Chương 4: Westpoint Magitech High School

Westpoint Magitech High School, Central Courtyard. The air hummed with a low, magical resonance—the sound of the school's massive air mana-purification array at work. Sunlight filtered through the heavy, leaden clouds, casting a sickly pale hue over the grounds. Rowan walked down the campus path, his stiff boots thudding against the pavement, a patched messenger bag slung over his shoulder. The students bustling around the campus perfectly illustrated the fractured, contradictory reality of Terra.

Some wore modern tech-wear laced with glowing fluorescent circuits; others draped themselves in classic mage robes woven with energy-gathering gold threads. And then there were those who casually exposed their cold, gleaming magitech cybernetics for all to see. At the edge of the corridor, Rowan even spotted two demi-human students sporting cat ears and tiny demonic horns. Apart from those few animal features, their faces and bodies were entirely human.

Yet, they were quietly ostracized—whether by design or by reflex—by the pure-blooded elite kids, isolated within an invisible bubble. Most students rushed by with anxious expressions, AR projections flickering rapidly across their retinas as they furiously ground through past mock exam papers. There were exactly three months left until the National Unified College Entrance Examination.

According to Republic law, any candidate who passed the final mock exam would be issued a state-distributed "Mana Primordium" to aid their final push in etching a spell model. But this was Westpoint Magitech High, the premier school in the Seventh Abyssal Hive, a gathering place for the children of the elite. Those scions of high-ranking officials and Consortium executives had long since secured alchemical potions through family channels. Many had even practiced the etching process well in advance.

The starting line between normal people and these elites wasn't even in the same dimension. In a shadowed corridor leading to the teaching block, Victor was conversing in hushed tones with his cronies. As the only son of the Deputy Chief of the Public Security Bureau, his intelligence channels ran far deeper than the average student's.

"... Julian is genuinely panicking this time," Victor toyed with his high-end tactical terminal, a mocking smirk playing on his lips.

"My old man told me the Aether Consortium just held a family meeting last week. Julian's internal rating was pushed below the red line by his younger brother. If that little brother successfully gets into Terra First Magitech University, Julian might actually get bumped from his position as first-in-line heir."

"How the hell is that gutter rat still breathing? I heard Julian cut off all the coolant quotas for the lower levels yesterday. How the hell did he survive the preliminary screening?" one of Victor's lackeys asked in astonishment as he saw Rowan walk past.

"He's a madman, that's why," a demi-human boy with tiny cat ears shrank further into the shadows, keeping his voice incredibly low.

"But passing the prelims is just a death sentence anyway. I heard this year's Military 'Combat Department' special admission assessment is an expedition into a newly discovered ancient ruin. You know how many people come back from those? Almost none. Even the elite kids who value their lives are staying the hell away. Only a desperate rat like him would gamble his life on it."

"What do you know? Julian signed up for it too," another boy leaned in, practically whispering.

"The second Consortium prince of the Sterling family made a huge splash in the Magitech Technology Department's special admissions. If Julian doesn't risk it all for the Military admission, he'll be completely left behind. I guess the heir's seat really is the ultimate motivator."

"Old grudges, fresh desperation—this'll be a good show," Victor remarked, his gaze casually following Rowan's retreating back. Rowan walked into the courtyard. In the center of the fountain, several crystalline "Pure-Water Slimes" drifted lazily through the pool. These magical creatures required incredibly strict living conditions and had long since gone extinct in the polluted wild. Now, they were merely used as living water purifiers for private schools.

Rowan stared at the transparent blobs of slime for a few seconds, but his mind flashed back to the otherworldly rabbit he had personally butchered last night—its coarse flesh brimming with explosive energy. Slimes were the playthings of Terra's elite, but in the other world, he was slaughtering raw, primal wildlife that had long since gone extinct here. This extreme disconnect made everything around him feel somewhat surreal.

"Hey, look over there. It's Cecilia."

"I heard she's aiming to hit the guaranteed admission threshold for Terra First Magitech University in tomorrow's mock exam. Her family prepared a whole custom set of processing plug-ins for her."

"And look at Simon from the Potion Department. Word is he's already been pre-admitted to the Potion R&D Division of the Yggdrasil Energy and Chemical Group. He's taking the special joint-training route." Low murmurs rippled through the crowd as the topic quickly shifted to another focal point. In their discussions, there was no need to mention Rowan's name. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Up until the end of junior high, education was compulsory, giving poor geniuses like Rowan a chance to stand out. But high school was when the factions behind the students began to flex their true power. People like Rowan had long since lost their "potential." On Terra, having no money meant having no potential.

"Yo, Rowan! You ain't dead yet, kid?" A heavy palm slapped down hard on Rowan's left shoulder, followed by the faint whirring of magitech gears. Turning around, Rowan was met with the sight of a two-meter-tall behemoth built like a bear. Rad's right arm was a magitech prosthetic gleaming with cold metal, and a glowing blue mechanical eye had replaced his right eye socket. Rad, Rowan's only buddy—a tough guy obsessed with extreme body modification.

He flashed a wide grin, revealing a row of alloy dentures, and lowered his voice.

"Listen, Julian's lapdogs have been lingering around the gates. The moment you showed your face this morning, the news definitely went straight back to him."

