Internet Mage Professor-Chapter 77: Single player

The announcement struck them like a thunderbolt in a single island. But this time, it’s to their classroom.

"Single player," Nolan repeated, casually typing into the console. "Same scenario. No help."

The room froze.

The four students looked at one another with wide eyes, the kind of look shared between soldiers who’d just heard they’d be going into a battlefield alone. A hollow silence lingered for several seconds, only broken by the faint hum of the simulator systems powering down and resetting behind Nolan.

"...Single player?" Selin said, her voice barely above a whisper, uncertain if she’d heard him right.

"You can’t be serious," Ruvin added quickly, his voice rising, eyes flicking between the others for confirmation. "That—no, that’s just not possible. We barely survived together."

Erik crossed his arms tightly and took a slow breath. "Sir, that’s the mode that got us killed. Repeatedly. That’s the same game we spent the entire week failing in."

Nolan didn’t respond immediately. He just leaned against the desk again and watched them with the calm patience of someone waiting for his students to process their own panic.

"I mean," Ruvin continued, "that thing literally outpaced us. It’s like it had a sixth sense. One misstep and it charges. We died—what? Thirty, forty times?"

"Forty-six," Selin muttered, eyes still wide. "And it wasn’t even close. Every run ended with us in pieces. Literally."

"We’re not ready for that," Erik said, gesturing sharply. "We just started figuring it out as a team. You want us to go back to that nightmare solo? What’s the point? It’s suicide."

"It’s not even logical," Ruvin said, practically pacing now. "That thing doesn’t just hit hard, it reads us. Adapts. It rushes when you blink wrong. When we played it alone, we didn’t last more than thirty seconds! Even I died and I had the best armor buff in the team!"

"I died while running away," Calien added with a snort. "Like, how the hell does it catch me after I dodge-roll? That’s cheating."

They laughed nervously, but the tension didn’t ease. The anxiety was real.

"You want us to do that again?" Selin asked Nolan, her tone incredulous. "And just—what? Not die?"

Nolan raised a hand, calm and composed.

"You can do it," he said, voice soft but firm.

The words sounded so absurdly simple in the context of their growing panic, it almost came off as a joke. The students looked at him like he had just suggested they jump into lava and come out with better skin.

"Respectfully, sir," Erik said, slowly, "no, we can’t."

"Yes, you can," Nolan repeated, this time with a hint of a smirk. "In fact, you’ll find it easier."

Selin blinked. "Easier? You mean compared to what? Compared to dying in two seconds?"

"Multiplayer is harder," Nolan said.

And that silenced them.

He could see it in their expressions—the way their brows creased, the way their lips parted, but no sound came out. The idea alone made no sense. They’d spent the entire last arc struggling to beat the bloater as a team. Even with all their coordination, planning, rotation, rhythm, and simulated adrenaline, it was barely manageable.

And Nolan was claiming single-player was somehow easier?

"Let me explain," he said, stepping forward, fingers loosely folded behind his back. "Multiplayer gives you options. That’s the problem."

The students frowned in confusion.

"When there are multiple players in a fight, the system AI behaves more dynamically. It adapts. It reads collective patterns. Predicts formations. The more of you there are, the more variables it calculates. It expects complexity. It creates counters."

They listened, stunned.

"It tracks who’s the biggest threat. It predicts bait tactics. It punishes delayed response chains. It looks for the weakest in the formation and presses that weakness. It’s not just reacting. It’s learning. Each teamfight adds a layer of behavioral feedback. In short... the game scales harder because you’re together."

Selin’s mouth opened slightly. "Wait. So when we work as a team..."

"It sees you as a greater threat," Nolan nodded. "It prepares for team synergy. That’s why your mistakes get punished harder. That’s why your successes feel more earned. But in single-player mode, it narrows down its focus. It doesn’t expect teamwork. It just expects survival."

The revelation settled into their minds like a boulder dropping into a calm lake.

"In single player," Nolan continued, "you only have to manage one tempo—yours. No formations to hold. No positioning delays. No waiting for someone else to bait or peel. You are the whole equation. The AI reduces its aggression curve, lowers unpredictability slightly. Still deadly—but manageable. If you remember the rhythms."

The students exchanged glances.

"You’re saying we were fighting on hard mode this whole time?" Ruvin muttered, jaw slack.

"You were training to fight the worst-case scenario," Nolan said. "That’s why I pushed you so hard. Now it’s time to see what you can do alone. This is where you prove if you’ve really understood what you learned."

There was a pause as the realization washed over them. Ruvin turned to Selin. "So... who goes first?"

Selin shook her head immediately. "Don’t look at me."

"I still need to digest what he just said," Erik muttered.

And as always, almost predictably, they all turned their eyes to Calien.

Calien tilted his head, lips pressed together in an unimpressed line. "Why do I always get volunteered?"

"Because you’re the least panicky," Selin replied.

"And the best at adjusting mid-fight," Erik added.

Ruvin shrugged. "And also... you kinda volunteered yourself last time."

With a theatrical sigh, Calien rolled his shoulders and walked toward the console, muttering something about "dying with style." The others followed and stood behind him, arms folded, curious and tense.

Calien sat down. He placed the headset on with a deep breath, feeling the familiar mental shift of the simulator draw him in. The environment loaded with a flicker.

The bloater’s room.

Empty. Dim. Stale air.

He stood alone in the dark space, footsteps echoing faintly as he walked forward. The monster had not yet spawned, but the environment already filled him with that odd tension. Memories of past failures flickered at the back of his mind—so many horrible, sudden deaths, unpredictable lunges, that foul stench as the bloater tackled him down and—

No.

No, this wasn’t then.

He wasn’t that same student anymore.

He remembered Nolan’s words—about rhythm, about flow, about shapes. He breathed in, slowly, evenly, and closed his eyes for a moment.

When they opened, they were focused.

The bloater spawned with a roar.

The fight began.

Calien didn’t move instantly. He let the monster stomp toward him, studied its gait. He didn’t charge. He didn’t retreat. He simply circled slowly, like a predator measuring prey. And that’s when it clicked.

He saw it.

Not just the bloater’s path, but its pattern. The way its shoulders shifted a half-second before it lunged. The beat of its growl, followed by a rise in momentum. The way it baited dodges with erratic pacing—but only when it was in left-side dominant position.

He recognized it now.

Tempo.

The monster charged—and he rolled cleanly behind it. Smooth. He slashed once, quickly, and repositioned. Another roar. It turned. He backed off, drew it again.

This time, he rolled left. It whiffed again.

Then it began adapting. The pace picked up. It tried a feint.

But Calien didn’t bite.

He watched the feint pass harmlessly, and countered with a clean burst. The bloater staggered.

He rolled behind it.

Struck.

Moved again.

He was no longer reacting—he was dancing.

His actions were no longer hesitant. No longer cautious. They were measured. Precise. Each movement sharpened by instinct forged in failure and refinement. The tension in his shoulders melted. His breathing steadied. His blade moved like it had weight and purpose.

Even as the bloater grew more erratic, he remained centered.

The fight went on for over two minutes. Then one more strike landed—clean across the neck.

The bloater crumbled.

Silence.

The system chimed.

Simulation complete.

Calien removed the headset and sat still for a second, blinking into the real world.

The others were staring at him, wide-eyed.

He stood up.

"...What?" he asked, voice still half-lost in the daze.

"It’s that easy?"