CHAPTER 85: WHEN THE NPC DOES ALL THE WORK

As Marcus and Cynthia stepped into the final chamber of the dungeon, they were met with a surprise.

The boss was already dead.

And sitting lazily atop its motionless corpse—

The massive, battle-scarred body of a manticore, limbs sprawled unnaturally, its spiked tail snapped at the base and wings folded in eternal stillness—

The manticore’s body still radiated faint heat, steam curling off the blood-caked mane where Trearch lounged. Its fur shimmered with residual enchantments—barrier runes now fractured and leaking dim blue light. Whatever killed it hadn’t just overwhelmed it physically—it had erased its will to fight.

Was Trearch, reclined on a cushion of the beast’s blood-matted mane, dozing as if he’d just finished a light afternoon nap.

Marcus crossed his arms, watching Trearch with narrowed eyes. The man moved like this was all routine, like slaying apex monsters was no more stressful than grading papers.

Is this what late-game power really looked like? Casual. Untouchable. Slightly unhinged? It made him feel—small. Unprepared.

"Oh...?" he murmured, voice thick with grogginess as he stretched his limbs out like a cat. His joints cracked audibly. "Someone already arrived?"

Marcus blinked, scratching his head in clear confusion. "So... did we pass?"

Trearch slid off the manticore’s corpse with a casual grace, landing on the ground as he summoned a glowing rune that shimmered in the air like a translucent, arcane clock. He glanced at it briefly.

"You arrived here four hundred percent faster than the estimated time..." he muttered.

Then, sighing dramatically, he added, "And here I was, already telling your parents you’d be stuck at school overnight."

With an idle flick of his wrist, Trearch crushed the glowing clock between his palms. The rune disintegrated like dust.

"Congrats, you pass," he said flatly.

Then he chuckled, low and sharp.

"But I do have one concern..." he trailed off, eyes narrowing with exaggerated curiosity as he looked at Cynthia. "Why is the little blue girl here wearing... that?"

His gaze lingered on her new attire—an ascended outfit that shimmered with oceanic hues. The flowing watery coat, layered over a sleek bodysuit of rippling blue energy, contrasted sharply with her usual, conservative school uniform.

Cynthia didn’t miss a beat. She lifted two peace signs beside her head, grinning. "Oh... well, you did tell us to gain enlightenment... so I did."

Her voice was calm, confident—strikingly different from her former reserved tone.

Trearch stared at her for a moment longer before smirking. "Well, guess you make a fair point..."

Then his eyes shifted, narrowing at the doorway behind them—the still-glimmering remnants of the rift from the hidden realm they’d exited.

"But... how did you two get here from... whatever that is?" he asked, jabbing a thumb toward the slowly fading portal, its moonlit edges flickering out of existence.

Marcus glanced back at it, the memory of their shortcut still fresh—and sketchy.

"Spatial magic. Reasonable explanation, right?" he offered, a smug grin tugging at his lips.

"No, not at all, Ravenfield," Trearch replied with a bark of laughter. "But I won’t push for answers. I’m sure my coworkers have their own suspicions."

He sat back down onto the manticore’s still-warm corpse, oddly at peace, and despite the battle scene... there wasn’t a single drop of blood on the ground. The beast looked less like it was slain and more like it had simply dropped dead.

He didn’t remember every detail from the game—just key events and mechanics—but not once did a character like Trearch ever come to mind.

Had he missed something important?

Had the game changed?

But before the professor could sprawl out fully again onto the twisted corpse mattress, Cynthia raised her hand.

"Can I ask where the other professors are?" she said plainly. "It doesn’t make sense for them not to be present for a test this huge."

Trearch tilted his head, lips curving into a wry smile. "That’s confidential information, brat."

He waved dismissively, but his tone shifted just enough to imply weight. "But it doesn’t matter. I alone can handle all of you at once..."

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "So we’re just staying here and waiting for the test to finish?"

Trearch yawned, covering his mouth with one hand. "So many questions, yet I have so little energy to answer them."

He paused, his hand lifting into the air.

"I’ll be observing you two... especially you, Cynthia Rein," he said with a knowing chuckle.

Then—without a sound, without a warning rune, without even a flicker of mana—

He snapped his fingers.

And in the blink of an eye, the world warped.

The cold dungeon walls, the corpse, the silence—gone.

In an instant, they were back at the academy.

Back in classroom 1-A.

Marcus’s clothes were dry now, the last trace of their ordeal fading—unlike Cynthia, who still wore the same shimmering outfit from the trial.

The anticlimactic end of Cynthia’s trial came not with a bang, but a quiet return to familiarity. As if it had all been a dream.

"Did they really put us back in homeroom?" Marcus muttered. "After all of that?"

Cynthia chuckled. "Better than another hard fight at least."

"Well, would you look at that... it’s already night," Marcus muttered, walking to the window and staring out at the moonlit campus. The silvery glow washed over the courtyard, casting long, eerie shadows.

"We were inside for that long?" he murmured, half in disbelief. He chuckled softly.

"So—"

He didn’t get to finish.

"Do you have any other plans?" Cynthia asked, her voice light but laced with subtle intent. She was seated casually at a nearby desk, one leg crossed over the other, the moonlight casting a soft shimmer over her ascended attire.

As she spoke, a familiar mechanical chime rang out in Marcus’s mind.

[Current Ongoing Routes]

- Cynthia Route (Crush Developing: 75%)

→ Nightly Stroll Event Unlocked: "Under Starlight, Hidden Motives Bloom..."

Marcus exhaled through his nose, long and tired.

The system still wanted to play games, even now.

He needed answers—real ones—but for tonight... he could play along.

He turned, offering her a casual smile.

"No, I don’t. Anything you want to do?" he asked, his tone light, but his eyes watchful.

Just in case the night held more surprises—because lately, it always did.