I Don't Need To Log Out

In a dimly lit, almost empty room, Carla, the Beastman woman and secretary of Asef, stood with her back straight, a cigarette dangling between her fingers.

The only other occupants were a tied-up Beastman man, slumped in his chair, and someone standing silently in the corner of the room, his presence looming like a shadow.

The tied-up man glared at Carla, his fur matted with sweat. "Why did you betray us? You are even a Beastman!" he spat, his voice trembling with anger and fear.

Carla took a slow drag from her cigarette, her eyes narrowing as she exhaled a thin stream of smoke. "Even now, with everything that's happened, you're still stuck on that?" she asked, her tone icy. "You discriminate against other races while pretending to fight for equality. You're no different from the people you claim to oppose."

She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "So why should I ever choose your side?"

The man struggled against his restraints, his ears twitching in frustration. "Traitor," he hissed, his voice cracking under the weight of his situation.

Carla straightened, flicking ash onto the floor. "Call me whatever you want. I don't really care what you think of me," she said flatly, taking another drag from her cigarette. "What I do care about is the information you have on Arlon."

The man's laugh was bitter, though it was clear he was masking his fear. "As I told you before, that information wasn't shared with anyone. All we know is that he killed a Demon alongside the Trionian named Arlon and that he's under Lord Zephyrion's protection."

Carla tilted her head, studying him with a sharp gaze that made him squirm. "Do you think anyone will believe that nonsense?" she said coolly. "You're one of the top administrators in authority. Zephyrion trusts you."

"This isn't about trust," the man retorted, his lips curling into a smirk despite his predicament. "Zephyrion's no fool. He probably saw this coming a mile away. Sucks to be you." He chuckled darkly, his laugh echoing in the empty room.

Carla didn't react to his taunt. Instead, she took one last drag from her cigarette and snuffed it out against the table beside her. "Sucks to be us? That's cute," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "We'll find him eventually. But I can't say the same for you."

She turned her head slightly, addressing the human in the corner. "Mr. Gellard, this will be your test. Please take care of him."

Gellard, a human player who had once killed the infamous black magician, stepped forward hesitantly.

His hands were trembling slightly, but his face remained impassive. "W-what do you want me to do? Kill him?" he stammered.

Carla gave him a cold, detached smile. "Whatever you think is necessary. But if you can get information out of him first, it'll boost your score."

With that, she turned on her heel and left the room, leaving Gellard and the tied-up man alone.

The Beastman's eyes darted between Gellard and the door Carla had just exited. His bravado from earlier was fading quickly. "You're one of them, aren't you? A savior? Why are you doing this to us? Didn't you come here to kill them?" he pleaded, his voice breaking.

Gellard didn't answer immediately. He stared at the man with a blank expression, his trembling hands now steadying as he gripped the hilt of his dagger.

"I'm sorry," Gellard finally said, though his voice lacked any real emotion. He stepped forward, and in one swift motion, he stabbed the man three times—each strike precise and efficient.

Blood seeped from the man's wounds, and his body slumped in the chair, lifeless.

Gellard stepped back, his breathing shallow. He wiped his blade on the man's shirt, his expression eerily calm.

He didn't look like someone who regretted his actions—or even someone who felt guilt.

If anything, he seemed detached, as though this was just another task in a long list of assignments.

Outside the room, Carla leaned against the wall, her ears twitching as she heard the muffled sound of the dagger piercing flesh. She smirked faintly to herself. That one will do.

When Gellard finally emerged, his face pale but composed, Carla glanced at him with mild interest. "Done already?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

Gellard nodded. "Yes."

Carla took a step closer, studying him for a moment. "Not bad. You didn't freeze, at least."

"I... just did what you told me to," Gellard replied, his voice flat.

Carla smirked again. "Good. You'll fit in just fine. Now let's see how you handle the next task."

Gellard didn't respond, but a flicker of uncertainty crossed his eyes.

---

The players walked in silence as they followed Alia through the academy halls.

The energy of the arena still lingered, the echoes of the fight between Arlon and Orlen replaying in their minds. Even Zack, usually the loudest of the group, seemed lost in thought.

Maria glanced at Arlon, who walked at the back of the group, his face as unreadable as ever. How does he stay so calm after something like that? she wondered, still feeling the tension from the match.

Alia, walking ahead, turned and grinned. "You know, you all look like you've seen a ghost. Relax. Orlen's fine, and so is Arlon. That's how things are here—intense fights, but no one dies."

"Yeah, but did you see that spell Arlon used?" Zack finally broke the silence. "That wasn't just some basic magic." Experience tales with My Virtual Library Empire

"Orlen didn't seem too surprised, though," June added.

"That's because he's Orlen," Alia said with a shrug. "He's seen it all. But Arlon—" she shot him a sideways glance, her grin widening—"you're full of surprises, aren't you?"

Arlon didn't respond, simply continuing to walk with the same steady pace.

"Well, anyway," Alia said, clapping her hands. "You've survived the morning, and I've been kind enough to escort you to lunch. You're welcome, by the way."

Evan perked up immediately. "Lunch? Finally!"

Alia chuckled. "Try not to embarrass yourselves too much, alright? This is Cardon Academy, after all."