Lukas woke up to sunlight streaming through his window and a system notification waiting for him.
[You have been idle for 8 hours]
[+8 to all stats]
[Current Stats: Strength 41, Agility 41, Mana 41, Endurance 41]
He sat up and stretched. His body felt lighter, stronger. At this rate, he'd have the physical capabilities of a veteran knight within a month.
A glance at the clock told him he had thirty minutes before the first period. He got dressed in the standard academy uniform, a black coat with silver trim, white shirt, and dark pants. Simple and practical.
The schedule on his desk listed three classes for the day: Combat Theory, Mana Fundamentals, and Practical Swordsmanship. Standard first-year curriculum. Nothing too demanding.
Lukas grabbed his bag and headed out.
The academy grounds were already bustling with activity. Students walked in groups, chatting about the entrance exam or comparing schedules. Some practiced basic spells in the courtyard. Others sparred with training weapons under the watchful eyes of upperclassmen.
It was exactly like the novel described, a prestigious institution where the kingdom's future leaders were trained.
Lukas made his way to the main academic building and found the classroom for Combat Theory. He arrived with a few minutes to spare and took a seat near the middle, not too close to the front where professors might call on him, not too far back where troublemakers usually sat.
Other students filtered in. He recognized a few faces from the entrance exam, including Marcus Fellor, who'd placed fifteenth. The guy gave him a nod of acknowledgement before taking a seat nearby.
Then Ace Reinhardt walked in.
The room quieted slightly as the protagonist entered. Students whispered and pointed. Some tried to catch his attention. Ace handled it with practiced humility, nodding politely before finding a seat near the front.
A few minutes later, Princess Seraphina arrived with her attendants. The whispers grew louder. She moved with natural grace, her golden eyes scanning the room before settling on an empty seat. Her gaze passed over Lukas for a brief moment before she sat down.
The professor entered just as the bell rang, a stern-looking woman in her forties with graying hair tied back in a tight bun.
"I am Professor Aldrin," she announced, her voice carrying easily across the room. "Combat Theory is not about swinging swords or casting flashy spells. It is about understanding why battles are won or lost. Strategy, tactics, and decision-making will be our focus."
She waved her hand, and a magical projection appeared showing a battlefield layout.
"Consider this scenario. You are leading a squad of five soldiers against ten enemies. The terrain favors neither side. What do you do?"
Hands shot up immediately. Professor Aldrin pointed to a noble near the front.
"Set up a defensive position and wait for reinforcements," the student said confidently.
"You don't have reinforcements," Professor Aldrin replied. "Next."
Another student. "Split into two groups and attack from multiple angles."
"Your squad is outnumbered two to one. Splitting up ensures both groups will be overwhelmed. Next."
The questions and answers continued. Professor Aldrin methodically dismantled each suggestion, pointing out flaws in logic or missed opportunities. It was clear she was testing how students thought under pressure.
Lukas listened quietly, analyzing the scenario in his head. The answer was obvious once you stopped thinking about winning through direct confrontation.
"Mr. Grant."
He looked up. Professor Aldrin was staring directly at him.
"You've been quiet. What would you do?"
Every head in the classroom turned toward him. Great. So much for staying under the radar.
"Retreat," Lukas said simply.
Several students snickered. Professor Aldrin raised an eyebrow. "Elaborate."
"We're outnumbered and have no reinforcements. Fighting head-on guarantees losses. The smart move is to retreat to more favorable terrain, use hit-and-run tactics to whittle down their numbers, and only engage directly when the odds are better."
The snickering stopped. Professor Aldrin studied him for a moment, then nodded.
"Correct. In warfare, knowing when not to fight is just as important as knowing how to fight. Survival is the first priority. Glory means nothing if you're dead."
She moved on to the next topic, but Lukas could feel eyes on him. Ace was looking back at him with an unreadable expression. Seraphina's gaze lingered a moment longer before she turned her attention back to the professor.
The rest of the lecture passed without incident. Professor Aldrin covered basic tactical principles, historical battles, and common mistakes made by inexperienced commanders. It was interesting enough, though nothing Lukas didn't already know from reading the novel.
When class ended, students began filing out. Lukas packed his things and headed for the door.
"Grant."
He turned. Marcus Fellor had approached, looking hesitant.
"That was a good answer back there," Marcus said. "Most people forget that retreating is an option."
