Chapter 46: The Invoice
The atmosphere in the grand auditorium was suffocating.
It was Monday morning. Every first-year cadet was packed into the sloped wooden seats of the main assembly hall. Usually, these post-expedition debriefs were loud, filled with bragging and exaggerated combat stories.
Today, it was dead silent.
Dozens of students were covered in bandages. Arms were in slings, faces were bruised, and the sheer trauma of the B-Rank mutation hung heavy in the air.
Arthur Vance sat in the back row. He was completely relaxed, his arms crossed over his chest. Beside him, Emily Thorne was leaning forward, her taped fists resting on her knees. Felix sat to his left, his arm secured in a high-tier glowing medical cast, while Chloe practically hid behind her mahogany staff.
When they had walked into the hall ten minutes ago, the whispers had started instantly.
Nobody was calling Arthur a creep. Nobody was mocking his weak lungs or his unawakened class. The cadets who had been trapped in the inner ring had already spread the story. The absolute loser of the academy had taken command of the elite vanguard and executed a Death Knight.
The heavy oak doors at the front of the hall opened.
Professor Elena Moon walked to the center podium. The Archmage was wearing her strictest, highest-collared academic robes, projecting an aura of absolute, freezing authority. But as she set her crystal tablet on the podium, her golden eyes flicked upward, landing entirely on Arthur in the back row for a split second before scanning the rest of the room.
"The administration has concluded its investigation into Friday’s expedition," Elena announced. Her melodic voice carried a sharp, magical weight that demanded absolute attention.
"Due to an unauthorized breach of a containment ward, the F-rank crypt mutated into a B-rank threat," Elena stated coldly. "This was a catastrophic failure of discipline. Dozens of you nearly died because of a single reckless action."
In the center of the room, Leon Braveheart flinched, his head dropping to stare at his boots.
"However," Elena continued, tapping the crystal tablet. "The grading parameters have been adjusted to reflect the extreme duress. Squad Leon."
Leon stood up. Alicia Valentine stood up beside him, her left shoulder heavily bandaged under her uniform.
"For maintaining a defensive perimeter and surviving a Level 45 threat, your squad is awarded an A-Rank," Elena declared. "But let it be recorded that a formal reprimand has been placed on your file for triggering the seal. Sit down."
Leon sank back into his seat, completely hollow. An A-Rank was passing, but the reprimand was a permanent stain on the golden boy’s flawless record.
Elena looked up again. This time, she didn’t hide where she was looking.
"Squad Vance. Stand up."
Arthur casually stood. Emily, Felix, and Chloe scrambled to their feet beside him. The entire auditorium turned to look at the back row.
"For taking command under lethal pressure, holding the frontline, and successfully eliminating a B-Rank Raid Boss..." Elena paused, her golden eyes flashing with a mix of professional respect and deep, undeniable personal heat. "Your squad is awarded an SSS-Rank."
The auditorium collectively gasped.
An SSS-Rank didn’t exist in the standard first-year curriculum. It was a grade reserved entirely for upperclassmen who cleared anomalous dungeon breaks. It meant priority access to academy resources, massive credit stipends, and absolute elite status.
"You will receive your resource stipends by this afternoon. Class dismissed," Elena ordered. She grabbed her tablet and walked off the stage, throwing one last lingering glance at Arthur.
Arthur grabbed his duffel bag and walked out the back doors.
He didn’t make it fifty feet across the cobblestone courtyard before he heard the rapid crunch of boots running up behind him.
"Arthur! Wait!"
Arthur stopped and turned around.
Leon Braveheart jogged up to him. The protagonist’s usual blinding, confident smile was entirely gone. He looked exhausted, eaten alive by absolute guilt.
"Arthur, I just wanted to say thank you," Leon said, his voice completely earnest. He stopped a few feet away, looking Arthur dead in the eye. "If you hadn’t taken command, many would have died. I got reckless. I thought I could cleanse the crypt, and I almost got my entire squad killed. I couldn’t have forgiven myself if the worst had happened."
Arthur stared at him. He didn’t offer a reassuring smile. He didn’t tell the golden boy that everything was okay.
