A ripple of offense stirred among the students, what did he say? What? We are easy to frighten? Though none dared to speak up loudly, their pride was pricked, but fortunately, their teacher Granfire was with them.
Granfire's face froze, then twisted into a grin. "Really? Why don't you test them, then?"
His tone was confident, smug, as if daring Nolan to try.
"I already trained them using swords. They've been through simulated life-and-death situations. They won't break easily."
Nolan raised an eyebrow. "Did you say scare them?"
"Yes." Granfire took a step forward and then, with all the performative grandeur of a man used to being listened to, he began:
"If you claim these students are easy to frighten, then you must live up to that claim. But don't think for a second it will be easy, Nolan."
He spread his arms wide, pacing slowly like a lecturer before a crowd.
"These students were trained under me. I spent personal funds—my own coin—to hire top-tier Novice Mana Knights from the Silver Blade City. You know how expensive that is, don't you, Nolan?
"Each of them has crossed blades with professionals who have fought in real warzones. They've been woken in the dead of night, forced to duel in pitch-black forests, dragged through bone-chilling rains, and made to meditate under extreme mana pressure until their noses bled.
"I threw them into rooms full of illusions designed to simulate death and agony. Some of them fainted. One almost soiled himself. But none quit. None. And now you stand there and say… they're easy to frighten?"
Granfire's voice rose slightly, almost vibrating with zeal. "I taught them to recognize fear. To embrace it. To crush it beneath their boots! Their minds are sharpened weapons. Their hearts are no longer soft. They are warriors in training, molded with blood, sweat, and a discipline you couldn't begin to understand."
He pointed at Nolan. "You? You were a joke. A pitiful excuse of a teacher. Don't think I forgot how they laughed when your own students couldn't even cast a basic Mana Fortify spell."
Granfire took a breath and composed himself. "That's why I say this—not to humiliate you again—but to spare you. There's no need to embarrass yourself further. Just admit you're not equipped to handle this, and walk away."
The room was silent. A few students looked uncertain now, others confident in Granfire's words. Some sneered at Nolan with quiet smugness.
But Nolan remained unmoving. Calm as ever. That same unreadable, almost bored expression on his face.
Then, he spoke.
"Interesting," Nolan said softly. "I wonder if that's true."
Granfire's lips pressed into a thin line. He squinted at Nolan, studying him more intently. Something wasn't right.
Why wasn't he reacting?
In the past, Nolan would've stammered by now. Would've lowered his head or tried to explain himself with some weak excuse. Granfire had watched him get mocked, berated, cornered in public more times than he could count.
And yet now… Nolan didn't even blink.
Was he pretending? Faking this new-found composure just to avoid further shame?
Granfire scoffed to himself. Yes, that must be it. This was just a mask. A desperate, pathetic mask. He'd learned how to avoid humiliation by acting as though he didn't care.
But Granfire had no desire to destroy him again—not completely. There was no honor in crushing a broken man. So he softened his tone, just enough to sound almost benevolent.
"Perhaps it's better if you don't do it," Granfire said, almost kindly. "I'll teach them instead. There's no need to make this harder on you than it already is."
Nolan slowly turned his head toward him. His eyes were calm. His expression is unreadable.
Then he said—quietly, calmly, without raising his voice, "Who said I won't live up to my claim?"
Granfire blinked, confusion wrinkling his forehead. He studied Nolan's expression, searching for a crack, a flicker of doubt—anything to latch onto and declare this was a bluff. But Nolan's gaze was even, his face unreadable.
His tone had been so casual, too casual that he's started feeling some doubt.
"Are you serious?" Granfire asked, voice edged with disbelief.
Nolan nodded as if the question bored him. "Of course I am. I'm paid by them. Why wouldn't I take it seriously?"
Granfire narrowed his eyes.
That didn't sound like the Nolan he used to humiliate during instructor sparring sessions.
The Nolan who was always trying too hard to prove something. This version… this Nolan wasn't trying to prove anything. He simply was.
Still, Granfire wasn't ready to back down. "How about this," he said with a smirk. "Let's make it interesting. I'll bet you 150 Magic Crystals. Deal?"
Nolan raised an eyebrow. That was a lot. More than he'd ever seen in his possession. But he had nothing to match it.
"Why would I bet something to you when you're the outsider here?" he asked, coolly.
The smirk on Granfire's face faltered. He glanced around.
The students.
The classroom.
The unfamiliar air that surrounded him, despite all his confidence. He might have been invited as a guest, but it was clear who had the floor now.
He cleared his throat. "Fine. You don't have to put anything up. But if you lose—if you can't shake them—then these students come to me. I'll teach them personally and make sure they pass tomorrow's test with flying colors."
