One week had passed.
For seven full days, Revan isolated himself in his dorm room, skipping classes entirely just to lie stiffly on his bed.
Although his Mistress's healing magic was extraordinary, the recovery process demanded a significant amount of time.
While the effects felt instant and effective in the first few days, the healing rate slowed drastically as the days went by.
'I will never use that cursed potion again in my life.'
That oath was etched into his memory.
The sensation of being forcibly pulled from death only to be thrown back into a hell of pain was an experience that was sufficient to be felt once in a lifetime.
However, in the midst of observing a physique that made him feel like a cripple, his mental health recovered with amazing speed.
For Revan, skipping school for a full week wasn't a punishment. On the contrary, it was a hidden paradise.
No waking up at the crack of dawn. No need to listen to boring lectures about basic mana theory that he had already memorized by heart thanks to the Game Wiki. And the most enjoyable part of it all: He didn't need to see Erison and his lackeys.
The absence of interaction with that main bully brought a detoxification to his soul. No one discussing him, no shoulders intentionally bumped in the hallway, and no cliché arrogant noble drama.
A thin smile, full of satisfaction, was carved on Revan's pale face. His eyes stared at the dormitory ceiling as if it were the most beautiful scenery in the world.
'This is a vacation... quite a vacation.'
His mind briefly drifted to the academic problems that usually haunted students. Did he care about his thinning attendance quota? Or the red marks on his transcript later?
Not at all.
Revan wasn't a scholarship student who had to desperately maintain grades so that next month's meal allowance would still flow. He was also not a shounen protagonist who had to prove himself through exam scores.
He held a card far stronger than academic grades: Connections.
As long as he held the status of Sylvia von Vespera's personal servant, the threat of 'flunking a grade' was just nonsense.
The academy system was corrupt, and no teacher was crazy enough to expel 'property' of the Vespera family just because of attendance issues.
As long as he was useful to the Villainess, his position in this school was absolute.
Unconsciously, a wide grin appeared on his face.
'Ahh... the sweet taste of nepotism.'
This sense of safety born from privilege truly soothed his weary soul.
But, Revan was sane enough not to get completely complacent.
Although safe from the threat of dropping out, he couldn't remain academic trash forever. The problem wasn't the school rules, but his Mistress's reputation.
Sylvia was a perfectionist who embodied arrogance. If her personal servant was known as an idiot who couldn't pass basic exams, it was tantamount to smearing mud on the face of the Vespera nobility.
And Revan knew the consequences very well.
If he embarrassed Sylvia... well, the threat of expulsion sounded far more humane.
Compared to being crushed and crumpled by Sylvia's high-level Gravity Magic for failing to maintain her good name, studying a little in class was probably the wiser choice to preserve his life.
Revan let out a long sigh.
"Comfortable shortcuts... always have their pitfalls."
His gaze then shifted to the corner of the room where his sword stood, sheathed in a dull silver scabbard.
The weapon looked pitiful.
"Looks like I have to find a new toy."
Although it was crafted from materials specifically designed to endure Aura, the intensity of the previous battle had pushed it far beyond its limits.
Forced to channel a torrent of high-level Aura from within while constantly clashing against high-density pressure from the outside, its structural integrity had been eroded severely.
The blade that was once sharp was now jagged and brittle, as if the metal itself had finally surrendered.
"Sorry, old friend."
There was a hint of strange sadness behind his tone. That sword had accompanied him since childhood, a silent witness to every first swing practice until he entered this Academy.
But now, its condition looked bleak.
Even so, Revan had to be rational.
In a world where the scenario was already broken and messy, nostalgia was a shortcut to death. The reality was cruel: he was still too weak.
Like it or not, he had to let go of this keepsake. Whether finding a replacement or re-forging it, his absolute priority right now was getting a decent weapon as soon as possible. Without a sword in hand, he would have no preparation whatsoever to handle the chaos in the upcoming Arc.
