At ten years old, Leo was a masterpiece of the Draker bloodline. His body was lean, his silver hair was sharp, and his eyes held a depth of violet that made even the elder liches of the family uncomfortable.
The morning of his departure for the **Imperial Academy** arrived. Outside, the black carriage with its undead stallions waited, and his father's twenty-three wives were gathered to wave him off. But inside his room, Leo had one final piece of "business" to attend to.
### The Pre-School Ritual
Leo locked his heavy oak door. He knew that the Academy was a den of vipers, geniuses, and high-ranking beauties. To navigate the entrance exams and the social shark-tank without being distracted by his own surging "vitality," he needed a clear head.
He sat on his bed, pulled up his mental "catalog" of memories from his past life—the legends like Mia and Johnny—and began to **goon**.
For thirty minutes, he pushed his mana and his physical body to the absolute limit of endurance. This wasn't just masturbating; it was a ritualistic purge. As the white liquid finally erupted, Leo felt the "Brain Fog" lift. His mana stabilized into a cold, terrifyingly sharp edge.
He cleaned up, sprayed a bit of expensive cologne to mask the scent of his "training," and walked out. His mind was now a fortress of pure logic and cold ambition.
---
### Arrival at the Imperial Academy
The Academy was a sprawling complex of floating spires and marble coliseums. As Leo stepped from his carriage, the whispers started immediately.
"That's him... the Draker heir."
"I heard he killed a Forest Troll when he was eight."
"Look at his eyes... he looks like he's looking through us."
Leo ignored them. He was headed toward the Great Hall when three girls stepped out, blocking the main path. They were the "Main Attractions" of the freshman class.
### The Imperial Twins and the Kingdom's Sword
Standing in the center were the twin daughters of the **Emperor**.
**Princess Seraphina**, the "Ice Queen," looked at Leo with frozen disdain. Next to her was **Princess Lyra**, whose red hair practically smoked with fire mana. She looked like she wanted to pick a fight immediately.
"So, the All-Rounder finally arrives," Lyra snapped, crossing her arms. "You're late, Draker. Do you think being a Duke's son makes you special? Here, the Imperial blood is law."
Leo looked at her, his expression completely blank thanks to his recent "session." "I was busy," he said simply.
Before Lyra could explode, a third girl stepped forward. She was **Isolde**, the only daughter of the **Kingdom of Valerius**. She was taller than the twins, wearing leather armor that hugged a body built for war. A legendary rapier hung at her hip.
"Ignore the firecracker," Isolde said, her voice like velvet-wrapped steel. She looked Leo up and down, her eyes lingering on his hands. "I've heard the Drakers can use every weapon. I'm the best sword in the Kingdom. I want to see if your 'All-Rounder' title is just a marketing gimmick."
Leo looked at the three of them—the cold intellectual, the fiery brat, and the warrior woman. In his past life, he would have been a stuttering mess. Now, with his mind cleared and his mana humming, he just saw three potential additions to his future court.
"I don't have time for duels right now," Leo said, walking straight between them, his shoulder brushing against Seraphina's. "I have a class to lead. If you want my attention, try being interesting."
He didn't look back.
"Did he just... brush past us?" Seraphina whispered, a faint blush of anger (or something else) creeping onto her pale cheeks.
"He didn't even look at my chest!" Lyra hissed, offended for a completely different reason.
Isolde didn't say anything. She just touched the hilt of her sword, her heart pounding. The Gooner Necromancer hadn't even been at the school for ten minutes, and he had already disrupted the social order of the Empire.
Leo had barely finished his encounter with the princesses when he realized his "post-purge" clarity was already being tested. The presence of three high-tier beauties had spiked his mana levels again. He needed a sanctuary to recalibrate before the actual lectures began.
He navigated the winding, gothic hallways of the Academy until he found **Lecture Hall 4-B**. He checked the schedule posted on the magically enchanted parchment outside: *Advanced Arcane Geometry – 10:00 AM.* It was only 9:15 AM.
He pushed the heavy doors open. The room was a massive amphitheater of dark mahogany and floating candles. It was silent. It was cold. It was **empty**.
### The Sacred Solitude
Leo scanned the room with his mana-sight. No hidden familiars, no invisible observers, and no surveillance spells. He walked to the very back row—the "Gooner's Corner"—and slumped into the plush velvet seat.
"The pressure of this world is intense," Leo muttered to himself, his hand already reaching for his belt. "If I don't stay leveled, I'll lose my edge."
