The transition from digital world to reality hit like a violent sensory whiplash. One moment, Alvian was surrounded by crisp pine-scented air of the Battle Grid; the next, back in stale stuffy confines of his cramped bedroom. Phantom weight of his gear vanished, replaced by familiar feel of cheap t-shirt and worn-out jeans. The room's silence was deafening after the game world's constant hum.
He pulled the neural link helmet off, dark hair damp with sweat. His body felt sluggish, weak...a pale imitation of the Level 13 powerhouse he'd just been. A jarring, humbling reminder of the divide between game and real world. A divide that would cease to exist in one year's time.
His gaze fell upon the small framed photograph on his desk. His sister, Elara, smiled back at him, eyes full of innocent light. A cold familiar ache tightened in his chest. Everything he was doing, every monster he killed, every rule he broke, for her. To ensure that this time, that smile would never fade.
A soft chime from his PC pulled him from his thoughts. A sleek holographic notification from Overlords Academy admissions office hovered above his monitor.
[Congratulations, Mr. Alvian. Your application has been accepted.]
[Your examination performance was ranked: UNPRECEDENTED.]
[Status: SPECIAL ENTRANT.]
[Please log in to the Overlords Academy secure server to be transported to the campus.]
No time to rest. Every second spent in the real world was a second wasted. He slid the helmet back on, cool metal a comforting weight.
"Log in."
[Ding! Neural Link Established. Synchronizing with Overlords Academy.]
[Welcome, Special Entrant Alvian.]
The world did not reform around him. Instead, he found himself standing on a circular crystalline platform in a vast white space. Before him, a towering gateway of swirling silver energy pulsed with immense power. Not the standard entry point for new students. A private, direct nexus.
[Transportation to Overlords Academy Main Campus commencing. Please stand by.]
He stepped into the gateway. The sensation wasn't of movement, but of the world being re-written around him. Light bent, space warped, then with a final gentle chime, chaos resolved into breathtaking reality.
Alvian's breath caught.
He was standing in a grand open-air plaza paved with gleaming white marble. Before him, the world fell away into endless azure sky. He was on a floating island. Dozens of them, actually. Colossal islands of earth and stone held aloft by some impossible fusion of magic and technology, drifting lazily in the sky, connected by bridges of shimmering solidified light.
Waterfalls cascaded from the edges of highest islands, their spray catching sunlight and creating a permanent web of rainbows that arced through the abyss. Soaring towers of ivory and obsidian pierced the clouds, spires adorned with glowing runes pulsing in slow silent rhythm. Students zipped between islands on backs of majestic griffins or on shimmering arcane discs, laughter echoing in clean crisp air.
This was Overlords Academy. Not just a school, but a self-contained world, a bastion of power floating above the mundane earth. In his past life, he'd only seen it from the ground, a mythical speck in the sky. To be here, to breathe this air...a victory in itself.
"Special Entrant Alvian, I presume?"
A calm polite voice broke his reverie. A young woman in a senior student's uniform—smart dark-blue blazer with silver trim—was approaching him. She held a data slate, offered a small professional smile.
"I am Elara, a student guide. I've been assigned to escort you. Please, follow me."
Her name sent a jolt through him, phantom pain he ruthlessly suppressed. He gave a curt nod, face an unreadable mask.
As they began walking across the plaza, Alvian immediately became the center of attention. Students, previously engrossed in their own conversations, stopped and stared. Their gazes were sharp, analytical, filled with potent mixture of curiosity, suspicion, outright disbelief. Whispers followed them like a trail of smoke.
"That's him. The one who broke the server."
"Alvian? I thought he'd be… bigger. Just looks like a normal guy."
"Normal? Did you see his score? Ten times higher than Valeria's! She's the prodigy of the Knightly Faction, and he made her look like a beginner."
"And that class… 'SkillBurst.' Not in any of the archives. They say he created it himself."
Elara, the guide, seemed to notice his stoicism in the face of attention. "You've become something of a legend overnight," she said, tone neutral. "Your performance in the Battle Grid has become mandatory viewing for all combat instructors. No one has ever achieved a solo kill on a final examination boss before. Most believed it was mathematically impossible."
"It wasn't," Alvian stated simply.
His blunt response seemed to amuse her. "Clearly. Your status as Special Entrant means you bypass standard freshman orientation and dorm assignments. The Headmaster has already appointed your personal mentor. I'm to take you to his laboratory directly."
They stepped onto one of the light bridges, solid path shimmering beneath their feet. Below, the world stretched as a distant patchwork of green and blue. The sheer scale of this place—designed to inspire awe, to remind every student of the heights of power they might aspire to.
As they crossed toward a more secluded smaller island, the architecture began shifting. Pristine ivory towers gave way to older structures of dark rune-etched stone. The air grew colder. A faint smell of ozone and strange alchemical reagents hung heavy. This part of the academy felt ancient, dangerous.
"Most freshmen get assigned to one of the four main Factions: Vanguard, Arcanists, Phantoms, or Sentinels," Elara explained, voice dropping slightly as they entered the shadowed island. "They live and train together. Your path will be… different. Your mentor isn't affiliated with any faction. He's the head of the Department of Forbidden Arts and System Anomalies."
She stopped before a grim cylindrical tower that seemed to absorb light around it. No windows. Only a single heavy iron door etched with complex faintly glowing wards. It looked less like a laboratory, more like a prison.
"Professor Rogge is… eccentric," she said, choosing words carefully. "Undoubtedly one of the most brilliant minds in the academy, but his methods are unconventional. He hasn't taken on a personal student in over twenty years." She looked at Alvian, a flicker of genuine curiosity in her eyes. "He specifically requested you. Said, and I quote, 'Bring me the boy who broke my toy.'"