Solo Cultivating in Superhero Academy
Chapter 92: Access Denied

Chapter 92: Access Denied

"Who cares?" Elius said with a shrug, turning toward the one who asked about Jiro’s condition. His tone was light, dismissive, even flippant. "As long as he’s alive, I won the bet."

The surrounding crowd of F-ranked Superheroes looked visibly deflated.

A collective sigh of disappointment spread among them like ripples across a still pond.

Some muttered complaints under their breath, others crossed their arms or kicked the dirt.

The excitement had turned sour in their mouths.

They’d been hoping for a win—not out of malice, but because most of them didn’t believe the rookie Sword Immortal could pull it off.

They were wrong.

Then, with a mechanical hum and a faint hiss of hydraulics, something approached.

Vrrrt—whiiiirrr—click!

A small robot—round, sleek, no taller than a child—glided to a stop in front of Elius. Its body bore the official insignia of Academy High’s administrative droid network.

Two arms folded neatly into its sides, and a glowing panel lit up on its chest. Elius narrowed his eyes.

Hmm?

These robots only appeared under very specific conditions—when achievements had been officially logged and verified by the Academy’s internal system.

So why was it here?

"—Sword Immortal Elius Northrim," the robot chirped in a cheerful monotone, "you have successfully completed a dungeon challenge with all assigned sidekicks surviving. Distribution of reward commencing."

Chik-chik! Vwoosh!

A compartment in the robot’s side slid open, revealing a neat stack of glimmering red-orange crystals.

"Fifty Fire Magic Crystals awarded."

Elius blinked. That was... generous.

But the robot wasn’t done.

Ding!

"Additional bonus awarded: seventy-six Magic Crystals. Total crystals awarded—one hundred twenty-six. Categorization: One hundred seven Fire Magic Crystals. Nineteen Earth Magic Crystals."

The compartment lifted, and the magic crystals floated gently into the air, suspended by telekinetic fields.

They hovered over to Elius’s waiting hand like docile birds.

He reached out, collecting the glowing fragments, and the moment they touched his palm, he could feel the dense spiritual energy inside each one.

Magic Crystals...

They were the Academy’s equivalent of spiritual stones in his game that is similar to his system and it works just like it.

Perfect for cultivation, conversion, or even barter.

Useful in nearly every aspect of training.

Elius’s eyes glimmered slightly.

The Academy was stingy when it wanted to be, but when it came to rewarding actual performance? It wasn’t afraid to pay up.

He casually slid the crystals into his robe to make them look like he didn’t put them inside his system and after that, he looked around.

"But," he muttered, "wasn’t there that loudmouth group...?"

He snapped his fingers, trying to remember. "Justice Juniors Vanguard or something? Didn’t they also make a bet? Where are they now?"

There was a long pause.

Then, a short, almost hesitant voice replied from somewhere behind him, "They failed. One of them died in the dungeon... so they lost the bet."

Elius grinned.

"I thought so too."

He said it without a shred of sympathy. Not because he hated them, but because he expected it.

The Justice Juniors Vanguard had chosen a dungeon ranked F, just like him. But unlike his, theirs was on the verge of evolving into an E-rank.

It wouldn’t have been impossible to survive—but for immature students with no understanding of danger levels?

Well.

"I actually thought three or four of them would die," Elius continued with a smirk, folding his arms. "Guess they were lucky."

A few of the nearby Heroes shivered at his casual tone. Not because it was cruel—but because it was true.

Dungeon exploration wasn’t about flashy powers or colorful costumes.

It was about reading threats, judging risks, and preparing for the unexpected.

Elius hadn’t completed the dungeon because of overwhelming strength—he’d succeeded because of clarity. Discipline. Strategy.

He turned to look at his sidekicks.

Clint was standing upright, arms crossed but quiet. Balkan was wiping off sweat from his forehead. Monkaar adjusted the straps on the stretcher carrying Jiro, who was still unconscious but stable.

Elius stared at them.

"Get ready," he said flatly. "We’re going in again."

The three sidekicks looked up, surprised.

"Huh?"

"Already?"

"You’re not serious..."

But Elius had already stepped toward the hovering robot. He pulled out his Academy-issued ID and slid it toward the drone’s reader port.

The robot’s eyes flashed green for a moment, scanning.

"Request: Entry into new dungeon. Classification: F-rank," Elius said.

There was a pause.

Then the robot spoke again—this time in a slightly more official tone.

"Access denied."

Elius raised a brow. "Why?"

"Clarification: Student profile ’Sword Immortal - Elius Northrim’ has already accessed the maximum number of dungeons permitted for current rank and class level. Current permissions allow for: one Beginner Dungeon and one F-rank Dungeon. No additional entries permitted unless under mission assignment or class curriculum."