He didn't need a screen anymore. His mind was a high-definition library of every "artistic" memory from his previous life. He closed his eyes and summoned the mental image of his first "milf" encounter from the web—the one that started it all.
With the terrifying focus that only a Draker could possess, he began his session.
The air around him began to hum. In this world, everything was connected to mana. As Leo entered his "trance," his body began to leak raw, unrefined Prana. The floating candles in the room flickered and turned a deep, lustful purple. A faint mist of "Vitality" began to swirl around his desk.
He was reaching the "Edge." His breath hitched, and his silver hair stood on end as the Necromantic energy in his veins pulsed in sync with his movements. He was using the sheer friction of his own life-force to harden his internal mana circuits. To an outsider, it would look like a degenerate act; to a Draker, it was **Extreme Cultivation**.
---
### The Unfinished Climax
Just as Leo was about to reach the summit—the moment where the "white liquid" would once again serve as his magical offering—the heavy doors at the bottom of the amphitheater creaked open.
Leo's eyes snapped open. His hand froze. With a level of physical control that would make a master assassin jealous, he tucked himself away and adjusted his robes in a single, fluid motion.
"Oh! I didn't think anyone would be here yet," a voice chirped.
It was **Isolde**, the Kingdom's sword-prodigy. She was carrying a stack of heavy combat manuals. She stopped halfway down the aisle, sniffing the air. Her nose crinkled.
"What is that smell?" she asked, looking up toward the back row where Leo sat, looking perfectly composed. "It smells like... ozone? And something sweet. Like burned incense and... raw energy?"
Leo leaned back, his face a mask of cold, aristocratic indifference, despite the fact that his heart was still thumping at 160 BPM.
"It's called **Cultivation**, Isolde," Leo said, his voice dropping an octave into a smooth, vibrating baritone. "The House of Draker doesn't wait for teachers to start learning. I was simply... warming up my core."
Isolde stared at him. She felt a wave of heat hit her face just by being in the same room. The "Vitality" Leo had released was so thick it was practically an aphrodisiac for anyone with high mana sensitivity.
"Warming up?" she whispered, her grip tightening on her books. "The air in here is vibrating. Just how much power do you have?"
"More than you can handle in one session," Leo replied, standing up and smoothing out his uniform.
He walked past her, leaving her standing in the mist of his lingering "training." He hadn't finished his goon-session, which meant he was now walking around with a "loaded" mana pool. He was dangerous, frustrated, and completely overpowered.
The first day of school was officially in session.
The atmosphere in Lecture Hall 4-B was thick enough to cut with a dagger. The purple-tinted mist of Leo's "Vitality" swirled around the mahogany desks, and the air hummed with the raw, rhythmic pulse of a Draker at work.
Leo was deep in the trance. His eyes were rolled back slightly, his silver hair glowing with a faint, necrotic aura. He was at the absolute peak, the "edge" where his mana was screaming to be released. He didn't hear the doors open. He didn't hear the soft gasps of three girls entering the room together.
**Princess Seraphina**, **Princess Lyra**, and **Isolde** stood frozen in the doorway.
They weren't looking away. They couldn't.
### The Divine Sight
"Is he...?" Lyra whispered, her face turning a shade of red that matched her hair. Her eyes were wide, locked onto the "Draker Heirloom" currently in Leo's hand.
"By the gods," Seraphina breathed, her "Ice Queen" persona melting instantly. As a high-tier mage, she didn't just see the physical act—she saw the **mana**. To her eyes, Leo's "dih" wasn't just flesh; it was a conduit of blinding, white-hot energy. It was perfectly formed, radiating a level of power that made her own magical core tremble.
Isolde, the warrior, stepped forward, her hand trembling as she watched the sheer physical endurance of his movements. "Look at the technique... the rhythm. He isn't just... doing it. He's controlling the flow of his entire soul."
### The Ancient Secret
Just as Leo reached the "climax," sending a shockwave of mana through the room that blew out several candles, he realized he wasn't alone. He slowed down, his hand still gripped tight, and looked down at the three most powerful girls in the Academy.
He didn't panic. He didn't cover up. He looked at them with the cold, bored eyes of a Master.
"Are you here for the lecture," Leo asked, his voice vibrating with the tension of his unfinished session, "or are you here to watch the demonstration?"
