Strongest Existence Becomes Teacher

Zane watched the broadcast screen calmly, slurping a hot bowl of noodles as if it were just another lazy afternoon. On the display, a group of students fought a snarling wolf monster with decent coordination—one of them narrowly avoiding a swipe to the face.

Lucen walked in, froze, and blinked at the sight.

"Where did you get that?" he asked, pointing at the steaming bowl in Zane's hands.

Zane, still chewing, lazily tilted his head toward his bag and pointed with his chopsticks.

Lucen stared for a second, sighed, then muttered, "Well, whatever. Come on, you're meeting your colleagues."

Zane slurped the rest of the noodles in a long pull, then lifted the bowl and drank down the broth with a satisfied hum. Setting it back into his bag with casual precision, he stood up.

"Well," Lucen gestured. "Let's go then."

The two began walking, and soon reached another screen where a small group of four to five individuals stood, engaged in quiet conversation. As they approached, Lucen clapped his hands lightly.

"Everyone," he called, drawing their attention. "I'd like to introduce your new colleague and professor… Mr. Zane Creed."

Zane gave them a calm nod, hands in his coat pockets, eyes scanning each one casually.

"Hey," he said simply.

The tense air gradually softened as the elders and instructors of Astralis Arcanum began to smile and step forward, one by one.

First came an elderly man whose presence radiated calm wisdom. Draped in layered, earth-toned robes woven with ancient runes, his silver beard flowed down to his chest, and his weathered face held a gentle, thoughtful smile. Though he leaned slightly on a gnarled wand-cane, his piercing blue eyes gleamed with sharpness.

"Hello, child," he greeted softly, his voice like warm parchment. "I am Aldren Sagewell."

Zane smiled slightly, his thoughts idly drifting.

This guy's stronger than Lucen... and older too. Yet he's not the vice chairman?

Before he could respond aloud, a cheerful voice interrupted.

"Hello, Zane!" chirped a lively young woman as she practically skipped toward him. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, her auburn bob bouncing with each step. Her soot-smudged gloves and enchanted tools clinking at her belt spoke of long hours spent in workshops. "I'm Mira Sorenhal, head of Magic Artifacts and Enchantments! Nice to meet ya!"

Zane blinked at her sudden burst of energy, only for a comedic moment to unfold before him.

A blur shot past—Lucen.

He landed a firm knuckle strike on Mira's head.

"Rude brat! Don't interrupt Aldren like that, he's your elder!"

"Ow ow ow!" Mira groaned, holding her head with both hands. "Sorry, sorry! I got excited!"

Aldren chuckled gently, waving it off with patient grace.

Zane could only shake his head lightly, amused.

Aldren chuckled softly, his gaze shifting toward Lucen. "No worries, Lucen. She's young and energetic."

Then he turned back to Zane with a warm smile. "I'm Aldren Vance, Head of the Magic Department."

Zane nodded politely, offering a respectful smile. "Zane Creed. Nice to meet you, sir."

Just then, a massive shadow loomed in front of him. A towering figure stepped forward—broad shoulders, muscles like chiseled stone, and skin etched with scars from battles long past. His wild steel-black hair was loosely tied back, and a thick beard framed his rugged, square face. Ice-grey eyes locked onto Zane with a fierce, primal spark. Bone trophies, claw trinkets, and rough furs adorned his hardened leather armor, while glowing runes shimmered faintly on his bracers and pauldrons.

Zane tilted his head slightly, still smiling. "And who might you be, sir?"

The man grunted. "Varris Denholm. I teach combat."

With that, Varris stepped back to his place, arms crossed as he silently observed the ongoing exams.

Zane let out a short chuckle. "Not a fan of long introductions, I see."

Lucen smiled, amused. "That's just how he is. His personality shows more when he teaches. Well... he is a barbarian, after all."

Zane glanced toward Varris, then back to Lucen. "Barbarian, huh? Looks human—just bulkier... and taller."

Lucen shrugged. "Pretty much. There are others too, but they're not here—some are tied up with research or other responsibilities."

Zane gave a light nod. "Understood."

After the introductions were done, Lucen stretched and said casually, "Anyway, let's get back to your seat. I'll let you watch the exam in peace.

Zane nodded, walking beside him as they exited the hallway. Lucen continued, "Oh, and by the way, that whole barrier setup for the combat trial? It's all done by Professor Aldren."

Zane raised a brow slightly. "Hmm… that explains why it's decent."

