The next day, Max did his best to keep a low profile, but it was clear people were paying more attention to him than usual. Every so often, he’d catch a student stealing glances his way.
He hunched slightly in his chair, pretending not to notice. ‘Maybe I should’ve just kept my mouth shut yesterday…’
Instead of dwelling on it, Max forced himself to focus on today’s lesson—engineering.
Surprisingly, he found it interesting. That was… unusual.
‘Is it the previous Max? Did I inherit some of his interests?’ He frowned slightly at the thought. Engineering had never fascinated him before, yet here he was, listening intently.
At the front of the classroom, Professor Jarman adjusted his thick-rimmed glasses, his voice carrying an undeniable enthusiasm.
"Using an X380 processor, we are able to separate light into multiple beams. When paired with a Z10809 board, it can capture human movement at light speed, allowing us to construct a real-time holographic image."
The professor tapped a panel on his desk, and a shimmering blue projection of a humanoid figure appeared above it, twisting and rotating in midair.
Murmurs of intrigue spread across the classroom.
Max leaned forward slightly. ‘That’s actually… kind of cool.’
The chime of the bell echoed through the classroom.
"Well, that is the end of class. Enjoy the rest of your day." Professor Jarman said, his tone as calm as ever.
Chairs scraped against the floor as students packed up and filed out. Max followed suit, slipping out the door with his hands in his pockets.
So far, Jarman was easily his favorite professor.
He wasn’t arrogant. He didn’t carry himself like some untouchable scholar, lording over students with an inflated sense of superiority.
No, Jarman was different.
Most professors at Nexus walked around with what Max privately called a “Professor Complex”—as if just being in their presence was a privilege. They acted like their word was absolute, like they were on some higher plane of intelligence that students could only hope to understand.
Jarman? He actually taught.
He explained things clearly, answered questions without condescension, and most importantly—he treated students like actual people.
Max made his way to his next class.
Tactics and Cooperation.
The moment he stepped inside, the professor handed out uniforms to the students.
Max took his and made his way to the changing room, slipping on the suit.
Immediately, he felt the compression.
"They weren’t lying when they said this thing was skin-tight," Max thought, shifting uncomfortably. "I can feel it compacting my body."
He flexed his arms experimentally. His movements felt stiff, restrained, like his whole body was being wrapped in resistance bands.
Max turned to the mirror, grimacing.
"This is embarrassing..." he muttered under his breath.
Still, there was no choice but to go with it. With a sigh, he left the changing room and stepped back into the classroom.
The sight that greeted him was bizarre.
Rows upon rows of VR stations stretched across the room—hundreds, maybe even thousands. Each one was sleek, high-tech, and humming faintly with power.
Slowly, more students arrived, gathering in front of the professor.
Max glanced around, noticing something—
Most of the boys walked like he did, their movements rigid, almost robotic. Others, though, walked with ease, as if the suit barely affected them.
"Probably isn’t their first time in VR," Max thought, watching them move naturally.
At the very least, he was glad they had separated the boys and girls for this part.
‘It would’ve been embarrassing for everyone otherwise…’
“Attention please.”
Max turned his head as the professor stepped out of the changing room. Luka Novac, as he was called, had a head of messy black hair and a scruffy beard. His grin was wide, almost mischievous, as if he were always in on some secret joke.
Max’s sigh was almost involuntary.
"Luka Novac. How am I going to deal with him?" Max thought, his mind already racing through possibilities.
Luka wasn’t just any professor. He was one of the first antagonists, a notorious figure who’d signed a contract with a demon from the greed faction.
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"At least I’m not as popular or as skilled as Collin..." Max mused, his lips twisting into a brief frown. "It’d be a headache to have the attention of every antagonist."
Luka moved to the monitor at the front of the room, his fingers dancing over the keyboard. The low hum of the machine seemed to match his own energy, as though both he and the system were in sync.
A few moments passed before Luka spoke again, his voice loud and clear.
“Maximus Augustus, pod S12, please.”
Max glanced around, his eyes narrowing when he caught the faint snickers from a few students scattered around the room.
"Why? I haven’t even done anything yet."
The thought barely registered before it morphed into annoyance. It wasn’t the teasing that bothered him—it was the sudden, unwanted attention.
"Better not to let them mess with my excitement."
Max tried to shake off the feeling, pushing forward toward the pod designated for him. His mind was already racing ahead—he was about to experience VR for the first time. Not just any VR, but the most advanced simulation system ever created. He’d read about it before, but nothing had prepared him for this moment. The thrill was palpable in his chest, pushing aside his irritation.
Max stood still, the hum of the room vibrating around him as he waited for the professor to finish calling out names. His pulse quickened as the last student stepped into their pod.
"Maximus Augustus."
A smooth, automated voice echoed through the room, cutting through the murmurs of the students. Max’s heart skipped a beat, but he steadied himself, taking a breath.
"Are you ready?"
Max hesitated for a split second, but then he nodded. "Yes."
The voice was unwavering, methodical in its efficiency.
"Okay. Going in 5...4...3...2...1."
