The arena cheered loudly.
In the waiting room, a figure with jet-black hair stood silently, dressed in white attire and a white cloak marked with the rune symbol of Dagaz. He adjusted the claws strapped to his wrists, each click echoing faintly against the stone walls. The roar of the crowd filtered in from above, growing.
louder by the second as the announcer prepared to call his name. Hovering in front of him was a woman—her long black hair with crimson highlights floating around him like shadows, her eyes rose-red, filled with intensity. She wore a revealing dress the color of midnight, sleek and ethereal.
"You can't be serious!" she shouted. "Over something that could change fate? All you're doing is adding another variable to the story that could affect our future!"
How did it come to this?
Originally, he wasn't from this world. Just a tired man dragged down by the weight of daily life. After a long day of work—and yet another petty scolding from his boss—he was exhausted. Mentally drained. Emotionally done. He wanted nothing more than to go home, shut out the world, and forget it all.
But fate had other plans.
As he walked home beneath flickering streetlights, a sudden, stabbing pain struck his chest. His vision dimmed. His legs buckled. And then—
Darkness.
When he opened his eyes again, everything had changed.
The cold streets were gone. Instead, he found himself standing in a world both strange and achingly familiar. A world he hadn't visited in years but knew better than anyone.
Chronicles of Etheria.
A fantasy game of swords and magic
A commoner, born with nothing, is chosen to attend a prestigious academy. There, he defies expectations, earns the respect of nobles, and captures the heart of the story's radiant heroines. embarking on a journey to slay the Demon Lord and bring peace to the human realm.
A game he had loved in his youth. As a devoted player, he had completed every quest, unlocked every achievement, and memorized the most obscure pieces of its history.
And now, somehow, he was living it.
But not as the hero.
He had become Andrias Kang—a fallen noble of the once-proud House Kang. A man whose family was slaughtered in a bloody betrayal, whose name was tarnished and soul later tainted by dark magic. In the game's story, Andrias had become a tragic figure, twisted by grief and power, only to die as a mid-game sub-boss, cut down by the hero without a second thought.
Now, he was that man.
He sat quietly in the corner of a small inn just outside Nocturne Academy, the prestigious institution funded by the Kingdom of Etheria. Nocturne—he remembered—was where the game's main story began. The early tutorial zone, the first quests, and the forming of party bonds.
Naturally, the first thing he wanted to do was check Andrias' stats if he were living in a game he used to love so dearly.
Though he'd memorized nearly every detail of the game, there had always been little information about Andrias' actual abilities. His lore was well-documented—betrayal, corruption, death—but his mechanics were left vague. Though he used only dark magic.
He raised his hand, fingers curled slightly.
As expected, a status window materialized in front of him with a faint chime, glowing softly in the air.
Andrias Kang
— Fallen Noble of House Kang —
Class: None
Magic Aptitude: Low
Physical Strength: Low–Medium
Attributes: Ice / Iron
Bloodline – The Last
Summon: ???
He narrowed his eyes. Ice and Iron? How… unexpected. It was odd—highly unusual, in fact—for someone to possess two sub-class elements as their main attributes, he had never heard of. Normally, a mage's affinity was built on the fundamental elements: Fire, Water, Earth, Lightning, Wind, light, and dark. These were the building blocks of magic. Without them, one couldn't even begin to wield the more advanced subclass elements—like Ice, Iron, Shadow, or Mist.
Even if they have the fundamentals of the elements for subclass elements to use a subclass element, a person either needs direct aptitude or mastery of its parent element. Without that elemental foundation, subclass magic was hard to control, let alone cast.
But for Andrias, it seemed different.
He had neither Fire nor Water, nor any of the main fundamentals. And yet, he could wield Ice and Iron—both subclass elements—as if they were his natural-born talents.
No preparation. No fusion. No foundation. It shouldn't be possible. Surprisingly, he couldn't use dark magic.
From what he remembered about the game's lore, dark magic wasn't something that could simply be learned. It had to be earned—through years of grief, suffering, and emotional torment. Only those who had truly lost everything, who had endured the darkness, could ever tap into its power.
And while Andrias Kang had certainly been destined to walk that path, the version of him he now inhabited… was different now. A changed mind. A new soul.
"I don't have to follow Andrias's path," he realized, a strange mix of relief and defiance rising in his chest. "That means… I can live however I want."
But something else caught his attention.
Near the bottom of the window, a line glowed faintly:
Phantasm Zone: [LOCKED]
His brow furrowed.
"Phantasm Zones"
Those were special domains—alternate, personalized battlefields tied to a character's essence. In the game, only key story figures had them: the hero and heroines, andimportant characters. Activating one granted a massive boost in power, often rewriting the rules of combat within the zone.
That a "sub-boss" like Andrias even had one was surprising.. But the ability was sealed—chained, and grayed out..
