, seemingly of their own accord.

Arlon glanced around, expecting to see someone pulling the doors from within, but there was no one. The grand entryway yawned open as if inviting them inside.

Must be magic, he thought, though he wasn't sure whether to admire it or feel uneasy.

"Miss Cika, I've brought the guests," Aila called out as she stepped inside.

The chamber beyond was vast but surprisingly minimalistic. A circular table sat at the center, surrounded by chairs, and shelves lined the walls, filled with scrolls and tomes.

The air shimmered faintly with a golden hue, and an almost imperceptible hum of energy filled the room.

The only person present was a diminutive figure perched on a floating cushion at the far end of the table.

She was a Fairy, no taller than an average human head, but the sheer weight of her presence made her feel far larger.

Her silver wings caught the light, glinting like polished glass, and her gaze was sharp and calculating.

This was Cika, the head teacher of Cardon Academy—one of the strongest beings in Trion, despite her size.

"Thank you, Aila. You may return to your duties," Cika said in a soft yet commanding voice, her words tinged with warmth.

Aila bowed slightly and excused herself, glancing back briefly at the players before disappearing through the still-open doors.

Once Aila had left, Cika turned her attention to the group.

"Welcome to Cardon Academy," she began, her tone neutral yet firm. "I trust Lord Zephyrion has already provided you with an overview of our institution."

Her expression remained unreadable—neither harsh nor particularly welcoming. It was the face of someone used to wielding authority and being listened to.

"Since he was the one who insisted you join us for this week, I am inclined to believe you possess great potential—perhaps even enough to meet our academy's rigorous standards."

Her sharp gaze swept over the players, lingering on each of them just long enough to make them slightly uncomfortable.

"Please, do not feel like outsiders here," she continued, her voice softening slightly. "As long as you conduct yourselves with respect and avoid tarnishing the name of Cardon Academy, you will be treated as equals during your stay."

The players bowed their heads in gratitude, murmuring their thanks.

Cika's demeanor shifted slightly, her shoulders relaxing and her expression softening. "Now that the formalities are out of the way," she said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips, "let's discuss your schedule for the week."

The players perked up, paying closer attention.

"At Cardon Academy, we make no distinction between classes. Everyone, regardless of their chosen field, takes the same foundational lessons together. This encourages cooperation and mutual respect among our students.

However," she added, "physical training and examinations are adapted to fit the needs of each individual class.

These, too, are often collaborative, as we believe that diversity in ability is the key to true strength."

She paused, letting her words sink in before continuing.

"You have arrived during a particularly significant time. For the next four days, you will attend theoretical and practical lessons alongside our students.

On Friday, you will take part in the examinations. In short, this is what the students fondly refer to as 'exam week.'"

At the mention of "exam week," the players exchanged glances. Recognition dawned across their faces as the term "Hell Week" came to mind.

"So that's what it meant," Evan whispered under his breath, earning a few quiet chuckles from the others.

Cika's sharp ears picked up the comment, but she chose not to address it. Instead, she continued, her tone unwavering.

"Of course, the staff would never call it something so melodramatic," she said with a faint smirk, as if aware of the nickname. "Regardless, I expect you to participate fully and give your utmost effort. You are, after all, representatives of Lord Zephyrion himself."

Her words carried an unspoken challenge, and the players felt the weight of her expectations settle on their shoulders.

"Any questions?" Cika asked, her wings shimmering faintly as she leaned back on her cushion.

The players glanced at one another but shook their heads. They knew they'd learn more soon enough—and they weren't eager to test the patience of someone as powerful as Cika.

"Good. Then you're dismissed for now. Aila should have already shown you around. Your first lesson will start in an hour. Ah, you are in the same class as Aila as third years," Cika said with finality, waving a hand toward the doors, which creaked open once more as if alive.