Chapter 8: The Hunters Board and the Ticking Clock
The Great Dining Hall was significantly louder at lunch than it was at dinner. The air was thick with the smell of roasted meats, ozone from stray magic, and the boastful shouting of Orcs recounting their morning sparring matches.
I sat at our usual oak table near the center, massaging my sternum where my newly formed, muddy spark resided. It felt like I had swallowed a warm, heavy stone.
"I still don't get it," Rolf said, tearing into a massive turkey leg. His new Beast-Core aura occasionally flared across his fur in pale yellow ripples, reacting to his emotions. "You didn't explode, but you didn't cast anything either. Malacor looked like he wanted to grind you into bone dust."
"Let him," I said, taking a clinical bite of my mana-meat. "A weapon you can't see is the hardest one to dodge."
Sitting across from us, Kaelith the Silent paused with her spoon halfway to her mouth. She had joined us without asking today, simply placing her tray down and claiming her seat. The Orcs had glared, but none dared approach the Shadow-Knight after her threat to Gorgug last night.
"Your core did not break. It mutated to absorb the shock," Kaelith observed softly, her silver eyes fixed on me. "I do not possess Mage Sight, but I know the feeling of a biological shift. You are hiding something, Goblin."
"I survived it," I corrected her. "There's a difference."
Before Kaelith could press the issue, the heavy scent of crushed mint and ozone at our table was suddenly overwritten by the sharp, crisp scent of old parchment and lotus flowers.
"Survival is a physical instinct. What you did was an arcane anomaly."
I looked up. Standing at the head of our table was Nyssa. The High Hobgoblin prodigy stood tall, her sleek black bob framing her vibrant olive skin. She pushed her silver-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose, her glowing emerald eyes staring at me with a mixture of intense frustration and burning curiosity.
Rolf nearly choked on his turkey leg. Kaelith's eyes narrowed by a fraction of a millimeter. Two top-tier nobles at the table of a Rank 1000 goblin. The surrounding tables went dead silent.
"Is this seat occupied?" Nyssa asked, though her tone suggested it wasn't really a question.
"Be my guest," I said, gesturing to the empty wooden chair to my left.
Nyssa sat down with deliberate, aristocratic grace. She ignored Rolf entirely and gave Kaelith a brief, curt nod of acknowledgment. The divide between the Martial Department and the Magic Department was vast, but Rank respected Rank.
"I have spent the last hour running theoretical arrays in my head," Nyssa said, folding her hands on the table and leaning toward me. "A calcified core shattering under an Arch-Lich's pressure should result in a fatal hemorrhage. But your core shifted. Biological cores do not mutate, Grik. Explain it."
"A magician never reveals his tricks, Nyssa," I replied, holding her gaze. "Especially not to someone who laughed at him five minutes prior."
A faint, olive-green blush of embarrassment and irritation touched her cheeks. "I laughed because the mathematics of your existence are offensive to me. But I am a scholar. If I am wrong, I must know why."
"You'll figure it out eventually," I said, taking a sip of water. "But right now, we have a more pressing issue than my anatomy. The Merit Shop."
That got everyone's attention. Even Rolf stopped chewing.
The Academy didn't operate on gold or silver. If you wanted high-tier weapons, alchemical potions, or Skill Books, you needed Academy Merits. And the only way to earn a substantial amount of Merits was through the weekly Dungeon Raids.
"The curriculum mandates that Class S students clear an F-Class Dungeon by the end of the week," I said, laying out the facts. "The Dungeons beneath the Academy are seeded with feral monsters and traps. We can go in randomly assigned groups, or we can register a fixed squad."
I looked at the three of them. I had a garbage-tier physical body and an F-Grade core. If I went into a dungeon with random Orcs or Demons, they would use me as bait to trigger traps. I needed a party. I needed my party.
"Rolf has a newly awakened Beast-Core. He's a natural brawler and a damage sponge," I said, pointing to the werewolf. I turned to Kaelith. "You are the highest single-target DPS in the first-year class. A lethal striker." I finally looked at Nyssa. "And you have the highest area-of-effect magical capacity. I have the tactical logic to coordinate it."
Nyssa raised an elegant eyebrow. "You want to form a permanent raid squad? A Shadow-Knight, an Arcane Prodigy, a stray werewolf, and a... physically deficient tactician?"
"I want to survive," I said coldly. "And I want to monopolize the Merit rankings. If we pool our strengths, we can clear the dungeon twice as fast as the disorganized nobles. We split the Merits evenly. Everyone gets what they want."
Kaelith was the first to speak. "I accept," she said flatly. "Your combat logic is sound. And I prefer fighting alongside an intellect rather than a brute."
