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

"Pearl Institute is a military school," Principal Tian Long said grimly.

His voice rang through the ruined banquet hall, calm and unwavering amid the broken glass, toppled chairs, and stunned silence that lingered in the air like smoke.

"This place is not built for comfort. It is no playground for young nobles. It is a crucible."

He stepped forward across the stage, the crunch of crystal and debris beneath his polished boots punctuating his words.

"For over a decade, we've been locked in war with the European Empire—a war of mana, of machines, of blood. Hundreds of thousands have died—not only soldiers, but civilians. Children. Families. Entire cities reduced to ash. And yet, the war stands still. Neither side advances. Neither side retreats."

His gaze swept across the gathered crowd, eyes sharp and weighted with purpose.

The first years stood in complete disarray.

Disheveled uniforms clung crookedly to sweaty bodies. Students clutched bruised limbs, twisted ankles, or clumps of their own hair that had been yanked out during the earlier stampede.

One boy nursed a black eye he'd somehow given himself by tripping face-first into his suitcase. A girl was sitting on the ground, dazed and muttering about being trampled by a junior mage from some noble family who'd tried to escape through a window.

A handful of students still reeked of fruit punch, having been doused in it during the chaos. One had a half-melted shoe, the result of someone else's haphazard mana spell misfiring during the rush.

Eyes were wide, mouths agape, and more than a few shoulders slumped in defeat. They looked less like the future defenders of the nation and more like survivors of a very confusing natural disaster.

"We can no longer afford another generation that waits. We need a generation that acts. A generation that moves, that strikes, that shapes the battlefield before it's shaped for them.

We need the strongest generation this country has ever seen to take the stage as soon as possible and put an end to this war."

He paused.

"That is why you are here."

Another step forward.

"Some of you were born into power. Some of you were born with gifted mana. Some of you were born with nothing. It doesn't matter. What matters is what you become."

Shame still lingered in the air like morning fog.

Many of the first years avoided each other's eyes, faces flushed with residual embarrassment from the earlier chaos. Now that the adrenaline had faded, the reality of their panic had begun to settle in.

They remembered the screaming, the scrambling, the elbowing classmates out of the way just to run away from the soldiers crashing in from the East. Some remembered the sound of their own voices—shrieking and cursing in panic. Others had bruises on their pride more than their bodies, haunted by the memory of tripping over their own robes while trying to run away.

But beneath the shame, something else began to stir.

Drive. Determination. Focus.

Whatever they were at that moment, they were also the best that the nation had to offer.

They would not break so easily.

"Because even as we bleed against the Empire, another threat rises."

His voice lowered, darker, heavier.

"The Awakened Beasts. The Mana Aberrants. Creatures born of warped magic, twisted mana fields, and ancient forces we barely comprehend. Their numbers grow with every passing year. And they are not waiting at our borders—they are in our forests, our mountains, our ruins. They do not bargain. They do not retreat. They exist only to devour."

He raised a hand, gesturing at the hall and the shaken students still standing amid the remnants of the raid.

"Look around you. This will not be the last time you see chaos. One day, it won't be blanks in rifles—it will be real bullets. Real claws. Real screams. And your response will determine who lives… and who dies."

Silence swallowed the room.

"You will train here. You will fight here. You will bleed here. And if you are strong—if you are lucky—you will leave this place ready to protect those who cannot protect themselves.

And more importantly, to crush those who threaten them."

He turned back to the hall, voice rising just enough to command every ear.

"This world does not need more cowards hiding behind bloodlines. It needs soldiers. It needs mages. It needs leaders."

A final pause.

"Pearl Institute welcomes you. Now prove you deserve it."

Principal Tian Long gave one final look over the crowd. His eyes, sharp as blades, seemed to weigh every soul present. Then, with military precision, he brought his fist to his chest in a crisp salute.

Around the room, the students straightened—backs a little taller, eyes a little clearer, the sting of shame replaced by a flicker of pride.

Without another word, he turned and strode off the stage. No fanfare. No music. Just silence.