He sighed. He already knew that. But he had hoped—just a little—that his defeat of Lava Scissor, a peak F-ranked villain who was borderline E-rank, would merit a special override.

Guess not.

"Additional note," the robot added. "To gain further access to dungeons or ranked missions, Student Elius Northrim must attend classes, complete the semester curriculum, and pass required trials."

Elius folded his ID back into his robe with a lazy flick.

"Figures," he muttered. "No shortcuts, huh?"

Even in a school that trained future superpowered defenders of humanity, bureaucracy was still king.

Oh well.

He turned back to his sidekicks. "Forget the dungeon. Clint, Balkan, Monkaar—carry Jiro to the sidekick hospital."

The three looked at him in confusion.

"Wait—you’re not coming with us?"

"Where are you going, boss?"

Elius was already turning, walking away from the rift’s edge. The white folds of his robe trailed behind him, a faint golden sheen glimmering across his shoulders as the light of the dimensional rift cast its glow.

"I’m going to class," he said without turning back.

They blinked.

"Class...?" Balkan repeated, stunned.

Elius paused in his steps, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk.

"Exactly. So go..."

He faced forward again.

"I have no intention of teaming up again with you all... but maybe in the future, if you’re all capable..."

And just like that, he left the crowd of Heroes, the murmuring students, the whispering administrators, and even his own stunned sidekicks behind.

...

The burger was warm and juicy, the kind that dripped fat down your fingers if you didn’t hold it right.

Elius took another bite, barely tasting it. His sharp eyes scanned the Academy courtyard from his seat in the corner of the outdoor dining area, framed by glass walls and shade trees.

Despite the chatter of students and the occasional sound of flight boots or jet packs igniting in the background, his thoughts were elsewhere.

His father.

Radiant Man.

Just thinking the name made his brows furrow ever so slightly.

Elius chewed slowly, then swallowed, setting the half-eaten burger down onto the tray.

His father had made his move—not violently, not openly—but with the kind of subtlety that was worse than a punch to the gut.

Radiant Man had painted a bullseye on his son’s back at the entrance ceremony, lauding him publicly, elevating him with words that masked a challenge in plain sight: he might be the only one who can hurt me.

Worse, he already contacted his Solarion Empire probably as he wanted an alone time with him.

And now?

Elius rubbed the bridge of his nose.

He wasn’t allowed to enter another dungeon unless it was part of a mission or a class assignment.

That wouldn’t be a problem, normally—except that the classes at Academy High were a waste of time for someone like him.

Most of the curriculum was built for greenhorns, first-time power users, aspiring hopefuls who couldn’t tell the difference between internal energy flow and muscle cramping.

He’d have to sit through months of hand-holding lectures, slow progression rates, and power-control exercises designed for kids still figuring out what end of the sword to hold.

But the alternative? Doing nothing?

Unacceptable.

With a grunt, he finished the burger in two more bites, wiped his hands, and stood.

The tray clattered softly as he returned it to the automated waste dispenser.

Without a word, he turned and made his way across the campus, white robe flowing like silk behind him, the slight breeze rustling its hem.

He approached one of the quieter buildings on the northern side of Academy High.

It didn’t look particularly grand—nothing like the gilded halls of the Combat Arena or the Vault of Capes. But it had a different kind of authority.

A sign above the arched glass doors read: Hero Invitation Hall.

Unlike most buildings, this one didn’t need a password or scan to enter. It wasn’t crowded either. Not many students even knew what it was. That was the point.

This was where recommendations were made. Not applications. Not sign-ups. Just invitations.

An invitation wasn’t the same as applying through the standard public system.

An invitation bypassed entrance exams, skipped weeks of vetting, ignored power classification bureaucracy. But only students or Heroes with enough authority could use this channel.

Elius had neither of those things—at least not on paper. But he had information. And information was power.

He stepped through the doors, his footsteps echoing against the polished tiles of the hallway.

At the far end was a small desk manned by an old woman in a Superhero costume—an outdated model from the Second Generation, complete with shoulder tassels and armored sleeves.

Her visor glinted softly as she looked up at him.

She gave him a squint.

"You’re a student?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Hmph. Don’t look like one."

She tapped a button on the side of her terminal and leaned back slightly. "Name?"

"Elius Northrim."

She paused, her fingers hovering above the keyboard. "Northrim? Any relation to..."

"No," Elius interrupted flatly. "I’m just here for the invitation process."

She eyed him with narrowed eyes, but didn’t push further.

"Who do you want to invite?" she asked instead.

Elius answered without hesitation.

"Keith Northrim."

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