Chapter 72. Resting Murder Face
Succubi Chapter 72. Resting Murder Face
Adrian just stared at him like someone trying to decode ancient war crimes written in sandwich form. “You’ve got sauce on your shirt.”
Leon glanced down, wiped it with the edge of his napkin, then immediately gave up. “Battle scars,” he muttered.
Evelyn leaned back with her drink, sipping calmly. “If you fail your assessment because you’re bloated from cafeteria mystery meat, I’m not helping you limp to the infirmary.”
“Aw, come on,” Leon said, stretching. “What could go wrong? It’s not like they’re gonna throw a real dragon at us.”
We all chuckled, even Evelyn—though hers was more of an amused exhale, like someone watching toddlers make plans to storm a fortress with pool noodles.
Time ticked down, and by the time the academy bells rang soft and rhythmic over the intercom, we tossed our trash and started heading toward the East Wing.
The walk there felt different now. Less casual, more like walking toward a storm. Our shoes echoed faintly on the polished tile, and I noticed how the temperature subtly dropped the closer we got to the training sector.
“Should’ve worn my battle hoodie,” I muttered.
Evelyn glanced sideways. “You have a battle hoodie?”
“Mentally. I wear it in my soul.”
Leon laughed. “Evan’s inner hoodie is made of sarcasm and regrets.”
Adrian sighed dramatically. “Truly, an Arcana legacy in the making.”
We finally arrived at the East Wing training hall—tall steel-reinforced gates opening smoothly as we stepped in. The air inside buzzed with low energy hums, like a mana field waiting to be charged. The lights above shifted from warm white to a soft neutral gray, the kind that made your skin look like you hadn’t slept in three days.
There were five students in total. Two Titans already standing near the back, arms crossed, towering and quiet like walking fortresses. Me, Leon… and—
“Oh great,” I muttered under my breath.
Leon followed my gaze.
There, standing at the far end of the room with his arms folded, glaring daggers without even blinking—Ares.
He didn’t say a word. Just kept staring and radiating rage like it owed him money.
Leon elbowed me. “Is it just me or does he look like he’s planning to personally strangle both of us?”
“No, that’s just his resting murder face,” I whispered. “Totally normal. Harmless.”
Evelyn stood behind us, arms crossed. “He hasn’t stopped glaring since we walked in.”
“Oh,” I said, trying to feign innocence, “maybe he’s just jealous. Of us.”
A low ping echoed through the room. A hidden projector clicked on with a smooth whir, and a series of glowing runes formed midair. An academy staff member walked in from a side door—long dark robes, silver-rimmed glasses, tablet in hand. He looked more like an overworked tax auditor than someone responsible for combat exams.
He tapped his tablet and cleared his throat, voice amplified slightly by a subtle spell woven into the collar of his uniform.
“Welcome, candidates,” he said, tone calm and practiced. “This is not a duel examination, nor a physical-only test. You are here for Mission Capacity Assessment—which determines the maximum mission rank you’re allowed to accept.”
I exhaled slowly. Not a duel. Good.
Leon cracked his knuckles anyway. “Still sounds fun.”
The staff continued. “Each candidate will be placed into a randomized simulated environment. Inside, you may encounter traps, illusions, or holographic monsters designed to test combat judgment, survival instincts, and magical control under pressure.”
“So… virtual dungeon escape room,” I muttered.
“Correct,” the staff said, not even glancing up. “Do not assume everything must be fought. Some scenarios are designed to reward escape, negotiation, or clever avoidance. Use your brain. You are not graded on kills, but on response quality.”
A student behind us groaned.
He went on. “Your scores will determine the initial mission rank limit: E through B. Higher missions require additional certifications or sponsor recommendations.”
He tapped again, and a soft mechanical whirring came from the walls.
Panels slid open, revealing five small rooms lined with glowing sigils. Each one was circular, with a faint shimmer pulsing at the threshold—arcane boundaries, no doubt linked to some illusion matrix system.
Leon grinned at me. “Ready to show off?”
“I was born ready. Probably. I think.”
Evelyn stepped closer and flicked a bit of lint off my shoulder. “Don’t embarrass me.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I deadpanned.
She smiled faintly. “If you do well, I might not glare at your future fan clubs.”
“I feel blessed already.”
Adrian crossed his arms. “Try not to get eaten by holographic manticores.”
Leon smirked. “If I do, avenge me by eating twice as much in my name.”
“I would,” Adrian said solemnly. “For science.”
“Touching,” I said. “Truly.”
The staff waved us forward. “Leon Duskbane, Evan Drakos. Step into chambers one and two.”
We exchanged a look.
“Race you?” Leon offered.
“You’ll trip on your own ego,” I replied.
He winked. “It floats me forward.”
We both stepped into our respective chambers. The air changed the second I passed the boundary—thickened, like walking into mist that vibrated against your skin. I felt the system scan me—mana signature, body vitals, maybe even intent. Then everything blurred.
The world shifted.
The air cleared, and I stood in a dim, jungle-like environment. The scent of moss and ozone hung heavy, and the sound of rustling leaves and distant animal calls echoed all around. But it wasn’t real—everything shimmered slightly, like looking through heat waves. Still… damn, the simulation felt real.
I took a cautious step forward.
Roots slithered slightly beneath my boots, like they were alive but polite about it. The trees swayed, and up ahead, a clearing opened into a broken ruin—pillars crumbled, vines crawling up their sides, and in the center… a pedestal.
A blue orb hovered above it, crackling with tiny arcs of mana.
Alright.
Objective? Probably "get the orb without dying."
I moved forward—slow, careful. Scanning. No obvious traps, but that was the point. The real danger would probably be the ones I didn’t see.
And then it hit me.
The noise.
A subtle click underfoot.
I froze.
Trap.
The floor opened up—no, dissolved—beneath me. I dropped like a rock, falling into darkness, and landed hard on a cushion of leaves and illusionary fluff that still knocked the wind out of me.
“Ow.”
The walls around me lit up with red runes.
And out came the monsters.
Two jaguar-shaped holograms—eyes glowing red, bodies flickering like broken data—pounced into the pit with me.
“Okay,” I muttered, summoning my Shadow Blade instinctively. “Now it’s fun.”
The simulation roared on.
Somewhere above, probably in his own chamber, Leon was dealing with something equally ridiculous.
And maybe… just maybe… Ares was up there still glaring.
But right now?
I had a test to beat.
With style.
“—First test will begin,” the voice announced coolly, echoing through the illusion chamber like someone dropped it into a bottle of calm static.
“Please hold on as long in the room as you can.”
Oh, that’s comforting. Hold on? Like emotionally? Physically? Spiritually?
No time to clarify.
The jaguar-shaped illusions didn’t wait.
They lunged.
No levels above their heads. No stats. No warnings. Just two glowing-eyed death-cats made of flickering mana lines and predatory malice, pouncing from the crumbled stone shadows like a spell gone feral.
I moved purely on instinct.
My blade flared to life in my palm—a jagged blade of darkness, curved slightly like a sickle born from my own shadow. The handle cool and weightless in my grip. My breath caught for half a second as I dropped low, twisting sideways, and the first jaguar’s claws scraped the air where my face had been.
I countered with a tight slash.
The blade hissed as it cut through mana.
The creature’s shoulder sparked, glitching for a second—but it didn’t fall. It twisted midair, landed, and came again. Fast. Smarter than it looked.
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