Book 1
Chapter 9: Midterms and Mayhem: The Proctor's Predicament
The dungeon chamber, now devoid of a guardian beast and strangely humming with residual Mone, finally began to fill with sound. Not the excited chatter of successful students, but the hushed, frantic whispers of the proctors.
ProfessorHimura, normally a beacon of academic composure, had the distinct look of a man whose entire understanding of the universe had just been drop-kicked into the void. His aura flickered like a broken spreadsheet—one that had just been tried to divide by Ken. His glasses were crooked, and a single, frantic bead of sweat traced a path through his thinning hair.
---
The Baffled Bureaucrat
"It simply... ceased to exist," Professor Himura muttered, his voice strained, as he knelt at the exact spot where the colossal stone guardian had been.
He ran a trembling hand over the pristine, yet strangely shimmering, stone floor.
"No residual mana signature, no disintegration pattern... just... nothing. A concussive poof."
The kind of poof that made ancient scholars cry into their scrolls and reconsider tenure.
His fellow proctor, a stern, older woman named MadamYua, who specialized in ancient magical constructs, tapped a thick rulebook against her chin.
"Rule 7, Subsection C: 'In the event of guardian incapacitation by a student, said student shall be awarded full marks upon successful defeat of construct.' It specifies 'defeat,' Himura. Not 'utter destruction.'"
She underlined the phrase in her rulebook, then doodled a tombstone labeled 'Guardian, R.I.P,' a frowny face, and finally scrawled the word 'KEN' in block letters. After a pause, she added horns to it.
"And what of the test itself? The rune sequence was improperly activated. The boy... twisted it backwards." Professor Himura scrambled to his feet, pulling out his own worn copies of Academy bylaws and arcane scrolls.
He flipped frantically through pages that probably hadn't been consulted in centuries.
"I've checked the emergency protocols, the anomaly contingency guides, even the ancient texts on 'spontaneous existential erasure'! Nothing. Absolutely nothing covers... a flossing comment followed by cosmic obliteration."
He looked up at Ken, who was currently attempting to pick a piece of dried something from between his teeth with his thumbnail.
"Sir," Himura asked, his voice bordering on a plea, "can you explain exactly what you did?"
Ken paused his dental hygiene efforts, looking genuinely puzzled. He paused mid-excavation, holding up a small shred of dried jerky he'd just pried loose.
"Found it," he said, before popping it back in his mouth.
He then turned to Professor Himura, who audibly whimpered.
"Explain what? I just twisted the glowy thingy backwards, like it was trying to clean something stuck. Like when you're flossing, you know? Sometimes you gotta go the other way to get it out. The universe, apparently, agreed."
He demonstrated with a casual, almost elegant twisting motion of his hand.
"Then poof. Did I miss a crumb?"
Somewhere in the gallery, a philosopher quietly resigned and took up baking.
Another proctor muttered, "Wait, is this… a technique?" before attempting the same twisting motion.
The rune chalk he was holding immediately snapped in half, lodging in his sleeve. "Yep," someone confirmed. "Definitely advanced."
---
Professor Himura stared, utterly defeated. A primal scream seemed to want to escape his throat, but he choked it down, his professional manner barely holding. The sheer, oblivious simplicity of Ken's explanation, combined with the bizarre analogy, broke something fundamental in his academic soul.
Beside Ken, Narutama lay casually slumped against a damp wall, still unconscious from the concussive blast.
Ken had apparently attempted to "drag him to safety" but his method involved primarily grabbing Narutama by one ankle and occasionally bumping him into ancient pillars or leaving his face down in a conveniently formed puddle of condensed water.
Narutama remained stubbornly stilled, a testament to either a deep head trauma or a laudable attempt to avoid further humiliation.
Ken gave him a reassuring pat.
"Don't worry, buddy. I kept your head mostly above water."
Narutama gurgled in his unconscious state, bubbles rising from the puddle.
---
Emergency Anomaly Report
Later that day, tucked away in his dimly lit office, Professor Himura bypassed the usual academic reporting channels.
He produced a blank, shimmering slate and began to write, his hand trembling slightly.
This wasn't for the Dean, or even the Head of Departments. This was for a far more discreet and powerful entity:
The Adventura Guild.
His quill scratched rapidly across the arcane surface, the words appearing in shimmering script:
EMERGENCY ANOMALY REPORT – SUBJECT: HANZORI, KEN
Designation: First-Year Student, Basic Rune Comprehension, Midterm Exam.
Incident: Unprecedented Guardian Neutralization. Stone Beast of Eldoria (Class III Construct) vaporized without known magical signature, structural disintegration, or identifiable attack vector.
Method: Subject reports 'twisting rune backwards,' akin to 'flossing.' Observer notes include profound obliviousness, unquantifiable energy signature at point of contact, and lack of discernible intent. One observer described Ken's aura as "a toddler with infinite crayons and no paper."
Current Status: Subject appears to be a walking, talking, Mone-generating anomaly. Danger to inanimate objects, academic integrity, and universal laws.
Recommendation: IMMEDIATE EVALUATION REQUIRED.
Classification: UNPRECEDENTED THREAT (ACADEMIC & POTENTIALLY COSMIC).
He sealed the report with a desperate flourish, the Adventura Guild's crest glowing faintly on the slate.
This was above his pay grade. Far above. Himura briefly considered retirement, but the paperwork was in a locked drawer guarded by a minor deity.
When he approached the drawer, the tiny deity crossed its arms. "Denied. You're cursed with tenure."
Himura wept.
He just hoped they could make sense of the chaos Ken Hanzori clearly represented.
---
Meanwhile, at the Adventura Guild HQ, where a tired clerk stares at Professor Himura's report.
Clerk: "Another Hanzori incident? File it under 'Act of Ken' and be done with it"
He dropped the report into a drawer that rattled ominously. Seconds later, it spat out a marshmallow, already toasted. The clerk didn't flinch, just skewered it on a quill.
The report itself spontaneously combusts. The flames spelled out "Good luck" before vanishing into a puff of bureaucratic despair.
The clerk doesn't react.