Lohran yawned, boredom evident on his face as he stood in front of a counter inside a separate room.
There were only a little over thirty teenagers his age inside, and with seven counters available, it barely took a minute before it was his turn to register.
The only issue?
The brats in this room all carried themselves with either an aloof or an outright arrogant disposition.
Only a handful seemed indifferent or remotely approachable—including him. There was also a strange, tense atmosphere of silent observation and probing.
Many had sized him up the moment he entered—some discreetly, others openly.
While not originally from this world, Lohran had already been made aware by his father of the intricate politics between aristocrats.
Naturally, there were alliances and rivalries among the houses—both within the same region and across different ones.
The Minor Aristocratic House of Neyvaris, for example, was one of the lesser aristocratic families in the Western Region of the High Republic of Kairindor.
Within their own region, they didn't see eye to eye with four particular houses: the Minor Aristocratic Houses of Duvall, Ashwick, Falkner, and Griswold.
Their relationships with most houses were also not that good, given their rather alarming decline.
Most believed they would soon be replaced by a family of rich commoners.
Hence, Lohran's striking red hair became the object of disdain and condescension in the room, as only those from the Minor House of Neyvaris had red hair among the current batch of aristocratic youngsters.
Only the Southern Aristocrats, known for their high moral values and great attitudes, along with a handful of others, didn't look at him negatively.
Lohran didn't give the slightest crap about the arrogant and condescending ones, though.
He would welcome a fight with them anytime—if they even dared to challenge him openly, that is.
Lohran was simply disgusted by their cowardly ways of only talking behind someone's back.
If they didn't even dare to say it to his face, then they weren't worthy of his attention.
Why should he even bother with such spineless brats?
"Here's your registration confirmation form, Young Master Neyvaris," the registrar handling his application said smilingly.
"I'm sure you've already been tested unofficially for your role and course, but the academy requires an official test using higher-accuracy devices. After this, please proceed to that room over there for official testing. The staff inside will guide you on what to do next."
Lohran took the registration confirmation form, gave a nod, and left, heading straight for the designated testing room.
He wanted the paperwork to be over with as quickly as possible.
After all, there were hundreds of hectares of academy grounds waiting to be explored.
Entering the room, Lohran noticed that the aristocratic brats waiting inside had shed their usual arrogance—slight nervousness was evident on their faces, despite their efforts to conceal it.
'Hmm? Are they worried their results might be different? Or…'
But before he could finish his thought, a scream of anguish erupted from behind a partition within the room, as if someone's limbs were being torn apart in a slow, gruesome manner.
Lohran was taken aback.
'The hell are they screaming for? Isn't it just some dark, slimy liquid causing a bit of havoc inside your body?' he wondered.
A few moments later, one of the aristocrats who had been shooting condescending gazes his way earlier emerged from the partition and exited the room, breathing heavily and drenched in sweat as if he had just endured a high-intensity training session.
The guy didn't even look his way—which was for the best, as this time, it was Lohran who regarded him with disdain.
'Tch, what a wuss. Isn't he embarrassed to be screaming that loud at eighteen?'
Upon second look, the brat even had the gall to look slightly proud.
The red-haired runt couldn't help but feel flabbergasted and confused.
He understood soon enough, however, as mere moments later, another scream erupted—this one much louder, almost wailing—coming from behind the second partition.
Lohran was even more bewildered.
'What the f*ck are they injecting to make these guys scream this loud?!'
It wasn't fear that gripped him but wariness—wondering if the High Republic was forcing people to fight for them by infusing some strange substance into their bodies.
The testing inevitably progressed, and the screams only grew louder, stirring a slight unease even in Lohran.
He now understood why the brat he had called a wuss earlier wore a proud look—compared to those who followed, his screams had been far less intense.
A few more minutes later, it was finally Lohran's turn.
The red-haired runt took one deep breath before proceeding into one of the partitions where his name was called.
He could only hope that nothing fishy was going on behind the scenes.
Meanwhile, the few aristocrats who had entered the room after him cast narrowed eyes his way, silently probing him as he walked past.
Some even wore mocking grins.
Arriving in the testing area, Lohran was greeted by a smiling mundane doctor—though to the red-haired runt, the man's grin felt more sinister than welcoming.