Nolan considered. He wasn't risking anything, and he doubted they'd want to transfer to someone who couldn't even handle a joke. "Alright," he said with a calm nod.
Granfire crossed his arms with arrogance. "Good."
Soon a pause would ensue.
Nolan would tilt his head.
Granfire would gesture to Nolan, "Go, begin…"
But Nolan only tilted his head again. "Don't want to join?"
He could feel that this isn't going to be satisfying without this bastard. So he needed to include him.
"What?" Granfire scoffed. "You think you'll scare me too?"
Nolan shrugged, his smile enigmatic. "I just want you to experience what they're about to witness. I like consistency."
Granfire blinked. "You're joking."
"Fifty mana crystals," Nolan said, deadpan. "Special discount for fellow teachers."
"That's ridiculous!" Granfire barked. "Fifty? For what, some little scare show? A glorified illusion?"
Nolan didn't budge. "Earlier, you said you spent a fortune training them with top-tier Novice Mana Knights from Silver Blade City. But now you're hesitant to spend even a sliver of your wealth? Strange."
Granfire froze.
The students were watching.
Every word hung in the air like a challenge. His pride coiled tightly around him like a serpent.
"Tch…" he muttered, reaching into his pouch. With great reluctance, he tossed the magic crystals toward Nolan.
Nolan caught them with both hands and smiled. "Thank you. Now…"
He stepped forward. His boots echoed lightly across the stone floor as he raised his arms.
The room went still.
The students, though skeptical, watched with cautious anticipation.
Even Granfire couldn't help but lean in slightly, with his brow raised a little.
Nolan's voice dropped an octave, smooth and slow like a lullaby. "Welcome," he said, "to your first class in true willpower. A test not of your body—but of your mind. Not your strength—but of your belief."
His words echoed through the room as the lights dimmed unnaturally. A heavy shadow blanketed the classroom, and flickers of pale, drifting light danced on the walls.
"You've faced blades. You've faced near-death experiences, I hear. But those are simple. Tangible. Predictable. Today, we begin something subtler. I call this… The Relaxing Car Drive."
There was a beat of silence.
One student raised their hand, hesitant. "Um… what?"
Even Granfire blinked. "Relaxing what now?"
Before another word could be spoken, the room fell into complete darkness.
Not the dimmed shadow of illusion, but true darkness—depthless, bottomless, absolute.
The kind that made even trained knights feel like children again.
Then, a faint, ghostly glow began to gather before them.
A wide screen of light stretched into existence, hovering in the center of the classroom.
Soft sunshine spilled from the image—a peaceful road nestled in rolling green hills. The gentle music of flutes played in the background, like the kind played in sacred elf gardens.
A strange metallic carriage rolled down the smooth, winding road. It moved effortlessly, its glass windows reflecting the bright sky. Trees swayed beside it.
The air in the room seemed to fill with the scent of pine and morning dew. The temperature shifted. The students felt the wind in their hair, the warmth on their skin.
"What… is that?" a girl asked in awe.
"A magic carousel," Granfire muttered. "Other cities use them. They're like… horseless carriages."
The students nodded, watching in silence.
The carriage drifted into a forest path, the screen showing trees passing slowly in serene rhythm.
Birds chirped in the background.
The road curved lazily to the right, disappearing behind thick foliage.
The students relaxed. Some even smiled, their bodies visibly slouching. A few leaned back in their chairs. One whispered, "I thought this was supposed to test our willpower?"
"It's so peaceful…" said another.
"I feel like I'm dreaming."
Even Granfire narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What's the catch?"
The music swelled slightly.
The scene lingered.
The students waited for the carriage to come out of the trees on the other side of the curve. But it didn't.
Seconds passed.
More seconds.
A slow, creeping unease began to stir in their chests. Where was it?
"Why hasn't it reappeared?" whispered one boy, his hands clutching his seat.
The flute music started to distort—subtly at first, a note bending slightly off-tune. Then another.
The color of the forest shifted, almost imperceptibly.
The leaves dulled.
The shadows deepened.
Granfire straightened. "Something's not right."
Suddenly—
A deafening screech ripped through the illusion like a chainsaw through silence.
The students screamed as a rotted, skinless zombie head exploded into view from the screen, its eyes bulging and mouth agape in an inhuman shriek.
The sound wasn't just noise—it rattled bones, pierced the skull, and scraped the spines raw if those who are hearing it.
The room was thrown into madness.
Chairs clattered.
One student fell backward, another jumped behind his desk.
A girl burst into tears.
A boy vomited on the floor.
The serene world had become a personal nightmare with a single snap.
Granfire shouted something incoherent, arms flailing as he staggered away from the screen.
"Arrrgghh!!"
His face was pale, and his breathing ragged.