I woke up and immediately stretched. Even now, I couldn't stop marveling at this body—it was far superior to my old one.
Black hair framed my face, and my eyes were dark brown—simple, ordinary, yet somehow remarkable. The look seemed standard, but at the same time uniquely mine.
I still didn't know why I had reincarnated as Renji. Maybe he had died, and I'd taken his place. Maybe it was fate. But speculating wouldn't change anything.
I would simply keep moving forward.
A loud siren suddenly blared through the dorm. I panicked, unsure of what was happening, and rushed outside. Alisa was already there, standing calmly like she'd been waiting for me.
"Good morning," I said, slightly out of breath.
She nodded. "I'll explain everything soon."
Within ten minutes, the rest of the recruits had arrived. Alisa addressed us with a firm tone.
"From now on," she said, "you are to gather at this spot every morning between 08:00 and 08:05. Anyone late will be penalized. Four penalties and you're out—disqualified from becoming a soldier, protector, or anyone with access to power."
That shut everyone up real fast.
"Each penalty," she continued, "will also increase the strain on your body during training. However, good results will earn you rewards—requests I may fulfill, if they're within my authority."
She looked at me and added, "Today, Renji was the first to arrive—and he was on time. You can make one request."
Everyone turned to me. I hesitated. "…Can I ask for it later?"
She shook her head. "State it now. No misunderstandings."
I nodded. "Then… once we're done with everything today, I'd like to speak with you privately—for five minutes."
There was silence. A few people raised their eyebrows. Even Alisa blinked—but then smiled softly. "Granted."
She explained that she would train us for the next six months. After that, we'd be allowed to choose our division and squad. If we didn't like it, we could leave now.
No one left.
We entered a classroom, and Alisa began reciting history most students already knew. But I listened carefully—every detail about this world mattered to me.
She told us that 500 years ago, Earth had thrived—advanced, clean, and beautiful. Then monsters came from other worlds and destroyed nearly everything. A portion of humanity survived and rebuilt, slowly adapting.
• The Queen of Demons and Vampires, Eva, who emerged from this world.
• The Black Knight of Death, from the Spirit Realm.
• A Ten-Tailed Fox from the Realm of Nightmares.
• A shelled, tentacled behemoth from the same nightmare realm.
• A grotesque creature with the lower body of a serpent, countless horse legs, a spider-like face, and numerous pincer-like limbs—from the Nightmare Realm.
• And finally, a seductive woman in human form with a scorpion's tail appeared. She called herself the Queen of Pleasure—the elder sister to all in her twisted kingdom. Her origins remain unknown: some claim she came from our world, others whisper she was born in the Realm of Nightmares.
"If you ever see any of them," Alisa said grimly, "don't try to fight. Don't try to help anyone. Just run. Only I and two other Saints had even the slightest chance of dealing with them. You wouldn't even leave a scratch."
Her voice made my blood freeze.
Eventually, she led us to the training field.
"You'll now spar in pairs," she said. "Pick your partner."
Before anyone could move, I raised my hand. "Can I fight… everyone at once?"
The silence was deafening.
Alisa frowned. "You think you can handle that?"
I shook my head. "No. But I want to know my limit."
A handsome guy—clearly popular with the girls—scoffed. "Don't get cocky." He stepped up to me, reaching for my shoulder, but I dodged his hand by mere millimeters.
I didn't even flinch.
The guy growled and began swinging at me, trying to land a hit, but I easily avoided all of it.
Alisa squinted her eyes. "Change of plans. I'll spar with you personally—but only after everyone else has finished their sparring sessions. For now, you'll watch."
The others paired up easily. I noticed how quickly groups had already formed. No one invited me, but I didn't mind. The strong rarely mingled with the crowd.
The students were given weapons—some received swords, others bows, spellbooks, or elemental amulets. Some used roots, vines, even full-body transformations. But most were sloppy—no control, no discipline.
Even the cocky guy had terrible sword form.
Once the spars ended, Alisa graded everyone aloud. The scale was from 1 to 5:
• 1: Beginner.
