After giving his name and collecting his number, Ars departed for the entrance exam hall.
"Theodore, can you hide for a while? At least until the test?" Ars asked. "Okay! Is it because you don't want people to see me?" Theodore replied. "Yes. I want them to mock me first… and then be terrified when they witness my power."
"Ars, look—this is the place," Theodore said. "This hall is massive. Just look at the size of those doors… it feels like giants live here," Ars muttered.
A guard at the door stopped him. "Are you a participant? Only participants are allowed inside." Ars smirked arrogantly. "Are you blind? Look at my test number!"
Inside Ars's mind, Theodore mused: Aw man, seriously? Again with that cold-blooded assassin aura… It seems whenever Ars is in public, he takes on a completely different personality. Ten years of bullying and hatred have shaped him into this.
"Sir, what is your name?" the guard asked. "Ars. Ars Segrain," Ars replied.
The door opened, and the hall was filled with chatter. Ars was stunned. "So many participants… and look at their curses, Theodore. They're just animals. And it seems I'm not the only one hiding my curse—many are concealing theirs." "You can't judge them just because they look like animals," Theodore answered. "It's possible they're stage three or higher. Those hiding their curses may be immensely strong."
Ars entered the hall and stood alone at the back. Soon, two boys approached. "Hey, long time no see, Ars," one of them said. "Why are you here, Duke?" Ars asked coldly.
"Oh, don't be angry! We're just reuniting with our precious friend after so many years. I was worried when you moved to the mountains with that old hag. You've gained plenty of muscle, sure—but what can you do with just muscles? Hahaha! Please tell me you're here as cleaning staff."
The other boy spoke up. "Duke, look—he has a test number. He's participating." "Seriously, dude? Have you lost your mind? Are you planning to win with your muscles or your worthless martial arts?" Duke sneered. "Is there a problem with that?" Ars replied calmly.
"Are you trying to pick a fight with me? Like when we were kids, and I beat you into a pulp? You're shameless. This is a curse academy—you don't even possess a curse or magic." "I don't need curse magic or a curse to beat you and your small fry curse," Ars said firmly.
Duke grew violent and was about to punch Ars, but the other boy grabbed him. "Duke! Don't do it—we might get disqualified." "Leave me, Lincoln! I have to teach him a lesson right here and now, remind him he's just a sandbag for us!" Duke shouted.
Ars stood proudly. Lincoln leaned in and whispered irritably to Duke, "I have an idea. We can't hit him now, but we can embarrass him. Tell everyone about him."
Duke's eyes lit up. He shouted, "Look, everyone! This boy doesn't have any curse, and can't use curse magic—but he's here as a participant!"
Everyone started murmuring. "A boy without a curse, here to take the test?" "Haha, there's always at least one clown like him." Laughter spread through the hall. "I feel pity for you, boy." "We should keep him in a museum—he's the only one without curse magic in this world." "His life must be very rough."
A boy leaning against a pillar muttered, "Tsk… so many noisy insects."
"Attention, everyone! I am Kurt, your examiner for this entrance exam."
"Please line up according to your test numbers. One by one, you will place your hand on the crystal to measure the rank of your curse. After that, we will proceed to the combat ground."
Ars muttered, "My number is the last one. That gives me more time to keep my curse hidden."
Theodore's voice hardened. "Ars, those bullies mocked you in front of everyone. Why didn't you show them how powerful you are now?" "I want everyone to see my power during the test. That's why," Ars replied.
"Number 178, step forward," the examiner called.
Ars smirked. "Finally, my turn. Perfect—no one's around. I can't wait to see the examiner's reaction when my rank shows as S… or even SS."
"Participant, place your hand on the crystal ball," the examiner instructed.
Ars pressed his hand against the glowing sphere. Nothing happened at first. Then, slowly, the screen beneath the crystal flickered to life—displaying a rank no one had ever seen before.
Z Rank.
The examiner frowned. "Z rank? I thought F was the lowest… how can there be a Z? So it's true—this boy has no curse magic at all."
He sighed. "Boy, I'm warning you. The next test is combat. You'll get hurt. For your own good, resign now." Ars glared. "Shut up. You're in no position to tell me what to do, old man." He walked toward the combat ground.
