How To Survive A Calamity-Chapter 240 - 239: Muscle Derrick’s Ingenious Idea [2]
"Simple. Challenge whoever you want. Beat them, take their rank. Lose? Points slashed off your evaluations so deep you'll still feel it next semester. Oh, and you can't refuse. That's my class."
That was the entire premise of today's lesson—in Macho Derrick's own words.
"Pathetic! My grandmother's left bicep hits harder than that! Next challenger!"
He roared with laughter, a booming chortle echoing off the walls, as the most recent cadets—humiliated by Ceres—scrambled off the arena, whimpering.
"Anyone else with less than a liver and half the kidneys want to try her again?"
Silence. Heavy, suffocating silence. Not even half a whisper from the first-years dared to rise against Derrick's mockery.
The class was being held in one of the massive extracurricular halls of the First-Year facility—a cavernous chamber with a broad arena at its center, surrounded by tiered, theater-like seating.
Only Class A, B, C, and D had been gathered here. Coincidentally—or maybe not—all of the top ten cadets happened to be spread across these four classes.
The arena itself was wide and massive, so there were a few more duels taking place at once across different spaces—some more thrilling than others.
But for obvious reasons—
Ceres' challenges, and those of the higher rankers, took more precedence and were way more interesting. Even though half of them involved a one-sided beat down, they were still fun to watch.
As much fun as it was when you weren't the one getting beaten.
Derrick's words managed to tickle something inside me.
I glanced at Ceres' form down in the arena from my seat and grinned.
I wondered how big the gap between Ceres and me was now that I had ranked up.
I was tempted to almost raise my hand and find out. The keyword was almost.
Was I insane? Yes.
Was I suicidal? Most likely.
But was I lying? No.
Regardless of facts and statistics, I was being completely honest with myself.
My long-since dormant fighting spirit stirred lightly as I watched Ceres fight, cadets flying around like leaves in autumn. It was a familiar and nostalgic feeling I hadn't felt in a while.
My bloodlust.
But it wasn't that extreme. What I felt now was just pure curiosity.
About how wide the power gap between Ceres and me was currently.
The invite was tempting. I meant it, despite knowing full well the answer to my curiosity.
The gaps between Ranks were large—and expanded even more the higher one went. There were also the Realms to consider.
She was Hero-ranked, an Ascended of the Heroic Ranks.
I was Eta-ranked, still part of the Awakened Ranks despite being at the last step.
The last time we dueled, I was at the peak of Mortal Rank. And even though I may have inched the power gap between us just slightly, it was still immense.
Like pouring a bottle of water into a wide canyon—it didn't fill anything.
Still, I wanted to fight her. I wanted to see— to feel it myself.
It wasn't a matter of winning or losing— I honestly couldn't care less about the outcome.
If I had to say...
...for the thrill?
But that's also why I couldn't. I restrained myself at the last minute and sat put.
If I went down to fight Ceres right now, it wouldn't be unrestrained.
Either we'd both have to hold back, or Ceres wouldn't use her full strength against me. For now, I doubted she had any reason to, considering she only used her fists against me the last time.
Plus, I recalled that in the Dungeon, Ceres mentioned something about being suppressed by the academy at that time.
But it was likely only during then, to even out the Practical Field Experience. After all, Ceres was the only Ascended entity among other Mortal or Eta Ranked cadets.
So I doubted such restrictions still applied even now— but you never know.
Still, I wanted an unrestrained, no-holds-barred fight as much as possible.
A real spar, at the very least.
What was happening now wasn't much more than a kids' fight. Even Ceres, with all her unbothered elegance and ice-queen poise, looked… bored.
I couldn't exactly explain how I could tell, but I've gotten better at catching the nearly invisible shifts in her expression since that day with Aurhea—when Ceres showed more emotion than I'd ever thought possible from her.
I must be insane… I smiled wryly, actually entertaining the thought of a no-holds-barred fight against the Rank 1 monster of the First Year.
In my defense—it's been a long while since I had to suppress the psychotic battle junkie tendencies I carried over since reincarnation. I thought I had them under control. I didn't even feel this way when I challenged Ceres to that official duel at the start of the semester.
But apparently, I wasn't the only one. Maybe the first, but definitely not the only one.
A familiar figure rose from the crowd of cadets, striking and impossible to miss—her long red hair blazing like fire under the light.
"I will," Deandra said, her steady voice cutting cleanly through the silence.
Her gaze locked onto Ceres—who stared back, cool and unreadable—before shifting to Muscle Derrick.
Her eyes burned with unyielding conviction, tempered by that same aloofness that made her look like she belonged on a battlefield rather than a classroom bench.
"I, Rank Two—Deandra Lunar De'Lacurt—challenge Rank One, Ceres Walker, for her rights, rank, and privileges as Number One."
The red-haired princess's voice cut through the silence like a blade. Her eyes burned—not wild and tempestuous as they often did, but steady, focused, and brilliant. Fire, honed and disciplined.
Macho Derrick's grin widened, his thick shoulders trembling with barely contained laughter.
"Are you sure about this, little princess? You do know what happens if you lose, right?"
Deandra didn't waver. She let his words hang in the air, her silence deliberate, her gaze locked unflinchingly on Ceres.
"Naturally," the princess simply said—calm, resolute. As though the challenge were nothing more than stating a fact.
As though it were the most natural thing in the world.
