“Which superpower university is closer to the Tower of Truth?” When Mike asked this question, Kaelum and Elena looked at him like he’d sprouted a second head.
What did proximity have to do with anything?
You could access the Tower of Truth from anywhere on Earth, full signal, zero lag.
Only Anderson, ever the pragmatist, chimed in, “New York’s superpower university.”
As they chatted, an announcement blared from the summer camp’s loudspeakers.
“Breaking news! Washington D.C.’s superpower university is establishing its first branch campus, located two hundred miles outside the Forest of Truth. Estimated completion time: three minutes…”
“We interrupt this program to announce that the Washington D.C. branch campus is now complete! Applications are now open!”
“Extra, extra! New York’s superpower university established a branch campus five minutes ago, one hundred and fifty miles outside the Forest of Truth…”
11
The broadcast devolved into a cacophony of noise, sounds of a brawl filtering through the speakers. Things were getting… spicy.
Ten minutes later, the broadcast resumed, a voice dripping with arrogance cutting through the static.
“All branch campuses are canceled. That is all.”
The whole thing was a bizarre, chaotic spectacle, leaving everyone utterly bewildered.
“Someone’s flexing some serious muscle,” Mike muttered, impressed.
Building a new campus in minutes was nothing short of a miracle.
Earth had plenty of heavy hitters, especially those specializing in earth element
manipulation. Construction was their bread and butter.
Even Mike himself was proficient in earth and nature elements. He could build stuff in his sleep.
No one connected Mike to this little drama.
News of the summer camp’s imminent closure spread like wildfire.
For the top students, choosing between New York and Washington D.C.’s superpower universities was a tough decision.
“Mike, breaking news!” Kaelum rushed over, practically bursting with excitement. “All the students from the SS-rank talent training camp have chosen New York!”
SS-rank talents were a rare breed, even across America.
There were around fifty names on the training camp roster.
But less than half, no more than thirty, were actual students.
Many were powerhouses in disguise, fishing for intel. Apparently, they’d had a successful haul, netting a number of Demon Cult moles.
“They all chose New York?” Mike raised an eyebrow. Why?
—
In his office, Michael placed various potions and materials before James.
“Here you go! Don’t spend it all in one place.”
The items weren’t expensive, totaling less than 1 Lord merit.
But for James, they were invaluable, capable of giving his strength a serious boost.
“Instructor Michael, I can’t accept this!” James politely declined.
He had received plenty of resources during summer camp thanks to his stellar performance.
And Instructor Michael’s gifts… they were just too sketchy.
The items radiated a faint Abyssal aura, raising serious questions about Instructor Michael’s true identity.
“It’s loot! Spoils of war! Finders keepers!” Michael insisted, practically shoving the items into James’s hands.
He had his reasons.
Michael’s only goal in life was to stay alive.
And if he could add a qualifier, it would be: to live a long and *happy* life.
A man had to have some standards.
His resurrection hadn’t been solely Apollo’s doing. James had played a key role.
Gratitude was one of Michael’s few redeeming qualities.
He knew one thing for sure: Apollo was always watching.
Michael knew a thing or two about Supreme Beings.
For example, when he first saw the Thunderclap Hammer, he declared without hesitation that
it had once belonged to Ares, but Ares had been unable to unleash its full potential.
Since Apollo was watching, Michael figured it wouldn’t hurt to rack up some good karma.
Another important factor:
James was Richard Sterling’s son.
And Richard Sterling had saved Terenas’s life.
That old coot, despite his ruthlessness, had a code.
Showing kindness to James might just save Michael’s bacon if Terenas ever decided to pay
him a visit… with a vengeance.
A man had to play the long game.
After giving the items to James, Michael added, “With your performance, you’ll have your pick of New York or Washington.”
James nodded. “Instructor Michael, which one do you recommend?”
“Washington D.C. is the steady route. You’ll climb the ranks, becoming a Chief within ten years. Maybe even a Lord in a century or two.” Michael paused. “New York is more of a gamble. You could skyrocket, or you could crash and burn.”
“Ultimately, the choice is yours.”
With that, Michael turned and left.
Judging by the flurry of news reports, anyone who wasn’t blind could see the writing on the
wall.
Thor was almost certainly heading to New York’s superpower university.
Following a potential Supreme Being was the best way to ride the “supreme power” gravy
train.
Just look at this summer camp. In a single month, many students had reached General tier!
They were destined for great things.
James paced the hallway, weighing his options.
…
The summer camp wasted no time.
There was no closing ceremony, no fanfare. After the afternoon classes, Mike and the others
were herded onto a bus back to Florida.
They were leaving the same way they had arrived.
Kaelum and Anderson had already headed back to New York’s superpower university, skipping
the bus ride.
On the bus were: Elena, Jessica, Mike, Cain, four cows, three pigs, five sheep…
“Cain, those ingredients are… suspiciously fresh.”
Cain shrugged.
He couldn’t let all those meal card credits go to waste, could he?
His initial treatment was complete, and he was now focusing on recovery.
Unfortunately, his performance at summer camp had been unremarkable. He hadn’t earned an
automatic admission offer.
He would have to work harder to get into a superpower university.
“Don’t worry, I’m rooting for you!” Mike clapped Cain on the shoulder, his voice full of
confidence. “You’re Florida’s rising star!”
“The final assessment is still two months away…” Cain muttered, staring out the window. “Did those thirty days feel like a year? If I wrote a diary about it, it would be a 500,000-word
saga!”
“You’re such a drama llama,” Mike scoffed. “Ten thousand words would be overkill.”
“You don’t understand! Diary writing… it’s not about word count, it’s about capturing the nuances, the details, the vivid imagery…”
…
The trip back to Florida was smooth sailing. No Demon Cult shenanigans this time.
In fact, the Demon Cults were keeping a low profile, too scared to even poke their heads out.
As Mike, Cain, and the others stepped off the bus, they were greeted by a cheering crowd.
Students and teachers from Florida’s Magic High School swarmed the bus, waving banners and posters.
Mike glanced up at one of the banners and nearly choked.
It read:
“Congratulations to Mike for slaying two level 100 demon creatures!”