Internet Mage Professor-Chapter 64: Bloater

Back in Room ’33’, the sterile white lights buzzed overhead, illuminating the curved desks that surrounded the center terminal.

The simulation had just ended, and the silence that followed was filled with the low hum of defeated sighs and the occasional frustrated mutter.

Ruvin was the first to speak. "Sir, this is just... too hard... extremely too hard!"

Erik slammed his fist against the desk, his tone sharpened by irritation. "We can’t even get past a single infected! That’s not training—that’s punishment!"

Selin groaned and leaned back in her chair, eyes rolling toward the ceiling. "Seriously, this is not what we signed up for. We want something that can improve us despite being harder. We just want the old game back. You know—the one from last time. The one we could actually finish."

Calien, always the more reasonable one, folded his arms and added in a quieter voice, "We were making progress, sir. That game was tough, but fair. This one’s just... impossible."

All four of them now turned toward Nolan, seated behind his transparent system interface, the flickering blue of its Mana circuits reflecting in his cold, amused eyes. He didn’t answer at first. Just stared.

Then, slowly, his lips curled into a smirk.

"You want to go back?" he repeated, voice like a blade sheathed in sarcasm. "You think this is too hard? You think you can demand things in the Fourth Grade Academy?"

He stood.

And his voice changed.

Gone was the bored, amused tone. In its place was a sharpness—cutting and absolute.

"You think this is some storefront, some little village class where students get to vote on what game they play? No. You are not in the Second Grade Academy. You are not in the Third. Not even in the Fourth proper. You’re in my room, which means you’re on the edge—a thread away from being dismissed and discarded like the waste this realm births every day."

The classroom went silent. It seems that Teacher Nolan still couldn’t forget about earlier, when they dismissed him to the second, third, and fourth grade academy teachers he had never met.

"You speak as though you deserve something. That you’ve earned the right to say, ’We want this,’ and expect it to happen. Outsiders. Every one of you. You’re only here because I was dropped on your doorstep and left me the chore of seeing if any of you are worth more than a rotten soul crystal."

He walked across the room, slow and deliberate.

"There’s no going back. Not here. Not ever. Once you enter my trial, you keep going until your teeth are shattered, your minds cracked, and your spirit begging for mercy. You wanted a challenge? I gave it to you."

Ruvin opened his mouth to speak, but Nolan raised a hand.

"I don’t want to hear another word about fairness. Fairness is for peasants who still believe the world runs on hope and tea parties. You asked for a real simulation. One with weight. One with risk. Now you beg me to turn it off because it’s not as entertaining?"

Still, the students couldn’t help themselves.

"But sir—" Selin began.

"We give up!" Erik shouted, arms flailing in dramatic surrender. "You win! You’re better than the Second Grade instructors! Better than the Third! Even the Fourth!"

Ruvin nodded eagerly. "Way better! They don’t even come close!"

Calien added, "Please, sir. Can we go back to the old one?"

Nolan blinked. The fuck? The room was quiet again.

"Who told you to ask that?"

He sounded almost... insulted.

"In the second, third, and fourth grade academies, there’s no going back on your decision or taking their challenges. If you act like this in those academies, all of you will be discarded..."

The students all stiffened.

"Whatever," Nolan muttered, waving a hand through the interface. Then his eyes narrowed, and a crooked smile returned to his face—cold and calculating.

He remembered something. The Fourth Floor. Let’s see if this is also easy for you all brats!

’27 Seconds Later.’

He tapped through the air, hands gliding across the Mana screen. With a few swipes, he muttered, "Alright, alright. Log out now. You heard me—log out."

The students immediately obeyed, relieved.

"Next time," Nolan said, "don’t say stupid things like that. Don’t act like you’ve earned anything. You’re in my domain, and I don’t tolerate softness disguised as ambition."

They nodded quickly, not daring to make eye contact.

"Tch," Nolan scoffed. "Well, whatever."

He tapped again.

The new simulation loaded, and the system transitioned across their individual terminals.

The words lit up on the screen:

’27 Seconds Later.’

Their faces lit up too—relieved, almost giddy. This was the game they knew. The one they could beat.

One by one, their terminals loaded, each student sitting straight with fresh determination.

This time, the infected were manageable.

Still fast. Still lethal.

But not the sprinting nightmares from the previous trial. These ones walked. Fast, sure. But walkable. Killable.

The students moved through the simulation with fresh energy.

They passed the first floor in minutes—no injuries.

Second floor? A bit harder. But nothing they couldn’t handle.

Third floor? Some tense moments, but they managed.

And now... the Fourth Floor.

Their heads lifted. Eyes widened. Across the classroom, the air buzzed with excited chatter, each student locked into their own terminal, immersed yet still loud—very loud.

"I made it!" Ruvin shouted. "I’m on the fourth floor, baby!"

"Me too!" Selin laughed. "Finally, a boss fight!"

"Let’s go!" Erik bellowed. "Let’s wipe this thing!"

Each of them was playing solo, but that didn’t stop them from sharing the thrill, shouting across the room like teammates on a battlefield.

And then, they saw it.

The screen flickered as the room in-game opened.

Dark. Musty. Thick mist clinging to the floor.

At the center of the decaying, flickering hospital corridor stood a creature.

Its name floated above its head in red digital text:

BLOATER.

Their excitement dipped—but just a little.

"What the hell...?" Calien murmured.

The creature lumbered forward.

It looked human. Or rather, it had been once.

Now? It was a grotesque mass of flesh and fungal growths.

Bloated. Disgustingly swollen. Tumors layered its body in mounds, as though it had grown cysts within cysts. Pus leaked from some. Others twitched. Its skin was split in places, revealing raw, gray-pink muscle underneath. Its face had no eyes—just a cavity where the infection had swallowed everything. Its mouth drooled constantly, its breathing sounded wet, labored.

And worst of all was the smell simulated by it—putrid, rotten, stomach-turning.

"Gah, it’s like a pile of corpses stitched together," Selin gagged.

"Thing’s so fat it can’t move," Erik laughed. "We got this!"

Ruvin was already firing at it. "Slow as hell! It’s like a sack of meat!"

They launched everything—arrows, fireballs, plasma orbs.

The Bloater grunted, stumbled, and staggered backward under the barrage.

"This is too easy!" Selin cheered.

"It’s not even attacking properly," Calien said, giggling. "This is the slowest boss ever."

Their laughter echoed across Room ’33’. Their desks shook with the force of their clashing spells, their Mana circuits pulsing with colorful light.

The Bloater was down on one knee.

"Almost got it!" Ruvin shouted. "Let’s finish it!"

Then it stood back up.

They paused.

"It’s still alive?"

More attacks.

It didn’t die.

It started walking forward.

Still slow. Still shambling.

But this time, it didn’t stop.

Then—

One by one—

They died.

The screen blinked.

Game Over.

Another.

Game Over.

Each screen, in order, turned black.

Game Over.

Game Over.