The examiner muttered under his breath. "What a cocky brat. He doesn't realize I'm the one arranging the matchups. I'll make sure he faces the strongest participant. Then he'll learn his place."
The colosseum filled with participants.
"Everyone, be ready. The matches will begin. Number 1 will fight Number 178, Number 2 against 177, and so on. Victory will be decided when one opponent is unconscious or surrenders. If someone is badly injured, the fight will be stopped."
"Number 1 and Number 178, step forward and raise your hands."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. "Hey, look—it's Shepherd Voltas, grandson of the principal! Last year's most honorable student!" "You mean Rodrick Voltas, the principal? In his era, he was second closest to becoming The Curse Conqueror." "And Ars Segrain is his opponent? The strongest versus the weakest? This is hilarious!"
"Shepherd Voltas and Ars Segrain, are you ready?" Both nodded.
Suddenly, a platform rose from the ground, forming the arena.
Ars whispered to Theodore, "Are you sure I can win with a single curse attack?" "Of course," Theodore replied. "The rules say you only need to make your opponent unconscious or unable to fight."
"You both know the rules?" the examiner asked. Both nodded. "Then begin!"
Shepherd charged forward. "[Water Curse Technique—Acid Rain!]"
"Quick, Ars!" Theodore urged. "Use your dark curse magic. Cover your body—the dark smoke erases other magic!"
Ars focused his energy. Black smoke poured from his body, enveloping him completely.
Shepherd froze. "What?! He wasn't supposed to have curse magic. What is this black smoke? It canceled my spell!" "Who in the world are you? What kind of curse magic is this?"
"I am just a victim… nothing more," Ars replied coldly.
Shepherd snarled. "[Fire Curse Technique—Crimson Fireball!]" He hurled a massive sphere of flame.
Ars released a surge of black smoke. It swallowed the fireball, then surged toward Shepherd.
Shepherd's eyes widened. "Impossible… both my spells failed. I'm a Victor—born to rule, not to perish at the hands of a peasant!"
The smoke engulfed him. When it cleared, Shepherd was conscious but paralyzed, trapped by the force of his own curse. He struggled. "Not yet… I won't lose to a peasant!" Then his body collapsed, unconscious.
"Number 1, Shepherd Voltas, is out. Number 178, Ars Segrain, is the winner!" the examiner declared.
The arena fell silent. Then someone shouted, "Hey, Duke! Weren't you the one who said this guy had no curse? What do you say now?"
Duke stammered. "I didn't lie! He didn't have a curse back then. I don't know how he awakened it now. Damn it, Ars… what is this dark curse magic? I thought only four types of magic existed in this world."
Ars left the arena calmly. "Nice job," Theodore said. "You leveled up again." "But why was Shepherd paralyzed?" Ars asked. "He was trapped by the force of his own curse," Theodore explained.
Ars yawned. "Let's find a place to nap. Wake me when the results are announced. That tree's shade looks perfect."
Later, Ars stirred. "Theodore, what's that noise? It disturbed my sleep." "Look at the arena," Theodore said.
Ars's eyes widened. "Who is that guy? Why is he rampaging?" "His opponent's curse is a sabertooth—an A rank. Yet this man crushed him without even showing his own curse. If he's stronger than A rank… could he be S rank?"
Ars muttered, "If he's S rank, why is he even here? He could join the curse platoon directly."
The examiner shouted, "Number 89, stop! Your opponent has surrendered!" "I won't stop until I rip his heart out!" Number 89 roared. "[Magma Curse Technique—Judgment Whip!]"
Suddenly, a calm voice cut through the chaos. "Looks like someone is overdoing it."
Gasps erupted. "It's the principal, Rodrick Voltas!" "I don't care if you're the principal," Number 89 sneered. "You can't stop me!" Rodrick stepped forward. "A neck chop should be enough."
Number 89 collapsed instantly.
Attention, The examiner announced, "The tests are over. Now we will assign classes."
Number 2 – Noble Class
Number 3 – Elite Class
Number 4 – Average Class …
Number 89 – Abnormal Class
Whispers spread. "Abnormal Class? That's where all the weirdos go. The whole school calls them THE DEFECTIVES "
Number 177 – Average Class
Number 178 – Abnormal Class
Ars groaned. "What the hell… I have to be in the same class as that monster?"
Continued in Chapter 4 – The Abnormal Class