And the lingering pressure of everything he had said.

A moment later, a thunderous voice shattered that silence.

"All new students listen up!"

A massive man stepped forward, dressed in an instructor's uniform stretched slightly too tight around his broad frame. His biceps looked like they could bench press a transport tank.

"I am Professor Kong Hu!" he bellowed. "You have ten minutes to report to the training field in athletic gear!"

Gasps rippled through the room.

"Fail to show up ready, and you can consider yourself expelled!"

Groans immediately broke out across the hall like a wave of collective despair.

"Ten minutes?! We haven't even finished the welcome drinks!"

"Didn't they just blow up half the hall?!"

"My uniform's still in my suitcase!"

"I think I left mine on the bus!"

Near the main entrance, a tall, elegant woman in a sleek white uniform crossed her arms and arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow.

Professor Bai Lian, known equally for her devastating beauty and terrifying aptitude in elemental dueling, gave the crowd a dispassionate glance.

"If you cannot get dressed and report in ten minutes," she said coldly, "you will not last ten seconds on the battlefield."

Beside her waddled a much rounder man, his uniform struggling valiantly to contain his massive belly.

"Ahhh," Professor Wu muttered as he sipped on a cup of tealoudly, "what's all the fuss? Back in my day, they gave us five minutes and a punch to the gut to warm up."

He turned to a group of stunned students with a lazy grin.

"You lot should be thankful. You still have ten whole minutes. That's a vacation where I come from."

Professor Kong Hu growled like a bear, glaring at the squirming crowd of freshmen.

"No excuses! Move your asses! You want to be mages, soldiers, guardians of this country?! START WITH BEING ON TIME!"

One brave student near the center tried to reason with him. "Sir, I-I lost my suitcase in the chaos, my boots—"

"Run barefoot!" Kong Hu thundered.

Another girl held up a smoking skirt. "My clothes were set on fire by a stray wind blade—"

"Fashion is a luxury! This is about survival!"

A third boy stumbled forward, still blinking from the flashbangs earlier. "I think I'm partially blind, sir—"

"Use your ears then!!"

Kong Hu jabbed a finger toward the exit. "Nine minutes and thirty seconds! You want to complain more, or do you want to stay enrolled?!"

The crowd dissolved into panicked motion. Shoes were thrown on backwards, robes pulled over heads, belts buckled with trembling fingers.

Fatty whimpered as he tried to stuff his feet into a boot two sizes too small. "Boss, my sock is stuck… My life is over… I wasn't built for ten-minute get-dressed sprints!"

Damien Bloodbane had already reached the door, stretching calmly as he stepped into the corridor.

He wasn't the only one.

At the center of the hall, Ji Chen silently left through the side entrance, his silver wind aura already coiling around him like a second skin.

Jennifer Aquafrost was already halfway across the ballroom with her clan entourage forming into a precise formation behind her.

Zhao Rui's expression twisted in irritation. He flung his empty cup into the air and stomped out.

At the training field, Damien Bloodbane was mildly surprised to find it already half-filled with students.

They were the second years, already in uniform, already warmed up, and clearly enjoying the chaos.

Apparently, the infamous Pearl Institute Welcome Party was nothing more than a ceremonial ambush for freshmen. Only the new students had been lured into that decorative death trap, while the seniors skipped the pleasantries entirely.

The upperclassmen stood in relaxed clusters across the field. Their uniforms were clean, their boots polished, and their grins stretched ear to ear.

A tall second-year with burn-scarred gloves waved at a group of struggling first years still arriving breathlessly.

"Ten minutes, huh? Damn, they're getting soft."

"I give these newbies ten minutes before someone passes out."

"They brought their luggage. Oh, that's adorable."

Damien Bloodbane adjusted the collar of his borrowed uniform and looked around.

Fatty staggered up beside him, wheezing like a dying accordion.

"Boss," he gasped. "I think I burned three years of lifespan just from changing clothes…"

The upperclassmen laughed louder.

It was going to be a long morning.