In an instant, the world around Max seemed to evaporate. The room fell away, replaced by a sudden rush of wind in his ears. He felt the sensation of movement without any sense of direction, as though he were falling through an invisible current. His eyes widened.
Whoosh.
The feeling was surreal. He couldn’t tell if he was flying or if the environment was moving around him. The world was a blur, an ever-changing vortex of lights and sounds. The sharp wind rushed past him, making his hair whip and his senses sharpen, only to disappear into a silence so complete it almost felt like a vacuum.
Shwoom.
The sensation shifted. A mechanical noise echoed in his ears.
Processing information.
Max’s body felt lighter, as if his very existence was being scanned, broken down, analyzed. His vision flashed with an array of bright lights—dazzling, almost blinding—before settling into a soft focus.
Retina scan.
A thin red beam flickered across his eyes, verifying his identity. He felt no discomfort, just an eerie sense of being evaluated, his very essence mapped and recorded.
Fingerprint check.
Max raised his hand instinctively, a subtle pulse running through his skin as the scan took place. He could feel his heartbeat syncing with the pulse, a strange sensation of his own body confirming its authenticity.
Genetic scan.
The world seemed to freeze for a moment, everything around him fading into a dull blur as his genetic blueprint was assessed. Max wasn’t entirely sure how they did it—maybe it was the combination of magic and technology—but it felt almost like they were unraveling him, piece by piece.
User information loaded.
Max blinked as the data streamed into his vision, everything flashing into view like an informational overlay. He saw a series of numbers, percentages, and statistics that felt impersonal—clinical even.
Welcome Maximus Augustus. Rank 2789/3150, confirm access Y/N
Max’s eyes locked onto the floating prompt. The numbers flashed, indicating his rank in some grand system, but it wasn’t the rank that caught his attention—it was the confirmation prompt.
He didn’t hesitate, the cold precision of the process pulling him forward. His finger hovered over the glowing Y button, and with a sharp press, he confirmed his access.
Whoosh.
The world snapped into focus, and Max found himself standing in a stark white room, blinking as the unfamiliar surroundings registered in his mind. The air was crisp and smelled faintly sterile, the kind of clinical environment he imagined a high-tech lab might feel like. A gentle hum buzzed from the walls, and he saw four other students scattered across the space, looking just as confused as he felt.
Max took a steady breath, his gaze shifting over the others. He couldn't help but notice the varying degrees of discomfort on their faces—no one seemed particularly thrilled to be here. They were all just waiting for something, for the next step.
"Rank 954, Jaspar Kato."
A guy standing near the center stepped forward, his features average in every sense of the word. His dark hair was a little unkempt, and his eyes were distant, perhaps a bit too nonchalant for the situation. He gave Max a brief glance but didn’t seem interested enough to make conversation.
"Rank 671, Zara Alvarado."
The next person, a girl with warm, brown curly hair and a smile that was almost kind, met Max’s eyes. She was attractive—pretty, even—but there was something about her gaze that suggested she wasn’t in the mood to entertain anyone.
"Rank 439, Elias Muller."
A blonde guy stepped up next, his blonde hair a little messy but not in a careless way. It looked styled just enough to appear effortlessly tousled. His sharp blue eyes flickered over the group, then back down at the floor as he kept to himself.
"Finnian O'Conner, Rank 854."
A red-haired guy with a noticeable twinge of freckles nodded toward Max, but he didn’t say anything more, just settled into his space with an air of quiet confidence.
Then, the atmosphere shifted as the last guy stepped forward.
Max’s gaze landed on him—he was huge. He towered over the rest of the group, a hulk of a man with a buzzcut and a permanent scowl that made him look like he was always on the edge of a fight. He carried a spear like it was an extension of his own body, and the glint in his eyes said that this was someone who didn’t tolerate weakness.
"Rank 68, Justin Steele."
Max’s stomach churned when he heard the name. He knew exactly who Justin was—one of Takahiro’s lackeys. Justin was the kind of guy who idolized Takahiro to the point of obsession. He followed him around like a shadow, always doing his bidding without question. The whole ‘worshipping the strong’ mentality had a disturbing edge to it, and Max wasn’t particularly fond of it.
Max stepped forward slowly.
"Maximus Augustus... Rank 2789..." he said, his voice barely above a murmur, but enough to get the attention of the group.
The others turned toward him briefly, scanning him with a mix of disinterest and condescension. It was clear they weren’t impressed. Max could practically feel the judgment radiating off of them.
"Useless."
Justin sneered, dismissing him with a flick of his eyes. Max had expected it, but hearing it aloud still stung. He wasn’t here to make friends, anyway. The less attention he drew, the better.
Max let out a quiet sigh, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned against a nearby wall. He wasn’t going to dignify Justin’s remark with a response.
‘It’s fine,’ Max thought, ‘I’ll just wait for the professor to give instructions.’
He stayed there, in his corner, watching the others—Jaspar absentmindedly glancing around, Zara playing with a strand of her hair, Elias staring at his feet, and Finnian... well, Finnian was the most relaxed of them all.
They would learn that Max is a surprisingly petty person.