Lyra and Seraphina were speechless, their gazes still glued to his "vitality," but **Isolde**, the daughter of the Kingdom of Valerius, stepped forward with a look of profound realization.
"I knew it," Isolde whispered, her voice full of awe. "The legends in my Kingdom's forbidden library were true."
The two Imperial Princesses turned to her, confused. "What legends?"
"The **'Aethel-Strok'**," Isolde explained, pointing at Leo's glowing form. "It is an ancient, lost technique used by the God-Kings of the First Age. They called it 'Gooning.' By manually stimulating the Root Chakra while holding the mind in a state of total, obsessive focus, one can force the mana to circulate through the meridians at ten times the normal speed. It's the ultimate way to improve mana flow and expand the 'tank.'"
### The Impressed Harem
Seraphina's eyes lit up with scholarly greed—and a lot of something else. "So... that's why the House of Draker are All-Rounders? They use this... Gooning... to harden their cores?"
"Look at the size of his 'conduit'," Lyra muttered, her initial anger replaced by a terrifyingly intense curiosity. "If that's how he trains his mana, his stamina must be... limitless."
Leo slowly stood up, finally adjusting his trousers as the purple mist began to settle into his skin. He felt like a god. The admiration in their eyes was better than any screen back in his basement.
"It's a difficult path," Leo said, walking down the stairs toward them, his presence making all three girls take a step back in a mix of fear and attraction. "Most men don't have the... 'stamina' to goon for as long as I do."
"Teach us," Seraphina said suddenly, her face flushed. "I mean... teach us the theory! If it improves mana flow, the Imperial family needs this knowledge."
Leo smirked, his violet eyes flashing. He had only been at school for an hour, and the Emperor's daughters were already asking for "private lessons" in the ancient art of gooning.
"Maybe later," Leo said, brushing past them. "I have a seat to take. But keep your eyes open. Class is about to start."
Leo stood at the front of the amphitheater, the lingering scent of ozone and "Vitality" clinging to his silk uniform. He looked at the three most powerful teenagers in the continent—the Ice Queen, the Flame Brat, and the Sword Saint—and saw them hanging on his every word.
"You're curious," Leo said, his voice smooth and cold. "But there is a fundamental barrier between my family's power and your potential."
He gestured vaguely toward his waist, where the faint glow of his recent "training" still pulsed behind the black fabric.
### The Mystery of the "Dih"
"To perform the **Aethel-Strok**—the ancient art of Gooning—one requires a specific magical conduit," Leo explained, his violet eyes locking onto Seraphina's. "We call it the **Dih**. It is a specialized physical and spiritual organ that acts as a pressure valve for the soul. By manipulating the Dih, a Draker can compress his mana until it becomes as dense as diamond."
The three girls leaned in, their faces flushed.
"But," Leo continued, a cruel smirk playing on his lips, "you three have a problem. You don't have a Dih. Without it, you are trying to channel a tsunami through a garden hose. Your mana flow is... amateur at best."
"There must be a way!" Lyra blurted out, her fire mana flickering nervously around her fingertips. "Are you saying we can never reach the peak of the All-Rounder path just because we weren't born with a... Dih?"
### The Private Proposal
Leo let out a short, aristocratic laugh. He began to pack his leather satchel, moving with the unbothered grace of a predator who had already won.
"Perhaps there is a way to bridge the gap," Leo mused, walking toward the exit. "There are... collaborative techniques. Ways to use *my* Dih to jump-start the mana circuits of those who lack one. But such things are not for a public lecture hall."
He stopped at the door, looking back over his shoulder at the three of them. They looked like they were ready to follow him anywhere.
"I won't say more here," Leo said, his voice dropping to a low, suggestive hum. "The secrets of the Draker 'Endurance' are far too dangerous for the uninitiated. If you truly wish to understand the power of the Gooner, you will need **private lessons**."
He let his gaze linger on Isolde's sword, then Lyra's hair, and finally Seraphina's lips.
"My dormitory is in the Obsidian Wing. Room 101. Bring your own mana-crystals... and an open mind."
With that, he stepped out into the hallway, leaving the three princesses standing in the silence of the empty classroom.
"Private lessons?" Lyra whispered, her face burning. "In his room?"
"It's for the sake of the Empire's magic," Seraphina said, though she was already checking her reflection in a small hand-mirror, smoothing her hair.
Isolde didn't say anything. She was already calculating how early she could show up to Room 101 without looking desperate. The Gooner Necromancer had the Academy exactly where he wanted it.