• 2: Slightly trained.
• 3: Average.
• 4: Good.
• 5: Exceptional.
Twenty people received a score of 1. Only one person—a handsome boy—got a 2. Alisa asked for his ID, touched the mastery level, and the word "Beginner" changed to "Warrior." He smiled at me smugly.
I just smiled. It was a good result—for him.
Then Alisa turned to me. "Your turn. Pick your weapon."
I scanned the racks until something pulled at me. A training weapon shaped like a katana—wooden, but perfectly balanced. It felt light. Natural.
"This one," I said.
Snickers erupted around me.
"A wooden stick?" someone mocked.
But I ignored them. I found a pair of sheaths and slid the katana inside. Alisa gave me a questioning look. "You're sure?"
"Yes."
She stepped forward, holding a rapier. "I'll fight at your level. Show me what you've got."
I nodded, took a deep breath… and drew.
My horizontal slash came fast. Alisa dodged instantly, eyes wide. Her rapier flashed forward, and I barely managed to block the blow. I retreated a few steps, baiting her into advancing. Then I struck downward.
She barely evaded by a hair's breadth.
We clashed again and again, each of my strikes faster, sharper, more unpredictable. But inside—I was terrified. I knew I couldn't win. The pressure she radiated felt crushing.
But I didn't stop.
I analyzed her movements, read her rhythm, and adapted. My attacks became more deliberate, coordinated. She parried every blow I threw, but I could sense she was testing me.
Everyone was watching. And still—the wooden katana held. It didn't break. It clashed against real metal with stunning resistance.
I suddenly leapt back, then charged forward in a burst—a feint.
She attacked, thinking I was retreating. I slipped inside her guard, swung—and aimed for her gut. I angled my body so her strike would pierce my shoulder while mine landed clean.
But just before our strikes met, she vanished.
"What—?!"
She suddenly appeared right behind me. The cold steel of her blade pressed sharply against my throat, sending a chill down my spine.
"I yield," I said.
I wasn't upset. I had known I'd lose.
She, however, surprised everyone by saying, "Technically, I lost. If we were truly equal in power, you would've beaten me. You won."
She requested my ID and tapped it. "Novice" faded away—and changed to Paladin.
The crowd gasped.
"That's impossible!"
Alisa ignored them. "He fought on my level. I had to go beyond the allowed limited strength just to beat him. My weapon mastery rank is Sword Master."
Then she added, "Your score today is 4."
I was glad.
Silence followed.
Later, after the crowd dispersed, she invited me into her room. It was plain, just as I expected.
She sat on her bed and asked, "Where did you learn to fight like that?"
I shrugged. "I trained."
"You're lying. I checked your file—you trained your body, but you had no sword background. And you searched for a katana without hesitation. Why?"
I said nothing.
She sighed. "Fine. Keep your secrets. It'll be between us."
Then I reminded her of my request—my five minutes. "I have a request: train me beyond the normal. I want overload."
She raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"To get stronger. To find my limit."
She frowned. "That's useless. You won't grow like that."
"Then how?"
"By absorbing essence cores from monsters. But be careful. Too much—or too powerful—and you'll go insane. You'll become the very thing we fight."
I nodded, thanking her.
Before I left, I asked about weapon mastery ranks. She explained that magic users don't have ranks, only physical fighters do. And no matter how skilled you are, someone with a higher raw power tier can still crush you.
I thanked her again and turned to go—but she gently grabbed my wrist.
"I didn't win fairly," she whispered. "So I owe you one more request."
I thought for a second. "Then… keep my ID. Update it whenever necessary. Just return it to me after six months. I'll check my growth then."
She smiled. "Deal."
That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.
I actually did it...
For the first time, I truly used my own fighting style.
And it worked.
I felt it deep in my bones, in the ache of my muscles, in the steady beat of my heart. This wasn't luck. This was me.
Maybe I'm not worthless after all...
For the first time in a long time, I fell asleep with a small smile on my face.