Chapter 100: Reaction of Other Geniuses

Inside the observation hall, complete silence descended.

The professors stared at the enormous projection, their eyes wide with disbelief. Only moments ago, they had been discussing Jackson’s inevitable defeat. Some had even begun questioning Professor Niom’s judgment, wondering how an experienced Gold-Rank hunter could have placed such an outrageous bet on an ordinary-looking student.

Now, the outcome displayed before them had rendered their earlier judgments meaningless.

The goblin shaman was dead.

And the student they had dismissed as incapable of surviving the encounter had been the one to kill it.

Professor Niom stared at the screen, momentarily unable to find the words to express his astonishment. He had hoped Jackson would somehow survive until the academy could intervene, but he had never expected the young man to reverse the situation so dramatically.

After everything he had witnessed, one question continued to linger in his mind.

Just how much is this boy hiding?

His gaze instinctively shifted toward Dean Maxwell.

Unlike the other professors, Maxwell showed no obvious signs of surprise. His expression remained composed, although his eyes had narrowed slightly as he studied the devastated battlefield. He seemed less interested in the result itself than in understanding how Jackson had accomplished something that should have been beyond his capabilities.

Meanwhile, the professors who had mocked Niom earlier had fallen conspicuously silent.

The young man they had dismissed as unworthy of attention had accomplished something they considered nearly impossible. Worse, he had done it while fighting alone, without any assistance from the academy.

Their earlier ridicule now seemed particularly foolish.

Niom finally released a long breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. A faint smile appeared on his face as he leaned back in his seat.

He had taken a considerable risk by wagering a Rank Five Breakthrough Pill on Jackson, but it seemed his judgment hadn’t been entirely misguided after all.

At the very least, he wouldn’t have to endure any more mockery over that particular bet.

Dean Maxwell, meanwhile, had a different reaction.

A strange glint appeared in his eyes as he continued watching Jackson’s figure on the screen. No one else in the room could tell precisely what he had been expecting from the young man, but whatever it was, Jackson’s performance had clearly given him something new to consider.

He could tell that Jackson had already reached the Third Sequence.

That alone was astonishing.

The boy had awakened only around two months ago. Under ordinary circumstances, even reaching the Second Sequence within such a short period would have been considered impressive. Advancing all the way to the Third Sequence was an entirely different matter.

Yet Jackson had done precisely that.

And now, this newly awakened Third Sequence student had killed a cunning warrior at the very peak of the same sequence.

The goblin shaman wasn’t some ordinary monster that had wandered into the students’ path by accident. It had concealed its presence well enough to escape the notice of the academy’s Gold-Rank professors, then used its magic to turn the surrounding forest into a deadly trap.

Despite all those advantages, Jackson had still found a way to kill it.

His performance revealed more than raw strength.

It demonstrated his ability to remain composed under pressure, recognize an opponent’s weaknesses, and adapt when his original approach failed. Rather than surrendering to the overwhelming difference in their attributes, he had continued searching for an opportunity until he found one.

For a student who had awakened only two months ago, that level of judgment was extraordinary.

A faint smile slowly spread across Dean Maxwell’s face.

"This is it..." he murmured. "He might actually allow me to turn things around."

The words were quiet enough that no one paid them much attention.

But as Dean Maxwell continued observing Jackson, a plan gradually began to take shape in his mind.

He had finally found someone who might help him change the situation.

And if his suspicions proved correct, he intended to support Jackson with everything he had.

...

Jackson had no idea that his performance had attracted the dean’s attention or that a plan involving him was already taking shape.

His immediate concern was much simpler.

Survival.

After taking a few moments to recover his breath, he cautiously approached the goblin shaman’s corpse. His twin daggers remained in his hands, their damaged blades catching what little light filtered through the mist.

Even though the creature was dead, Jackson wasn’t foolish enough to lower his guard immediately. He examined the surrounding area, checked for any signs of movement, and only then crouched beside the enormous body.

With practiced movements, he opened the corpse’s chest and extracted its monster beast core.