"Enough with the nostalgia."
Revan cut off his train of thought right then and there, then forced himself up from his soft mattress.
Remembering the bad scenario awaiting him ahead gave him the motivation to move his body to the city. Well, at least to look at weapons or find a craftsman.
***
Revan stood at the doorway, staring down the long dormitory hallway.
His right hand briefly reached into his pocket, touching the cold surface of a Relief Crystal.
Actually, he could have vanished from this place and appeared in the city in the blink of an eye. The object in his pocket was an Anchor—an item already marked with magical coordinates by Sylvia.
Teleportation anchors weren't limited to crystals.
They existed as fixed reliefs carved into surfaces, just like the faint markings hidden behind his sword stand in the corner, or even direct conduits that allowed one to simply tag along by holding a Mage or stepping into their magic circle.
But for this crystal, the way it worked was simple: he only needed to grip it tightly. The relief did all the heavy lifting. It didn't wait for a flow of energy; the carving itself would aggressively harvest the Mana directly from his body.
Revan immediately pulled his hand back as if the object had just stung him.
"No need. It feels too disgusting to vomit in the morning."
For a Warrior who did not possess natural Mana Circuits, using high-level magic items was torture.
Of course, if Revan were in prime condition, the nausea caused by teleportation would still be tolerable.
But right now, his body had just risen from systemic destruction due to the Elixir. Forcing teleportation in a "machine" that was only half-recovered was tantamount to looking for new trouble. So, walking was the only logical option to maintain his sanity.
It felt like invisible needles stabbing into his flesh, then forcibly pumping his life energy out without passing through the proper channels.
The dense and hard body of a warrior naturally rejected this foreign invasion, creating an extraordinary sensation of nausea, as if all his internal organs were being squeezed.
Unlike when he fought, where his vanishing movement was the result of Pure Physical Speed deceiving the eye, magical teleportation truly tore apart his physical comfort.
"Walking it is."
Revan decided to let the crystal sleep in his pocket. He began to step along the academy corridor leisurely.
After all, his goal wasn't just to save himself from nausea.
There was an impulsive urge to stop by the cafeteria for a bit, just to check today's menu, before continuing the journey to the main gate. But more than that, Revan wanted to feel the atmosphere of this place as an observer.
The academy courtyard was bustling.
In the distance, the sounds of elemental explosions and clashing metal could be heard interchangeably.
Revan observed the scene with a complicated gaze. Honestly, the social drama in this place often made him want to vomit—petty noble schemes, seniority oppression, and all the hypocrisy of the hierarchy truly tested his patience.
However, seeing other students passing by...
Seeing a student release a fireball at the training ground, or two swordsmen sparring with glowing auras...
Inevitably, Revan had to admit one thing.
'Rotten script aside... this world really is something else.'
There was a distinct allure that was hard to explain. Seeing fantasy elements come alive before his eyes gave him a strange visual satisfaction. It reminded him that despite his bad luck as a side character, he truly lived in a world of swords and magic.
And for a moment, being a spectator on the sidelines like this felt far more peaceful than having his body violated by a teleportation tool.
Revan continued to walk, enjoying his role as a bystander.
However, his visual peace was interrupted when he turned a corner in the main corridor.
His steps slowed, then stopped completely. His attention was diverted by a bizarre sight ahead.
"..."
Amidst the crowd in the hallway, a "tower" of books could be seen walking totteringly.
The stack of thick, leather-bound books was so massive and high that it completely swallowed the bearer's body. No face, no body—only a tuft of characteristic green hair peeking shyly from behind the wall of paper, serving as the only clue to the identity of the tiny figure behind it.
It was Elara.
The girl stepped very carefully, resembling an ant carrying a giant breadcrumb. Her legs trembled slightly with every step, trying desperately to maintain balance so the mountain of literature wouldn't collapse onto other students.
Revan could only stare at the phenomenon, his brow furrowing in disbelief.
'What on earth is she doing?'