"You’re right," Arthur said bluntly. "You almost got us all slaughtered."
Leon winced, his shoulders slumping. "I know. And I owe you. If there is any way I can repay you for saving our lives—"
"Fifty thousand credits," Arthur interrupted.
Leon blinked, his brain stalling out. "What?"
"You heard me," Arthur said, his voice entirely cold and pragmatic. "Fifty thousand credits."
"I... I mean..." Leon stammered, completely taken aback by the sheer, naked transaction. "That’s a lot of money, Arthur."
Arthur took a step forward, completely invading Leon’s space.
"Do you have any idea how much a high-tier mana potion costs on the open market?" Arthur demanded, his eyes narrowing. "Because of your hero complex, I had to burn through three of them just to keep my mana pool from collapsing. Do you know how much a set of custom Shadow Wolf armor costs? Because yours truly had his shredded trying to kite the boss’s aggro away from your concussed tank."
Leon swallowed hard, looking at the deep scuff marks on Arthur’s boots.
"I am currently dirt poor because I had to empty my quiver keeping your squad alive," Arthur finished, crossing his arms. "So, yes. Fifty thousand credits. Or does the Braveheart family put a lower price tag on the lives of their heirs?"
Leon’s face flushed red with embarrassment. He wasn’t used to people treating him like a mercenary contract. But Arthur was absolutely right.
"No," Leon said, straightening his posture. "You’re right. It’s a fair price for saving our lives. I will wire it to your student scroll by this evening."
"Pleasure doing business with you, Braveheart," Arthur smirked, turning to walk away.
He secured the bag. The SSS-Rank stipend was nice, but shaking down the rich noble protagonist for a massive payout was significantly faster.
"Vance."
Arthur sighed, stopping again. He turned around.
Alicia Valentine was standing ten feet away.
She had been waiting right behind Leon. Her fiery red hair was tied back in a strict ponytail. The heavy bandages wrapped around her left shoulder peeked out from under her collar.
Arthur braced himself for another self-righteous lecture about academy rules or dark magic.
But Alicia didn’t draw her sword. She didn’t cross her arms. Her posture was rigid, but the absolute, freezing contempt she usually reserved for him was entirely gone. It was replaced by a deep, highly conflicted determination.
"What now, Valentine?" Arthur asked, sounding incredibly bored. "Come to accuse me of using illegal steroids again?"
Alicia flinched slightly at the reminder, her cheeks flushing.
"No," Alicia said quietly.
She took a step closer. She looked at him, remembering the exact moment he had materialized out of the shadows, coordinating the battlefield and executing the Death Knight with terrifying, flawless precision. Her worldview was completely shattered. The "pathetic voyeur" was undeniably stronger than her.
Alicia swallowed her massive noble pride.
"How did you get so fast?" Alicia asked. Her green eyes locked onto his, completely serious. "My sword couldn’t even deflect the blunt force of the boss’s swings. I was useless. I need to know how you move like that. I need to get stronger."
Arthur looked at the genius swordswoman of the Valentine Duchy. She wasn’t demanding. She was actually asking.
"You want to get faster?" Arthur asked coldly.
Alicia nodded firmly.
"Then drop your ego," Arthur said bluntly. "You fight like you’re performing a routine in a textbook. You focus entirely on keeping your posture perfect and your strikes elegant. It looks great in a tournament, but in a dungeon, it slows you down by a fraction of a second. Keep your center of gravity low, bend your damn knees, and stop caring about how you look."
Alicia’s jaw dropped slightly. The advice completely contradicted a decade of royal knight training.
"But the Valentine forms dictate—"
"The Valentine forms almost got your head chopped off by a skeleton," Arthur cut her off mercilessly.
He didn’t wait for her to process it. He turned his back on her and kept walking toward the dorms.
Alicia Valentine was left standing alone in the courtyard. She stared at his retreating back, her fists clenching tightly at her sides. Her pride stung, but the undeniable, brutal truth of his words sank deep into her mind.
The dynamic between them was completely broken. And Arthur was the one holding all the pieces.
