NOVEL NEXT Chapter 82: Students
Athena gasped theatrically. "You wouldn't."
"I absolutely would," Damien said without hesitation.
"Rude," Athena pouted. "See if I let you steal my dessert again."
"You stole mine first."
"Property is a social construct," she sniffed.
Jiang Xiao Yu paused mid-bite and glanced at him sideways. "You smell like old books."
Damien raised an eyebrow. "You can smell that?"
"I read fast." she said calmly, and took another bite. "Lend me that book."
"I… Sure. Next time." Damien shook his head helplessly.
There was no way he would bring such a treasure out of that place.
And he also probably couldn't bring her in there.
Best to just avoid the issue and let it hang.
The three of them ate in companionable silence—well, companionable for them. That meant the occasional jab, two stealthy attempts by Athena to snag his drink, and Jiang Xiao Yu fending off a clueless upperclassman who tried to flirt with her by threatening to freeze his eyebrows off.
Damien didn't talk much.
He was still thinking.
But he didn't leave.
Not tonight.
Let them eat. Let them argue. Let them fight over dessert and steal his tray.
He just sat there, quietly basking in the quiet thrill of his newfound power.
Dinner ended later than expected.
Somehow, between Athena smuggling extra dessert and Jiang Xiao Yu intimidating a cafeteria worker into handing over the last mana custard, the trio had attracted a small crowd.
Others trickled in, pulled by the smell of food and the magnetic chaos Damien had somehow become the center of.
By the time trays were returned and plates cleared, a collective decision had formed.
They needed a break.
Not just from training, but from the intensity. The fear. The chaos. The fact that somehow, the first two days at Pearl Institute had already felt like surviving a small war.
So someone suggested a fire. Someone else found logs.
And before long, a glowing campfire crackled at the edge of the southern field, its light flickering across tired but smiling faces.
The first years gathered around. Not in uniforms, but in mismatched shirts, jackets, and sleepwear—whatever they'd grabbed first. A few had instruments. Someone summoned floating lights that hovered like glowing fireflies. Someone else passed around hot drinks laced with mana herbs.
Even a few professors showed up.
Professor Bai Lian sat with her legs crossed, sipping from a thermos and pretending not to enjoy herself.
Professor Wu smoked something that was probably not permitted on campus.
Even Professor Kong Hu appeared, though he remained at a distance, arms crossed, face unreadable—until someone tossed him a mug of warm spice tea and he didn't throw it back.
Laughter rose. Songs were sung.
Terrible songs. Loud songs. Improvised verses with bad rhymes and worse melodies.
Fatty somehow ended up leading a chorus about "Surviving Death Mode and Still Wanting Dessert," and to everyone's horror, he had a surprisingly soulful voice.
Mu Qingyu played the flute.
Ji Chen harmonized.
Jennifer Aquafrost refused to sing. But she roasted marshmallows with such cold precision it became a thing of awe.
Even Jiang Xiao Yu sang. Quietly. One haunting, simple melody that made the firelight seem softer.
Damien didn't sing. But at least he stayed.
The moment felt surreal. As if the battlefield had briefly given way to something simpler. Something almost… normal.
Then Zhao Rui stood up.
Predictable chaos returned immediately.
"Alright," he said, cracking his neck like a war general addressing his troops. "Enough emotional nonsense. Let's talk about something real."
Groans.
"Oh no."
"Please don't say—"
"—BGA?" Athena perked up.
Zhao Rui grinned.
"Exactly. The BGA citywide tournament is coming up soon."
BGA—Battle Gods Arena.
Pearl Institute had some students who played decently. A few decent players. Maybe one or two solid enough to rank.
But none of them had ever made it to the real stage.
Because every year, the War God College—Pearl's eternal, over-muscled, under-brained rivals—dominated the tournament. Not because they were brilliant tacticians, but because they lived and breathed mecha. And an entire coaching department. And enough aggression to flatten a mountain.
"They're all playing this year," Zhao Rui said, practically vibrating. "Every single one of them. All 300 first years entered the bracket."
"Great," someone muttered. "So we can all watch them stomp half the board again."
Another added, "Yeah. It'll be fun to watch them lose for once."
Zhao Rui turned slowly toward the speaker, his face deadly serious.
"What's so fun about just watching them lose?" he said, voice low. "This daddy here will MAKE them lose. I'm participating!"
The campfire exploded in cheers and groans.
"Bro, are you even ranked? You've won a local tournament?"
"Do you even know the rules?"
"I don't need rules." Zhao Rui declared, pointing at his chest. "I've got instincts. Reflexes. Dominance. And a few hundred local net cafes. That's how I qualified. HAHA! This daddy here might not be a good mecha pilot, but with my latest 6th gen mecha, I don't need to be good to stomp on those losers!"
Fatty howled. "You've got an ego so big, the arena might not load!"
Athena clapped. "I vote we train him. Just to watch him crash in round one with style."
"Do it," Zhao Rui grinned. "And when I win—you're buying dinner. You, me, alone."
Athena raised an eyebrow, her smirk sharp enough to cut through Zhao Rui's confidence.
"Oh? Tempting offer," she said sweetly, twirling a spoon between her fingers. "Tell you what—if you make it to the finals without rage-quitting, I'll consider it a date."
She leaned in slightly. "But if you crash and burn like I think you will… you're buying dinner. For me. And my entire fan club."
The crowd oooh'd as Zhao Rui's grin twitched.
"Hope your instincts come with unlimited credit, champion."
Laughter rippled around the fire. Someone tossed another log into the flames. Another round of singing began. This time louder, worse, and filled with Zhao Rui's improvised BGA fight anthem that involved too much chest-thumping and not enough melody.
And somewhere in the middle of it all, Damien leaned back, arms folded behind his head, eyes on the stars.
He didn't laugh.
But he smiled.
Tomorrow, the hellish training will begin again.
But tonight…
Tonight, they were still just students.