Chapter 455 - 457: New Models

It was pretty obvious they had played Renata.

"Yeah, I guess the student council president knew his mana levels were crazy..."

"I feel bad for Renata. She just got scammed out of a hundred million zeni... how’s she even going to pay that?"

"Don’t be ridiculous. It’s obvious she won’t. The president doesn’t need the money—she just wants to humiliate Renata. She’ll probably just make her do something tough..."

Renata gritted her teeth. Her ego had overridden her reason. She knew it was a trap—felt it in her bones—but she couldn’t back down. Not after months of pressuring Lilith, not after spending so long trying to dig up whatever secrets the girl was hiding. She’d found nothing. Only suspicions.

And now?

’It all changed when that bastard Damon Grey came back... I am going to make him pay...’

Meanwhile, Damon casually ignored Renata as the next phase of this little performance began. He doubted anything they threw at him would be particularly difficult. Even the professors—especially the third-class ones—would fall to him if he went all out. The only people who might actually pose a threat were those monsters hidden among the faculty—fourth class or above.

Still, they had to make it interesting.

He highly doubted they’d disappoint him by sending anything too weak.

Then he looked ahead—expression deadpan.

The Headmaster stroked his beard thoughtfully.

"These are combat automatons. I’m sure you’re familiar with them since you faced weaker models during your mid-semester evaluation."

He gestured toward the four looming constructs.

"These, however... these are far more advanced. Each is powered by several rank-four monster cores and reinforced with magic seals and high-quality magisite. We estimate their combat power to be about rank three—at most—but we haven’t properly tested them."

Professor Emeralda nodded, her voice clipped.

"We developed them in collaboration with the Eldorian Magic Academy in Areona. The designs come from the magic continent. They’re resistant to magic—and thanks to the magisite embedded in them, they absorb magical energy as well."

Damon glanced at the metallic warriors with a thin, unreadable smile.

"So basically, you bought prototypes meant to render my massive mana pool obsolete. The magisite will drain my spells, and their innate resistance means my magical attacks won’t do much anyway..."

Emeralda smiled, her green hair swaying faintly.

"That’s right."

Damon nodded slowly.

’They want to see me go all out with my skills and spells...’

"Fair enough. But why are there four of them... at once?"

Lilith held her chin, her green eyes half-lidded.

"The academy wants combat data. It’s a field test—for both you and the machines. They evaluate your performance while also gauging the automata’s efficiency. A win-win for them."

Renata sneered.

"It’s obvious. That’s why they’re humanoid—built like adventuring parties. Still, the production cost is too high for actual wartime deployment. If they prove powerful enough to justify the investment, they’ll market them... and make back the research money."

The Headmaster smiled, clearly pleased.

His students were sharp. Naturally, that was the idea. These were the improved models.

"Yeah, I remember those back in the mid-semester evaluation," someone muttered from the crowd. "They almost killed us."

"Before or after that bastard Damon tried to burn us alive in the Evil Forest?"

"Damn, you first-years really have it rough..."

"You have no idea."

"Come on, guys, he’s not that bad—"

The boys sneered at the girl defending him.

Damon stared at the automata. There were four of them—each one a towering construct, roughly three meters tall. They stood like an adventuring party, each with a distinct role.

A tank stood in front, shield raised. Fully armored—his body was technically all armor. There was likely nothing inside but fragile mana circuits, reinforced runes, and maybe a few expensive inner components.

To his left, a swordsman. Slightly slimmer, but no less powerful.

Behind them, an archer—quiver bristling with massive arrows that looked more like spears than projectiles.

’If that hits me... I’m dead,’ Damon thought.

...Well, not dead. Horribly injured? Sure. But he’d survive. He was, after all, a death seeker who was also deathless.

The fourth automaton was the mage. Tallest of them all, its frame pulsed with embedded mana cores, its hands gripping a massive staff. It radiated dangerous magical capability.

Damon turned toward the Headmaster.

"What weapons are allowed?"

"Anything, as long as you don’t use magic artifacts."

He nodded, glancing briefly at Matia—who, by now, was no longer the center of attention. She stood silently, arms folded, eyes blank.

Damon’s gaze dipped briefly to her figure—not that her uniform would’ve fit her anymore.

Still he had to admire how cool she looked in armor.

"What about her? Is she fighting?"

The Headmaster chuckled.

"No need. She’s in the third class advancement. We don’t have anything here that could push her. Besides, these are meant for you."

Damon scoffed.

"A little unfair, but fine. You’re the ones about to lose four expensive machines..."

An academy staff handed him a sword. It was standard issue—well-made, but plain. No runes, no magic circuits, no enchantments.

Damon spun it once in his palm.

"Fine. Let’s start with something basic..."

Without warning, he launched a magic Gatling burst from his palm—a dense barrage of magic bullets that roared toward the automata.

The tank raised its shield. The bullets slammed into it—absorbed instantly by the magisite embedded across its plating.

The crowd roared.

"At last! That bastard’s reign is coming to an end!"

"Beat him senseless! I lost so many points when he burned down the Evil Forest!"

"Ha! Look at him! All that mana is useless now!"

The archer fired. Damon ducked beneath the arrow’s path—the projectile slammed into the arena, sending up a shockwave of dust and shattered stone.

He didn’t have time to breathe.

The tank charged, shield first.

The swordsman flanked.

The mage raised its staff, lightning crackling from its runes.

Damon spun into the air, dodging the lightning bolt by a hair. He landed hard, his sword clashing with the automaton swordsman’s blade. The impact sent tremors through the arena floor. Cracks webbed across the stone beneath their feet.

He gritted his teeth at the shock in his palms.

"Not bad, Headmaster... not bad at all..."

Emeralda chuckled from the sidelines.

"Still acting arrogant, I see."

Damon smiled back.

"If mana gets absorbed... shouldn’t I use something a little different—but far more destructive?"

The sword in his hand trembled.

Then—it ignited.

Pitch black flames surged up the blade, twisting unnaturally as if warping the very air around it. The heat intensified. The arena lights dimmed. Shadows twisted unnaturally at his feet.

Damon winced.

The pain was sharp—but he forced it down, face twitching in silent agony.

And then, with a sweeping slash—

A black wave surged forward, crackling with flame and shadows

Ashborn.