With a final polite nod, she gestured to the door. "He's waiting for you. Good luck, Special Entrant."
The heavy iron door swung open with a low groan before Alvian could touch it, revealing not a hallway but the laboratory itself. The moment he stepped across the threshold, the door slammed shut behind him with a resounding metallic clang, plunging him into well-arranged chaos and the potent smell of ozone, something vaguely like burnt sugar.
The room was a vast circular chamber, curved walls lined floor to ceiling with overflowing bookshelves. Not neat orderly shelves... a frantic explosion of knowledge. Tomes bound in leather, scrolls sealed with wax, strange crystalline data-slates crammed into every available space, spilling onto the floor in precarious stacks.
The center was a chaotic mess of arcane equipment. Golems' arms suspended by glowing wires twitched, flexed. Unidentifiable organs pulsed within large fluid-filled glass jars. A holographic map of the cosmos flickered and spun in mid-air, constellations shifting, reforming in impossible patterns. The laboratory of a certified madman.
In the center of it all, hunched over a workbench littered with sparking wires and bubbling beakers... the madman himself.
Professor Rogge was a wiry man with a cloud of unruly white hair that seemed to defy gravity. He wore a lab coat stained with multi-colored chemicals over a mismatched suit, thick multi-lensed goggles pushed up onto his forehead. Muttering to himself, fingers flying as he delicately soldered a glowing rune onto a complex metal sphere.
He didn't look up. Didn't acknowledge Alvian's presence.
"Fascinating," Rogge mumbled, voice a gravelly rasp of pure intellectual obsession. "The energy signature is completely novel. An 'SkillBurst' class… a custom input. You didn't choose from predetermined options; you forced the Genesis System to create a null state. A blank slate. Suicidal. Idiotic. Absolutely brilliant!"
Alvian remained silent, eyes scanning the room, absorbing every detail. This was not a teacher. This was a kindred spirit, a man who saw the world not as a set of rules to be followed, but as a system to be dismantled, analyzed, exploited.
With a final delicate touch and a triumphant "Aha!", Rogge finished his work. The metal sphere hummed, levitated an inch off the table, glowing with steady golden light. Only then did he seem to remember he had a visitor. He spun around in his chair, eyes magnified by spectacles gleaming with manic intensity.
"Alvian! The anomaly! The ghost in the machine! Come in, come in! Don't just stand there like a well-behaved automaton. You're here to break things, not follow social protocols!"
He waved a hand. Several holographic screens materialized in the air around Alvian, displaying a complete frame-by-frame breakdown of his entire examination. One screen showed the code injection for his custom class. Another displayed probability calculations that had guaranteed his SSS-Rank talent. A third screen was a tactical map of the Crystalvein Mines, tracking his invisible path of destruction.
"I've been reviewing your data log for the past twelve hours," Rogge said, words coming in rapid-fire burst of excitement. He hopped off his stool, began pacing around Alvian, examining him not as a student but as a priceless one-of-a-kind specimen. "Do you understand the beauty of what you've done? The System...this entire world...is a grand complex equation. It has rules, parameters, limitations. The vast majority of people, the 'players,' spend their entire lives trying to find the optimal solution within those rules. They grind, form parties, follow the quest lines. They are, for lack of a better word, sheep."
He stopped, jabbed a finger towards the screen showing Alvian's SSS-Rank talent. "[Super Upgrade System]. It doesn't just give you a bonus; it gives you authority to ignore the rules. Prerequisites, material costs, level caps… all irrelevant. It's not a talent, my boy. It's a divine middle finger pointed directly at the core code of this reality!"
A wide, slightly unhinged grin spread across his face. "That is what I study. Anomalies. Variables like you who don't solve the equation but instead choose to smash it to pieces, build something new from the wreckage. You're not a student to me, Alvian. You're the most interesting research project of my career."
Alvian finally spoke, voice calm and measured, a stark contrast to Rogge's manic energy. "What do you want from me, Professor?"
Rogge laughed, a short barking sound. "Want? I want to watch! I want to give you the keys to the castle, see which towers you decide to burn down first! The standard curriculum?" He waved a dismissive hand. "Pathetic. Memorizing spell incantations, practicing sword forms designed for the masses. A waste of your potential. It would be like using a god-slaying blade to chop vegetables."
He strode over to a cluttered desk, picked up a sleek black data-crystal, tossing it to Alvian.
"This is your student ID," Rogge explained. "But it's been… modified. It'll grant you access to any library, any laboratory, any training ground in this academy. Including the restricted ones. Especially the restricted ones. Go. Learn whatever you want. Take whatever you need. If you require a rare material, a forbidden text, or a secluded place to test a catastrophically dangerous new skill, you come to me. My role isn't to teach you but to facilitate your chaos."
This was it. The ultimate key. Unrestricted access. A powerful patron who actively encouraged rule-breaking. Alvian's mind was already alight with a thousand possibilities, calculating the fastest most efficient path to absolute power now that so many doors had been unlocked.
"My research suggests that anomalies thrive when presented with unorthodox problems," Rogge continued, eyes gleaming. "The standard academy exercises are predictable, boring. But there's a special training program for top-ranked freshmen and special entrants. The 'Temporal Simulation.' They send you into a historical crisis with your skills sealed. A test of pure intellect and adaptability."
He leaned in, voice dropping to conspiratorial whisper. "It's a fascinating little puzzle box. Full of secrets. Full of bugs. A perfect playground for someone who thinks outside the box. I'm very, very interested to see what someone like you does when the System takes away your toys."
Alvian looked down at the black student ID in his hand. It felt heavy with potential. He'd come to Overlords Academy to gain power, expecting to have to fight for every scrap, claw his way through the established hierarchy. Instead, the hierarchy had handed him a crowbar, pointed him at the foundations.
He hadn't found a teacher. He'd found an enabler, a sponsor for his war against the limits of this world.
"I'll do it," Alvian said.
"Excellent!" Rogge beamed, already turning back to his workbench.