The tension in the classroom didn’t vanish; it simply pivoted. A collective sigh of relief rippled through the players, particularly those like Ray and Caden who had witnessed Calder’s casual brutality firsthand. If Calder wanted to strip them of every Chrono they owned, he could do it by force, and they wouldn't be able to lift a finger to stop him. This wasn't a robbery—it was a transaction. And in this new, hellish reality, a transaction meant survival.
A heavy silence followed until a hand trembled in the air.
"I... can I borrow one Chrono? Just one," a boy named Zack stammered, his eyes darting toward the looming countdown of The Convergence. "I’ll pay you back the second I can farm enough after the event, I swear."
Calder’s expression remained unreadable as he flicked his wrist, opening his interface. "Drop your ID."
"Zack! My ID is Zack!" the boy blurted, stumbling over his words.
Calder’s fingers danced across the holographic screen. A second later, a soft chime echoed from Zack’s wrist.
"I got it! It’s there!" Zack’s face lit up with a manic sort of joy, his terror momentarily eclipsed by the sight of the digital currency. "Thank you, Calder! Seriously, I’ll have it back to you soon!"
The dam broke. Seeing Zack successfully receive funds sparked a frenzy among the other terrified novices.
"Calder, me too! Just one Chrono!"
"I only need half! Please, have a heart, Calder!"
"Half for me as well! Please!"
A chorus of desperate pleas filled the room. Calder didn’t hesitate; he moved with the cold efficiency of a bank teller, processing transfer after transfer. Within minutes, over sixty Chronos had been drained from his personal account and distributed among the crowd. The atmosphere shifted from a funeral wake to a celebration as players clutched their menus like lifebuoys.
Ray and Caden exchanged a wary look. They knew Calder wasn't the "helping hand" type.
"Should I... should I get in on this too?" Ray whispered, stepping forward. He didn't actually need the money—he had enough to survive the next few days—but he figured this was Calder’s way of collecting a "protection fee" under a different name. Participation felt safer than abstinence.
Ray offered a nervous grin. "Calder, maybe I should take a loan too?"
Calder looked up, his eyes sharp and devoid of patience. "If you want it, take it. If you don't, get out of my way."
"I just thought—"
"Borrow or get lost," Calder snapped, shoving Ray aside without a second thought. He didn't have time for social posturing.
Ray stumbled back, nearly tripping over Caden. "What is he playing at?" he hissed, his face flushing with embarrassment and confusion.
"Maybe he’s just... being a loan shark?" Caden suggested, scratching his head.
Ray shook his head. He had seen the way Calder fought. Everything that man did felt calculated, layered with some hidden, darker purpose. But this time, Ray was overthinking it.
The truth was far simpler and much more desperate. Calder wasn't looking for influence; he was looking for a way to stay alive.
As a cursed class—a Divine Gifted burdened by the shadows—Calder’s internal clock ran at a different speed. After offending a "God" in the Ascension Shrine and earning the [The Blasphemer] title, his personal time-dilation had reached a terminal velocity. While an average player consumed one Chrono per day to keep their heart beating, Calder’s rate was ten times higher.
He didn't just need money; he needed a mountain of it. The early game was the golden hour for predatory lending. A ten-to-one return on investment wasn't just profit—it was a lifeline. If the system was going to bleed him dry, he would simply bleed everyone else to compensate.
By the time the last player signed their digital promissory note, Calder’s balance had dwindled to fewer than ten coins. He had moved eighty Chronos into the hands of the class, all of it due back in one month. The interest was astronomical, doubling for every day it was late.
Despite the crushing debt, the novices looked happy. High interest was a problem for tomorrow; dying during The Convergence was a problem for today.
Calder surveyed the room, his voice dropping to a low, cold vibration. "Remember this: I’m easy to borrow from, but I’m hell to pay back. If anyone thinks about dodging their debt..."
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to. He glanced toward the back wall where a body was still partially embedded in the masonry—alive, barely, and wishing it wasn't. The joy in the room evaporated instantly, replaced by the grim reminder that they were dealing with a monster, not a mentor.
Suddenly, a system-wide notification blared, turning everyone’s vision a sharp, electric blue.
[ATTENTION: The Convergence is about to begin.]
[Novice Zone 911: Do you wish to participate in the selection of The Unclaimed Wastes? Please cast your vote.]
[Note: If 'Yes' votes are below 50%, the zone will skip selection and proceed directly to The Convergence.]
The Unclaimed Wastes. The real game was starting.
The players froze, their eyes instinctively darting to Calder. Many were prepared to abstain, too terrified to invite more danger. But Calder didn't give them a choice.
"Ray. Caden. You and your friends—vote Yes," Calder commanded.
He wasn't asking. He knew that even with a few "idiots" trying to hide behind an anonymous 'No' vote, he only needed a solid block of obedient voters to force the issue. Ray and Caden moved instantly, tapping the 'Yes' prompt as if their lives depended on it. Seeing the strongest man in the room take a stance, the rest of the sheep followed suit.