"Figures," he muttered.
Another thing that caught his attention. "Summon?" he murmured. He did remember that Andrias used a summons when they last fought each other in a game. "With my current low mana aptitude, I won't be able to summon anything for quite some time," he sighed
Still... the fact it existed at all meant there was more to this fallen noble than the game had ever shown.
"Anyways, now," he muttered
Today was the first day of the academy—if he remembered correctly.
Andrias slipped into the Nocturne Academy uniform, its design sharp and formal, woven in shades of black and deep navy. It fit him well enough, though he had to admit that the colors did not suit him at all; he preferred a more white color
He gathered his essentials, slung the bag over his shoulder, and paid the innkeeper with a quiet nod before stepping out. As the morning breeze brushed against his cloak, he pulled up his hood, hoping to go unnoticed by the other students flooding the path.
The streets were alive with chatter and excitement. First-years were everywhere—some wide-eyed and nervous, others cocky and eager. He moved through the crowd in silence, keeping his head low, blending in. Oddly enough, he hadn't seen any of the main characters yet—not the heroine, not even the protagonist himself.
Strange, he thought. They should be here by now.
He passed through the towering iron gates of Nocturne Academy and crossed the vast campus grounds, its gothic architecture looming around him like shadows of the past. Eventually, he reached the main auditorium, where the entrance ceremony was to be held.
Like everyone else, he stood around in the wide marble-floored hall, waiting. Murmurs filled the space. Students sized each other up. Some formed little groups. Others kept to themselves.
He simply stood in the crowd, unseen—watching, waiting for the entrance ceremony to begin.
Minutes later, a man stepped onto the stage.
He wore flowing robes of black and blue, his presence calm yet commanding. A long white beard framed his face, and a pair of thin-rimmed glasses rested on the bridge of his nose. His bald head gleamed under the auditorium lights.
Andrias immediately recognized him.
Kelvyn Ursen.
The Headmaster.
In the game, he was infamous—not just as an NPC, but as one of the unbeatable bosses. The strongest sorcerer in the entire Chronicles of Etheria. A secret fight you could trigger by sneaking into his office and pushing all the wrong buttons.
"Every time I tried to fight that guy, I got annihilated in seconds," Andrias recalled, a chill running down his spine. "My longest survival time was ten minutes."
But seeing him now—in person—was something else entirely. The sheer presence Kelvyn radiated wasn't just power; it was legacy. Authority. A man who could end battles with a single incantation.
The room fell silent as the Headmaster raised a hand and began to speak.
"Welcome, students, to Nocturne Academy," he said, his voice firm and echoing with enchantment. "I am your Headmaster, Kelvyn Ursen. Here, we expect the best from you. Whether noble or commoner, your status outside these walls holds no weight. What matters is what you achieve—what you become."
The Grandmaster paused, then slowly raised his hand.
"Here it comes," Andrias thought, letting out a slight grunt under his breath.
From the side of the stage, a figure emerged.
A teenager, tall and composed, with blonde hair that caught the light like polished gold, stepped forward. He wore the royal white and gold variant of the Nocturne uniform—a pristine, custom-tailored outfit that shimmered with authority, branded with the royal family's crest. These were the royal family's colors, unmistakable.
It was tradition at Nocturne Academy: nobles wore specially designed uniforms, each marked with their family crest, so their status would never be mistaken. A sharp reminder of the divide between commoner and aristocrat.
There was no mistaking him.
He was the Hero. Lucien Etheria.
Around the same age as Andrias Kang, Lucien had been brought into the royal family itself, exalted as the savior of the realm. The golden boy of fate. The chosen one. The protagonist of the game. The shining light of Etheria's fate.
Andrias crossed his arms, eyes narrowing slightly as he watched Lucien.
Maybe… there's a chance we're the same, he mused. Both of us came from another world, didn't we?
Though there was a difference.
Lucien was clearly isekai'ed—summoned with a purpose, given the role of a hero, blessed with power and attention.
Andrias, on the other hand, had simply transmigrated into the body of a tragic sub-boss. No destiny. No fanfare. Just memories of a game and a future that was supposed to end in death.
It's a possibility, he thought, but not one worth thinking over.
From the stage, the Headmaster's voice rang out, strong and commanding:
"The hero, Lucien—who will bring order to Etheria and defeat the Demon Lord when the time comes!"
"I expect all of you to treat the Hero well. That is all."
The auditorium quickly stirred into motion. The crowd buzzed with whispers and admiration as the students filed out of the hall.
Andrias turned and quietly slipped away through the gates.
He wandered into the town just beyond the academy grounds. Streets stretched before him, lined with simple shops and homes, familiar in layout yet strange in their vivid realism.
He checked the small pouch of coins in his pocket.
Barely enough for food.
Back at the inn, Andrias sat on the edge of the bed, eyes fixed on the flickering status window hovering before him.