They walked back to the spot Zane had been seated earlier. Once they reached, Lucen gave him a short nod before turning away. "Enjoy the show," he said before vanishing into the crowd with easy steps.

Zane plopped down onto the bench, leaned back comfortably, and reached into his dimensional bag. A moment later, he pulled out a box of piping hot pizza, steam still rising from it.

He opened the lid with a small grin, took a slice, and took a bite.

"Watching fights and pizza… just feels right," he muttered to himself, eyes fixed on the battlefield projection .

Scene Change – Ron's POV (Sometime Before)

After successfully passing the written exam, Ron and Lia were guided into the next hall. An instructor awaited them, handing each of them a small badge and a sleek black ring. Another batch of candidates stood nearby, receiving the same treatment from a different instructor.

Without much delay, Ron and Lia's group was led out of the city via a swift flight by their assigned examiner. The sky blurred past as the group soared high above the land, and before any candidate could properly observe the terrain below, they descended sharply.

The moment they landed, the vast examination field unfolded before their eyes—an enormous expanse divided into diverse terrains: forests, mountains, wetlands, desert zones, and glacial stretches. It was a wild mix, clearly designed to test all kinds of abilities.

The instructor's voice cut through the murmurs, explaining the details of the test once more—the function of the rings and badges, the barrier that marked the field's boundary, and the fact that it would start shrinking after an hour. Everyone would be teleported randomly into the terrain, and survival would depend not just on strength, but adaptability.

Ron turned to Lia. Their eyes met.

"Be safe," she said softly.

"You too," he nodded.

They both stepped forward and touched the shimmering teleportation barrier at the same time.

---

A sudden jolt twisted Ron's senses. His vision blurred as the world spun unnaturally. When he finally opened his eyes, a wave of nausea hit him like a punch—but he clenched his jaw and forced it down.

A sharp chill bit into his skin.

"Tch… Ice area," he muttered, glancing around at the frost-covered rocks and glimmering white expanse. "Definitely a disadvantage… but also more of a challenge."

He took a deep breath, and mana surged through his veins. A reddish-orange glow enveloped his body as a thin layer of fiery mana wrapped around him, warming his limbs instantly.

"Better," he exhaled, steam rising from his breath. "But I'll need to keep this up the whole time."

He turned in a slow circle, scanning the perimeter. In the far distance, he spotted the faint shimmer of the barrier.

"If that's one side of the boundary… then this place is near the edge. And the barrier's going to shrink."

Cracking his knuckles and tightening his grip on the spear strapped to his back, he started moving, snow crunching beneath his boots.

The cold didn't matter.

He was fired up now.

.

.

.

Ron trudged through the snow, his breath visible in the frigid air. As he moved farther from the icy battlefield, the snow began to thin out slightly. Soon, he reached a patch of frostbitten forest, where the trees stood like silent sentinels and the wind howled through frozen branches.

Finally, at a safe distance from the barrier's edge, he let out a quiet sigh and deactivated his magic aura coating. The biting cold struck him instantly.

"Gotta conserve mana…" he muttered, pulling his cloak tighter. But just as the cold started sinking in—

Rustle.

Groan.

Ron froze.

"Oh man," he groaned. "Just when I thought I'd get to conserve mana…"

From the edge of the trees, a group of wolves emerged, their eyes glowing faintly in the dim light, their breath steaming.

Ron narrowed his eyes.

The sight reminded him—vaguely—of his first encounter with Mr. Zane. A small smile tugged at his lips, but he shook the thought away.

"No time to dwell in the past. Come on, then."

He reached over his shoulder and drew his spear, spinning it once before taking a battle stance.

The wolves lunged.

Ron dashed forward with surprising speed. His spear found its mark, slamming into the skull of the first wolf with brutal precision. Without pausing, he kicked the butt of the spear, forcing the head clean through—and into the skull of the second wolf just behind it.

Two down.

He didn't stop. Twisting, lunging, and spinning, Ron began overwhelming the pack. His movements were fluid but vicious, every strike laced with deadly intent. One by one, the wolves fell until the last collapsed into the snow.

Ron exhaled, lowering his spear.

"That was a good warmup."

Glancing at the bodies, he crouched beside one and unsheathed a small blade from his belt. He worked quickly, awkwardly skinning the wolves. The process wasn't perfect—far from it—but it was enough. He bundled some of the furs together and wrapped them around his shoulders, tying them with cord from his pouch.

The makeshift cloak looked ragged and uneven, but it did its job.

It kept out the cold.

He stood up, adjusted the furs, and began walking again—this time toward the farthest edge of the barrier.