[Voting complete. Novice Zone 911 has confirmed participation in the territorial struggle.]
[Please elect a representative to select a sector from the following maps...]
A massive, sprawling holographic map materialized in the center of the classroom. It depicted the world as it used to be, but it was riddled with "void zones"—white, empty patches where cities and nations had once stood.
The room went silent. Some began to sob quietly as they recognized the gaps in the map. The Ember Republic, their home, was a Swiss-cheese ruin of unclaimed territory.
"Give me the representative rights," Calder said, his voice cutting through the grief.
Ray didn't hesitate. "Done. You’ve got my vote."
The others followed, one by one, surrendering their collective agency to the only man who looked like he knew what he was doing.
[Representative Confirmed: Calder.]
[Territory Tiers have been assigned. From Rank F to Rank SSS. Choose wisely.]
The map updated. In the center of the void where the Ember Republic once thrived, a single patch glowed with a violent, blood-red hue.
[The Unclaimed Wastes: Ember Republic Sector 99 — SSS-Tier Resources]
The air in the room grew thin. Even the most ignorant novice understood what SSS-Tier meant. It was the peak. It was the ultimate prize.
But they weren't the only ones looking at it.
The World Chat, usually a chaotic mess of spam, suddenly slowed as high-ranking players began to mark their territory.
[Jill Woodrow (A-Rank Talent): Sector 1 of the Sakura Federation, Sector 3 of the Beacon Union, and Sector 23 of the Ember Republic are MINE. If you have the guts to contest an A-Rank, step up.]
The chat fell silent for a moment. An A-Rank was a one-in-ten-thousand genius. But the silence didn't last.
[Dorian Choi (SS-Rank Auric Lancer): You think an A-Rank title scares anyone? I’m taking the Ember Republic wastes. Touch them, and I’ll personally gut you.]
[Kazuma Harano (SS-Rank Sacred Blade Warrior): The Ember Republic thinks they’re special? Fine. I’ll take their land just to prove a point.]
[Brian (SSS-Rank Sword Sovereign): My zone wants ten SSS-Tier sectors. Don’t get in our way.]
The screen became a parade of monsters. S-Ranks, SS-Ranks, and even the legendary SSS-Ranks were staking their claims. These were the titans of the Novice Trial, the ones who had walked out of the proving grounds with god-like powers.
Ray watched the chat, his face turning ashen. "Calder... what’s the plan? Maybe we should pick something quieter? An A-Tier or a B-Tier? We don't need to fight these people..."
Calder didn't even blink. His hand moved with predatory intent, tapping the screen in rapid succession.
[Novice Zone 911 has selected Ember Republic Sector 88 (SSS-Tier) as a target.]
[Novice Zone 911 has selected Ember Republic Sector 92 (SSS-Tier) as a target.]
[Novice Zone 911 has selected Sakura Federation Sector 20 (SSS-Tier) as a target.]
"My god," Caden whispered. "He's picking all of them."
The system chimed repeatedly, each one sounding like a death knell.
[WARNING: Your selection for Sector 88 conflicts with Sakura Federation Zone 2355, Irontalon Kingdom Zone 3234... Do you wish to persist and enter a Banner War?]
The names of the players contesting those zones were the same ones currently dominating the World Chat—the SS and SSS-Rank elites.
"Calder, stop!" Ray pleaded. "You’re locking us into a war with everyone! We can't—"
[Novice Zone 911 persists in selection. All sectors locked. Entering Banner War phase.]
It was over. The choice was made.
Ray slumped against a desk, his heart hammering against his ribs. He looked at Calder, expecting to see madness, but he only saw a cold, focused indifference. Calder didn't care about the "Sword Sovereigns" or the "Auric Lancers." To him, they were just obstacles in the way of his next meal.
Calder turned to the trembling crowd. "When the Banner War starts, you can enter if you want. But don't look to me for protection. I'm going in to win, not to babysit."
If you want? That meant they didn't have to go. A wave of relief washed over the novices. They could stay here, safe in the classroom, while Calder went out to face the monsters alone. They could watch the slaughter from the sidelines.
The World Chat was a bonfire of insults and threats now. Hundreds of zones were retreating, intimidated by the SSS-Rank titans, leaving only the most arrogant or the most powerful in the running.
An hour bled away in agonizing tension until the final prompt appeared.
[Banner War 95 is live. Please enter the portal. Failure to enter within 60 seconds results in forfeiture.]
[59... 58... 57...]
Calder didn't wait for the countdown. He tapped YES, and a pillar of white light engulfed him, whisking him away from the mundane safety of the classroom and into the meat grinder.
As the light faded, a final prompt appeared before the remaining students:
[Do you wish to spectate the Banner War for Novice Zone 911?]