No! I don't want to be a Super Necromancer!

But before existential dread could fully settle in, the four generals stomped toward him through the back hall with triumphant smiles and suspiciously red eyes.

General Maru grabbed him by the shoulder and grinned like a proud father.

"You lost, boy. But you didn't lose."

General Riki patted his back. "You gave us the best match of our lives. It was art. It was poetry. It was a good reason to cry in public."

General Hong Fei cleared his throat and shoved a card into Damien's hand. "Here. From the four of us. Call it… hazard pay."

Damien glanced at the card.

Transfer authorization: 2,000,000 dollars.

He blinked. "Wait, you're just giving me… Two million dollars?!"

"For services rendered," General Liang interrupted, holding back a sob. "And as a farewell gift."

Damien raised an eyebrow. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Oh, you are," General Maru said bitterly. "The Black Asura's seen you now. You think you get to stay in Beijing after that?"

"You're getting recruited," General Riki whispered, eyes watery. "Promoted. Dragged into the front lines. Shipped to border hellholes. You'll be in briefing rooms and kill zones and special units for the rest of your youth!"

"You'll forget about us," General Liang wept. "You'll forget duck buns and poor old men with nothing but memories!"

"We're losing you to the system, boy!" General Hong Fei sniffled. "You'll become a weapon! A real one!"

Damien just stared.

Then looked at Fatty.

Fatty shrugged.

"…I'm going to eat duck buns while I can," Damien muttered.

"THAT'S THE SPIRIT!" the four generals cheered, hugging him.

Up in the highest room of the BGA stadium, Grand Marshal Li Qingshan finally removed himself from the Dark Asura pod, sweat still clinging to his back, his breath quiet and controlled.

His aide approached cautiously, bowed low, and spoke in a hushed tone.

"Sir… shall we begin formal recruitment procedures?"

Grand Marshal Li Qingshan said nothing at first.

He continued watching the replay on the hovering display.

Damien's footwork, the final exchange, the serene sharpness in his gaze. Every movement precise. Every decision deliberate.

He turned away at last, his eyes narrowed, his voice low and thoughtful.

"Not yet."

The aide blinked. "Sir?"

Grand Marshal Li Qingshan's lips curved into a slow, almost imperceptible smile.

"Let him ignite the hearts of the youth first. Let them see what it means to stand on the edge of greatness."

He looked out the window, toward the distant borders.

"And then…" he said quietly, "we'll send him west. Let the Europeans see what kind of gift China has been preparing."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Night fell over Pearl Institute like a velvet curtain, soft and quiet. The day's chaos faded beneath the hush of moonlight and mana lamps, and the dormitories stood still, their windows glowing faintly with tired students and half-finished reports.

The halls were empty. His footsteps echoed softly as he walked up the stairs and into his room.

It was empty. Damien hard returned first. The others were probably waiting till the last minute before they checked in.

He didn't turn on the lights. He didn't need to. The moment he stepped inside, he locked the door, dropped his coat on the chair, and sat cross-legged on the floor.

From within his inner coat pocket, he drew the orb.

The mysterious one from the auction. The one that had sparked a bidding war, silent threats, and the wrath of half the capital's upper crust.

It pulsed at his touch.

Damien narrowed his eyes. That pulse wasn't just a reaction, it was recognition. The orb shimmered faintly, colors swirling through its core like slow-motion lightning trapped in glass. Ribbons of time curled in its depths, grey and gold and something deeper, something ancient.

He placed both hands around it.

And the orb responded.

A soft hum filled the room, rising from the floor, the walls, the very air around him. Time energy poured out in delicate threads, threading into his necromantic core and winding themselves into the gaps between death and mana.

[Time Energy absorbed]

[Commencing Purity Upgrade]

[Necromantic Core Integration: 20% Stabilized.]

Damien exhaled slowly.

He could feel it now.

Before, it was like touching a river with the tip of his finger. Now, he was ankle-deep in it. The flow of time brushed against him gently, like a living thing waiting to be commanded.

He raised a hand.

The air shimmered.

With a soft mental push, he activated his time field and the world… stopped.

The flame on the candle stilled mid-flicker. Dust halted in the air. The outside sounds cut off like someone had muted reality.

Damien stood up.

His footsteps made no sound. The room was caught in a crystalline stillness, untouchable and unreachable by anything except him. He walked to the window, opened it, looked outside.

Not a leaf moved. Not a soul stirred.

He checked the chronolink on his wrist.

Pressed the timer.

Fifteen seconds passed in silence.

Then the field cracked.

Time returned with a low whump, like air rushing back into a vacuum. The candle resumed flickering. The distant murmur of the campus drifted back in through the window. His chronolink ticked forward.

Damien sat back down on the bed, rubbing his temple.

"Fifteen seconds," he muttered. "Enough for one hundred clean kills. Maybe two, if they stand close enough."

He looked at the orb, now empty and dull, its contents fully transferred. He tucked it into his drawer and leaned back against the wall, eyes half-closed.

The night was quiet.

But inside him, time was beginning to move in new directions.

By 3 a.m., the quiet of the dorm was gently broken by the sound of footsteps in the hall.

Ji Chen entered first, still wearing his academy coat, hair wind-tossed and eyes distant. He gave Damien a long look as he walked in, then offered a nod before heading to his bed without a word.

A minute later, Jiang Xiao Yu followed.

Her raven-black hair was damp from a quick wash. She stood in the doorway for a second, eyes locking with Damien's under the dim mana light. She gave him a tiny pout, one that held a touch of worry… but also exasperation. Then she walked past him, her light-blue night robe fluttering at her ankles, and crawled into bed without saying anything.

Damien watched her settle beneath the sheets.

She didn't speak.

But she didn't need to.

A few minutes later, Jennifer Aquafrost arrived last, her gait still sharp and graceful despite the late hour. Her silver-white hair was pinned back, and she carried herself with the composed frostiness she wore like armor. She gave Damien a brief, disgusted glance and sat on her bed to remove her boots.

"Show-off," she muttered under her breath.

Damien raised an eyebrow but said nothing. The room fell back into silence, broken only by the soft creak of mattresses and the sigh of wind through the open window.

Then at exactly 4:03 a.m., everything changed.

A piercing siren shattered the early morning stillness, shrill and urgent. Mana-encoded alerts screamed through the walls, vibrating with emergency frequencies.

All four students bolted upright.

Then came the voice.

Professor Kong Hu.

Only this time, it wasn't the usual barking thunder of discipline or the cold chill of scorn.

This time… he was dead serious.