Not bothering to smile back, he quickly scanned the room for anything remotely sketchy.
He found nothing.
All he saw was the doctor, the man's desk, a piece of printed paper, a pen, and a slightly more refined testing wheelchair equipped with higher-quality devices. Nothing even came close to being suspicious.
Even so, Lohran didn't let his guard down.
'If this bastard tries anything funny…'
The next moment, the doctor finally spoke: "Young Sir Lohran Von Neyvaris, correct?"
Lohran nodded in confirmation.
"I'm sure you've experienced this a few years back. However, please anticipate greater pain this time, as we need to inject twice the previous amount to ensure perfect accuracy of your assimilation rates," the doctor warned, pausing for a moment to let the words sink in before adding, "If... you could scream less loudly, we would appreciate it."
The red-haired runt, on the other hand, suddenly breathed a sigh of relief.
'So that's why they screamed so loud…' he mused inwardly.
With his main concern gone, Lohran finally relaxed, flashing a confident smile at the doctor. "Yeah, worry not. I'm not like those wusses."
The doctor was taken aback.
The young master of House Neyvaris—so slim that he could only be either a Strider or a Gunslinger—was claiming he'd handle the pain better than even Shielders?
That was quite hilariously ignorant, wasn't it?
Nevertheless, the doctor remained professional, nodding gratefully despite not believing a word of it.
"Well then, I shall begin."
The next moment, the doctor took the testing needle and pierced it a bit deeper into Lohran's forearm than he should have.
'Ah, shit… I pushed a bit too hard…' the doctor cursed inwardly, about to apologize for his mistake.
But then, his eyes momentarily widened upon noticing that the young aristocrat had an indifferent look on his face, even yawning in boredom.
The doctor swallowed, undeniably impressed.
After an awe-struck moment, he continued, picking up the syringe containing a thicker black liquid and injecting it near the testing needle.
He then carefully administered the diluted Zoraph Cells as slowly as possible to minimize the pain for the one being tested.
At that moment, the doctor braced himself, expecting one of the loudest screams he'd probably hear that day.
But there was none…
His eyes widened, and he momentarily lost focus as he hurriedly glanced at the young master of House Neyvaris—who, just as before, was looking around with a bored expression, seemingly just waiting for the process to end.
The doctor was in utter shock and disbelief, unconsciously injecting the black liquid faster.
Lohran's expression remained the same.
At that moment, the academy professional couldn't help but glance back and forth between the syringe and the red-haired runt's face, questioning everything he had learned in his field and even doubting whether he was performing the procedure correctly.
The diluted Zoraph Cells eventually ran out, forcing the dumbfounded doctor to accept reality.
The young master of House Neyvaris was indeed unlike the earlier aristocrats.
Lost in his bewilderment, the doctor momentarily forgot that he needed to check and record the official results.
"So? What am I?" Lohran asked with furrowed brows, snapping the academy professional out of his daze.
"A-Ahh! Apologies, young master… Y-You are… a Gunslinger?…"
A Gunslinger could be this tough?! What the hell was happening?!
"Ahh, same as before, then." Lohran shrugged. "Well, if nothing changed, can you give me my official results? Apparently, I still need to submit them somewhere before I can be assigned a dormitory."
"Y-Y-Yes, young master!"
After another minute, Lohran left the partition with a nonchalant expression, the doctor's gaze glued to his retreating figure.
The red-haired runt soon exited the room, leaving behind a cluster of confused young aristocrats.
Why hadn't they heard the sweet scream of agony from the runt of the declining House of Neyvaris?
Had there been a mistake somewhere?
Without hesitation, the next aristocratic teen in line nearly jogged to the partition Lohran had just occupied.
Fixing the doctor with an unfriendly glare, the pink-haired young woman demanded, her tone laced with suspicion and threat, "You. Answer me. How did that guy get a result without even being tested? Do you want me to report you for preferential treatment?"
"A-Ahh! Young Miss Cerny! No, I tested him just like I did everyone else…" The doctor adjusted his glasses, his expression honest.
The young miss of the Minor Aristocratic House of Cerny furrowed her brows even deeper.
The man didn't seem to be lying…
"Huh? Then why didn't I hear him scream?"
"That… I wonder why and how too…"