"Just common sense," Lukas replied.
"Still. I wanted to ask, you're free for lunch later? I know a decent spot in the dining hall."
Lukas considered it. Making friends wasn't part of his plan, but completely isolating himself would draw attention too. Besides, Marcus seemed harmless enough.
"Sure," he said.
Marcus grinned. "Great. I'll meet you there after the third period."
They parted ways, and Lukas headed to his next class, Mana Fundamentals. This one was held in a larger lecture hall, with stadium seating and a massive stage at the front.
The professor was a tall, thin man with wire-rimmed glasses and an excitable demeanor. He immediately launched into a lecture about mana channels, mana cores, and the basic principles of magical energy.
Most of it was review for students who'd grown up in noble families with magical education. For Lukas, it was useful context for understanding how his own mana worked.
He activated Basic Mana Control experimentally, feeling the flow of energy within his body. With his current stats, his mana reserves were substantial, probably on par with a trained mage. The skill let him shape and direct that energy more efficiently, though he'd need practice to do anything practical with it.
The lecture continued. Students took notes. A few dozed off in the back rows. Lukas paid attention, filing away information that might be useful later.
When the class ended, he made his way to the training grounds for Practical Swordsmanship.
This was the class he'd been curious about. In the novel, it was where Ace first demonstrated his sword skills and earned the respect of his classmates. It was also where the protagonist met several important side characters.
The training grounds were massive—an open field with dozens of sparring circles marked out on the ground. Weapon racks lined the edges, filled with practice swords of various styles. Students were already gathering, stretching, and warming up.
The instructor was a burly man with a scarred face and arms like tree trunks. He looked more like a veteran mercenary than an academy professor.
"I'm Instructor Gareth," he barked. "I don't care about your noble titles or fancy family techniques. On this field, the only thing that matters is your skill with a blade."
He pointed to the sparring circles. "Pair up. I want to see what you're working with."
Students immediately began forming pairs. Lukas looked around and spotted an empty circle. Before he could move toward it, someone approached.
"Lukas Grant."
He recognized the voice. It was the noble from the plaza—the one he'd defeated on the first day. His expression was cold.
"How about a rematch?" the noble said. "Let's see if yesterday was really skill or just luck."
Other students were watching now. Instructor Gareth had noticed too, his eyes narrowing with interest.
Lukas could refuse. Walk away and find another partner. But that would make him look weak, and the noble would just keep pushing.
"Fine," Lukas said, walking into the sparring circle.
The noble followed, drawing his practice sword with a smirk. "Don't worry. I'll try not to embarrass you too badly."
Instructor Gareth stepped closer. "Standard rules. First to land three clean hits wins. No mana enhancement. Begin."
The noble attacked immediately, his blade coming in fast and aggressively. Lukas parried, Basic Sword Mastery guiding his movements. The noble was better than last time, more focused, less overconfident.
Their blades clashed repeatedly, the sound of wood on wood echoing across the training ground. Other students stopped their own sparring to watch.
The noble pressed forward with a combination attack, high slash, low sweep, thrust. Lukas deflected the first two and sidestepped the third, countering with a quick strike to the noble's shoulder.
One hit.
The noble's expression darkened. He came at Lukas more aggressively, abandoning technique for raw power. It was a mistake. Lukas read the pattern, ducked under a wild swing, and tapped his practice sword against the noble's ribs.
Two hits.
"Enough playing around," the noble growled.
He lunged forward with everything he had. Lukas waited until the last moment, then pivoted smoothly, letting the noble's momentum carry him past. A light tap on the back completed the match.
Three hits.
The training ground went silent.
Instructor Gareth nodded slowly. "Grant wins. Clean technique, no wasted movement. You've clearly had proper training."
The noble stood there, face red with humiliation, before stalking off without a word.
Lukas sheathed his practice sword and returned to the edge of the training ground, ignoring the stares and whispers. He just wanted to get through the day without more drama.
But as he glanced across the field, he saw Ace watching him with that same unreadable expression from earlier.
And standing at the entrance to the training grounds, Princess Seraphina observed the entire scene with calculating eyes.
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
[Timeline Divergence: 15%]
[Character behavioral patterns shifting]
[Warning: Major plot deviation possible]
Lukas sighed internally.
So much for keeping a low profile.