He raised his hand slightly, concentrating, attempting to channel his magic. A faint chill formed in the air around his fingers—just a whisper of cold. Frost shimmered briefly, then vanished.
"Nothing. Just as expected," he muttered with a sigh.
With such low magic aptitude, casting even the simplest spell was a struggle. Offensive magic was completely out of reach—for now.
He leaned back onto the bed, exhaling slowly, and lifted his hand again. This time, a faint clink followed as iron slowly crept across his skin, forming a thin metallic layer over his forearm. It wasn't flashy or powerful, but it was something at least he could defend himself. For now, this would have to do.
The following day at the academy, dorm assignments were handed out.
Well, that takes care of one problem, Andrias thought, glancing over the dorm key in his hand. At least I don't have to worry about housing anymore.
"Worrying about funding for a living space is off the list. Although... money is still a problem."
As he made his way across the campus grounds, his steps were slow and distracted. He barely registered the other students passing by, his mind drifting.
I don't have to do much, he mused. Just live a quiet, simple school life. Keep my head down, let the game run its course.
That was the safest plan. Stay out of the main plot. Avoid conflict. Don't draw attention.
Maybe I'll even become an adventurer. Something low-key. No demon lords. No heroes. Just guild work and coin.
–Bump!
"Sorry," Andrias said, taking a step back.
He'd accidentally bumped into a nearby student, knocking the poor guy to the ground. Without hesitation, Andrias looked down and offered his hand.
The student—a boy with messy green hair, wearing the standard commoner uniform—blinked up at him, surprised. He stuttered slightly as he reached out. Just your average side character.
"S-sorry!"
"No, it's my fault for not paying attention," Andrias replied, helping him to his feet.
The boy stared at him for a moment longer, then tilted his head.
"Wait… you're Andrias Kang, right?"
Andrias paused. Shit.
He gave a slow nod.
"Wow…" the boy muttered, eyes widening.
Andrias braced himself. He stood still, waiting for it—the outburst, the disgust, the usual fear or contempt that followed his name.
Fallen Nobles were seen as lower than commoners, their names disgraced and their bloodlines tarnished. And House Kang? Their fall was well-earned. They had been feared—ruthless, cruel, and unrelenting. And the old Andrias had lived up to every bit of that infamy.
But then the boy smiled, eyes glittering—not with fear, but something else.
"You're… different from the rumors," he continued, "anyway, name Noah."
Andrias paused. "Rumors," he murmured under his breath, before shifting back into the conversation.
The two of them wandered off and sat down at a nearby bench beneath a large ironwood tree. A quiet breeze passed between them.
It seemed the fall of House Kang had been announced across several regions of Etheria. News traveled fast—even faster when it involved noble blood.
This might be a problem for my peaceful school life…
How bothersome.
Noah glanced over and caught the distant look on Andrias's face.
"Everything alright?" he asked.
"Yeah," Andrias replied with a small nod. "Just lost in thought."
He leaned back against the bench and let out a long sigh. "Anyway, where are you headed next?"
"First to the dorms," Noah said. "Then to the Alchemy Faculty to sign up."
"You're an alchemist?"
"Yes. Well—no. Not yet, at least." He rubbed the back of his neck, a bit sheepishly. "After graduation, I plan on heading to the capital. Gonna try to join the Royal Alchemist Division... though, that's just a dream."
"I'm rooting for you."
Noah chuckled. "Thanks."
He looked over. "What about you?"
"Similar. First to the dorms," Andrias said, stretching his arms. "Then straight to bed."
The two parted ways shortly after, and Andrias made his way to his assigned dorm room. He unlocked the door, stepped inside, and dropped his things with a tired sigh. Without wasting a second, he collapsed onto the bed.
Tomorrow… classes.
Another step into this new life.
He was surprised, honestly. So far, he'd been walking around completely unnoticed. No whispers. But he knew that wouldn't last forever.
Eventually, someone will notice. And when that happens… I'll have to deal with it.
The bed was far more comfortable than the one at the inn. Softer, cleaner, and warmer.
He lifted his hand, like he had the night before.
Slowly, iron crept across his skin, crawling over his fingers and forearm like living armor. He turned his hand slightly, moving it up and down. He could feel the smooth, plated weight of it—cool to the touch, dense and heavy.
He tried hardening the joints too, just to test it—but the moment he did, he could no longer move them. The metal locked his hand in place.
"At least there's a bit of realism to this world," he muttered.
The iron skin wasn't just for show. It had weight. It restricted movement. If he wanted to coat his entire body in it—or fight while using it properly—he'd need to develop more than just magical control.
"I'll have to focus on my physical strength first," he thought aloud. "Magic alone won't fix these limitations."
He let the iron fade from his arm and exhaled deeply, letting the fatigue sink in.
Tomorrow's going to be busy.