Nyssa looked at Kaelith, then back at me. Her eyes lingered on my chest, right where she knew my shifting core was hidden. "Fine. But I am doing this to study you, Goblin. Do not think we are friends."
"I wouldn't dream of it," I smirked.
As the three of them began discussing team formations and elemental synergies, the temperature of the air around me suddenly plummeted. The world grayed out, and the System interface tore into my vision with an aggressive, pulsing crimson border.
[CRITICAL SYSTEM UPDATE: LUST UPKEEP INITIATED]
Host has awakened the Biological Core. To fuel the core's evolution, regular emotional/physiological harvest (elevated heart rates, flustered states, romantic tension) from High-Tier Targets is now mandatory.
[WARNING: UPKEEP TIMER STARTED: 72:00:00]
Failure to complete a Domination Quest within 72 hours will result in [System Rot]: -10 to all physical stats and severe neural degradation.
My blood ran cold. The System wasn't just a tool anymore; it was a parasite. If I didn't feed it the emotional tension it craved, it would eat me.
The screen shifted, revealing a new tab: [The Hunters Board: Tension Tactics].
[Available Quests: Target - Kaelith the Silent]
System Note: Target relies on absolute emotional suppression. Breaking this suppression yields low-tier LP.
The Knight's Fall: Engineer a scenario where she loses her balance and falls directly into your arms. (+40 LP)
The Wall Trap: Pin her against a wall, leaning in close enough for her to feel your breath. (+50 LP)
The Lingering Touch: Fix a stray lock of her silver hair behind her ear and maintain eye contact for 5 seconds. (+30 LP)
The Shared Scarf: Wrap your uniform coat around her shoulders. (+25 LP)
The Unseen Smile: Whisper something that forces a visible, genuine smile to break her stoic mask. (+45 LP)
The Shared Rations: Feed her a piece of food directly from your hand or fork. (+35 LP)
The Pulse Check: Hold her wrist to check her pulse and audibly comment on how fast her heart is beating. (+10 LP)
The Unexpected Praise: Give her a gentle headpat. (+50 LP)
The Close Clinch: Grapple her from behind and whisper her name directly into her ear. (+60 LP)
The Shoulder Rest: Convince her to let you rest your head on her shoulder. (+50 LP)
[Available Quests: Target - Nyssa the Arcane]
System Note: Target relies on intellectual superiority. Forcing her into flustered physiological responses yields low-tier LP.
The Ear Brush: Casually brush the highly sensitive tip of her hobgoblin ear. (+50 LP)
The Hand Holding: Interlock fingers with her. (+20 LP)
The Scholar's Fluster: Bring your face within inches of hers while she is focused on a task. (+30 LP)
The Gaze Lock: Stare into her eyes unblinking until she blushes and looks away. (+35 LP)
The Sudden Closeness: Pull her forcefully behind you by the waist. (+55 LP)
The Blunt Compliment: Sincerely compliment her physical beauty rather than her intellect, causing a system-registered blush. (+45 LP)
The Close Quarters: Press your body tightly against hers in a confined space. (+60 LP)
The Gentle Touch: Wipe a smudge of dirt off her cheek with your thumb. (+30 LP)
The Unwarranted Carry: Pick her up in a "princess carry". (+60 LP)
The Bold Demand: Make her refer to you as "Leader" with genuine shyness. (+50 LP)
I stared at the glowing red text hovering invisibly over the table.
My jaw tightened. These weren't combat missions; they were open-ended psychological minefields. The System didn't care how I accomplished them, only that I harvested their flustered reactions.
If I miscalculated the timing of a "Wall Trap" on Kaelith, she would instinctively decapitate me. If I tried to touch Nyssa's sensitive ears without a flawless excuse, she would incinerate my hands.
But if I did nothing, the System would cripple me in three days. The dungeon raid was scheduled for tomorrow. It would be chaotic and dangerous—the perfect environment to disguise these calculated, intimate maneuvers as heat-of-the-moment tactical necessities.
"Grik?" Rolf asked, waving a hand in front of my face. "You spaced out. We need to head to Ancient Strategy."
I blinked, the red interface fading into the back of my mind, the 72-hour timer ticking down steadily in the corner of my vision.
"I'm fine," I said, standing up from the table. I looked down at Kaelith, whose silver hair caught the ambient light, and then to Nyssa, whose elegant ears twitched slightly at the noise of the hall. They were my party members. My vanguard. My artillery.
And, whether they knew it or not, my prey.
"Let's go to class," I said, a dark, calculating thrill replacing the dread in my stomach. "We have a lot to prepare for tomorrow. The dungeon won't be forgiving."