The core radiated a powerful energy, far denser than anything he had obtained from the ordinary goblins. Jackson examined it briefly before storing it away.

He had no intention of lingering.

The battle had caused too much destruction, and he couldn’t rule out the possibility that other creatures had been drawn toward the commotion. More importantly, the mist had already demonstrated how dangerous this part of the forest could be.

Jackson rose to his feet and quickly left the battlefield.

He continued moving until he had covered several hundred meters, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the goblin shaman’s corpse. Only after finding a suitable tree did he finally stop.

He climbed onto a sturdy branch and settled into a seated position, resting his back against the trunk.

For the next few minutes, he remained silent, replaying the battle in his mind.

He carefully examined every decision he had made, from the moment the goblin shaman first appeared to the instant his twin daggers pierced its skull. He considered the mistakes he had made, the opportunities he had missed, and the advantages that had ultimately allowed him to survive.

The more he thought about it, the clearer one problem became.

He was still far too reliant on the Golden Brush and his spiritual force.

The Golden Brush was undoubtedly his greatest advantage, but activating it consumed a resource he couldn’t replenish instantly. Against ordinary opponents, this limitation was manageable. He could weaken their attributes, alter their abilities, and finish the battle before his spiritual force became a serious concern.

Against powerful opponents, however, things were different.

The goblin shaman had forced him into a prolonged battle, leaving him with little opportunity to recover. Each alteration required careful timing, and if his spiritual force ran dry at the wrong moment, the Golden Brush would become useless precisely when he needed it most.

His vast reserves of magical power were no help in that regard.

He possessed plenty of mana, yet he couldn’t simply substitute it for the spiritual force required to activate the artifact. The two resources served different purposes, and having an abundance of one did nothing to solve his shortage of the other.

It was a glaring weakness.

Jackson frowned as he considered the implications.

As his cultivation advanced, he would inevitably encounter stronger enemies. Their status windows would become more difficult to manipulate, and the spiritual force required to make alterations would likely increase accordingly.

He couldn’t expect every future battle to end as conveniently as this one.

If he continued relying so heavily on the Golden Brush, sooner or later, he would encounter an opponent who could exploit that weakness.

He needed to become stronger in ways that didn’t depend entirely on the artifact.

His physical attributes, combat techniques, and ability to control his spiritual force all needed further improvement.

Then another thought occurred to him.

The breakthrough he had experienced during the battle.

Meteor Climbing Stance.

Under the pressure of fighting the goblin shaman, he had unexpectedly sensed the formation of a third spiritual strand. Although he hadn’t had time to examine the phenomenon, he was certain it hadn’t been an illusion.

He had finally begun to grasp something beyond the technique’s Initiate Stage.

Jackson’s eyes brightened slightly.

He had originally needed to reach Complete Mastery to control five knives simultaneously. Now, however, the appearance of that third strand suggested that his understanding of the technique was progressing faster than expected.

He wasn’t ready to control five knives yet, but the distance between his current ability and that goal had clearly narrowed.

If he continued training, it might not be long before he could control more weapons at once.

And against opponents who possessed overwhelming physical strength, the ability to attack from several directions simultaneously could prove invaluable.

Jackson made a mental note to devote more time to the technique once the assessment ended.

For now, he had more immediate concerns.

...

Meanwhile, at the place where Jackson and the goblin shaman had fought, several figures arrived one after another.

Jonathan Spark, Alexander Drag, Angela Northwind, and Grace were among them.

They had all hurried toward the source of the disturbance after sensing the terrifying fluctuations of power that had spread through the forest. Yet despite moving at their fastest speed, they had arrived too late.

The battle was already over.

What greeted them was a scene of devastation.

The surrounding forest had been torn apart across an area nearly a hundred meters in radius. Towering trees had been snapped or uprooted, their broken trunks scattered across the ground. Deep furrows cut through the earth, while countless branches and shattered fragments of wood lay strewn among the rubble.

The soil had been churned into uneven mounds, and several sections of the clearing had been reduced to little more than cracked earth and splintered roots.