"Expected," Rowan replied indifferently, his eyes sweeping over the crowd. In the center of the crowd, Cecilia stood as eternally cold as an ice sword. Since junior high, Rowan knew her father was a high-ranking official in the "Public Resource Distribution Bureau"—the very department wielding the absolute power to distribute the low-grade synthetic nutrient paste to Sector 4. In a way, sewer rats like Rowan had her father to thank for barely staying alive.

During their first year of high school, her grades had always been firmly surpassed by Rowan, and the two had secretly competed. But as Rowan's debt pressure grew heavier, leaving him unable to afford expensive potions and magitech materials, the gap between them had widened into an impassable chasm. She walked past Rowan without so much as a glance, as if he weren't there at all. She was heading toward the pinnacle, Terra First Magitech University.

Meanwhile, in the eyes of everyone else, Rowan had faded into obscurity a year ago; even attending a second-rate college was a pipe dream for him. Behind her was Simon, the nerd who buried his head in potion bottles all day. He pushed up his heavy magitech glasses, the tips of his fingers still stained blue from some corrosive chemical, completely uninterested in his surroundings.

"Rowan, come to the office for a moment," Mr. Miller, his homeroom teacher, waved from a distance. In the office, the teacher sighed and pushed a registration form across the desk.

"Rowan, I know you have a solid foundation, and I know you took first place in the mid-terms back in the day. But take your teacher's advice. Enter the 'Early Admission' batch. Go to one of those second or third-rate schools. You'll only end up doing maintenance on the assembly lines, but at least you'll keep your life. The mortality rate for the Combat special admission is too high. And... you can't afford to provoke Julian." Mr.

Miller didn't know about Rowan's 180, 000-credit death warrant, nor did he know that Rowan had been completely blacklisted on the Akashic Network by the Aether Consortium. Other than the military exam, he had no way out.

"Thank you, Mr. Miller. But I'm applying for the special admission," Rowan said politely, pocketing the form before turning to leave. It was his only path to survival. The Mid-Upper Levels of the Seventh Abyssal Hive. The Sterling Family Manor. From a holographic projection, an old, authoritative voice echoed through the room: "Julian, as your uncle, I must remind you that the family will not directly intervene to crush a slum bug for you.

If you can't even resolve a 'minor nuisance' like this, it proves you lack the caliber to inherit 'Aether'." Julian killed the projection, his face darkening with gloom. Sitting on a luxurious leather sofa, he pulled up the "Combat Department Special Admission Preliminary Screening List" on his holographic screen. In the entire Seventh Abyssal Hive, only Westpoint Magitech High School possessed the qualification to submit names for this single military quota.

And right now, on that list blinking with an ominous crimson light, only two names remained: Julian Sterling, and... Rowan Vance. The military's recruitment criteria explicitly demanded "Low-Modification Subjects." This meant that in next month's final practical assessment, Julian would be forced to shut down all his priceless cybernetic implants.

Without the cheat codes bought by wealth, he wasn't entirely confident he could beat that freak Rowan—who was used to pushing his physical body to the absolute limit—in pure combat. If he lost, he wouldn't get the acceptance letter to Terra First Magitech University, and his position as the family heir would truly be in jeopardy. As long as Rowan was alive, he was an uncontrollable, lethal variable. And variables had to be erased.

"That piece of trash actually passed the test without coolant..." Julian's handsome face was terrifyingly grim. He flat-out refused to believe a bottom-feeding rat could endure that kind of heat with just flesh and blood. Rowan must have obtained illegal coolant from some unknown source. Thinking of this, he sneered coldly and dialed the encrypted direct line of the Public Security Bureau's "Contraband Search Squad." The Aether Consortium's tentacles had long since penetrated the official government institutions.

"Under the name of Consortium Credit Surveillance, I'm reporting Rowan Vance of the Seventh Hive for illegal possession of 'unregistered, high-purity magitech materials.' Lead a team to raid him. Make a scene. And during the search... it would be perfectly normal to accidentally 'smash' a vial of Beast Inducer, right? Make sure you use the latest model for me..." He had heard the 'mutant beasts' in the underhive were starving to the point of madness lately.

Julian picked up an ice-crystal goblet from the table and took a sip. The goblet itself, which naturally chilled any liquid poured into it, cost about a year and a half's salary for ten miners.

"Gary, let's resume training," Julian opened his terminal and called for his physical combat instructor.

"......" Back in his dilapidated rented room, Rowan locked the iron door and dumped the contents of his bag onto the table. He had spent nearly 1, 500 Terra Credits. A secondhand "High-Frequency Vibro-Dagger." Even without channeling mana, its built-in mana battery could power vibrations capable of slicing right through ordinary beast hide. A lightweight "Magitech Stab-Proof Liner," tough enough to repel thrusts from an ordinary blade.

A pair of Tactical Binoculars, perfect for scouting his surroundings and avoiding dangerous mana-beasts. Right now, he was more than twice as strong as he had been two days ago. The Möbius ring on his right wrist surfaced with that familiar luster once more. Rowan checked his AR projection; roughly 23 hours and 57 minutes had passed. Is there a slight time dilation between the two worlds? Or is the cooldown just basically 24 hours?

He gripped the cold handle of the vibro-dagger tightly, a profound depth in his eyes.

"Now, it's my turn to secure my second windfall." The heart-stopping, faint blue light slowly began to rotate on his wrist. As the spatial rift peeled open once more, Rowan's figure vanished instantly from the sour, polluted air of the Terra world.