"Silence."
The single word cracked through the air like a whip, and the entire classroom obeyed at once. Conversations choked mid-breath, laughter died in throats, and the rustling of papers and boots stopped. Every head turned toward the woman who had entered. Authority dripped from her without effort.
I leaned back in my chair, arms folded loosely, eyes narrowing as I took her in.
Professor Elizabeth Florentis.
Tall, sharp, and refined. Long strands of purple hair fell in waves down her back, framing a face of stark precision. Her red eyes cut across the room like blades, dissecting every student in silence before she spoke.
"Good morning, class," she said. Her voice was calm—steady, measured—but it carried the weight of command. "Let's begin with attendance. After that, today's topic will be the proper usage and handling of weapons in combat."
I studied her more carefully than anyone else seemed to. She wasn't just an instructor wearing the Nexus Hunter Academy emblem over a neatly pressed shirt and navy blazer. No, she was an active hunter, ranked 350 globally. That alone would have been intimidating, but for context—she had reached that position at the age of twenty-two, the first female hunter to break into the triple digits at such a young age. In the world of hunters, that wasn't just talent—it was brilliance sharpened into a weapon.
Her attire, though modest, reflected that balance of combat and formality: a dark blazer, fitted trousers meant for mobility, durable boots scuffed from use. A professional uniform, but one that whispered of blood spilled and enemies defeated.
And, of course, my memory filled in the rest. From the game, I knew this woman would one day extend her hand toward Michael Orbane, taking interest in him—not because of his family background but because of his raw, unpolished potential. She would help shape him.
But that was the game. This was reality.
"Student rank 2500, Arthur Dravenlock."
And just like that, she started with me.
My gaze didn't flicker. Of course she would. Attendance was always taken from the lowest-ranked upward, dragging my name into the spotlight before anyone else's.
As expected, whispers rose, smirks twitched on faces, and eyes darted toward me—mockery so loud it didn't need sound.
"Present," I said evenly, voice flat, expression empty.
Let them stare. Let them think whatever they wanted. Their opinions weren't worth the energy it would take to scowl.
Elizabeth marked her roll without reaction.
"Student rank 2335, Robert Stern."
"Present."
"Student rank 2254, Jareth Tach."
"Present."
"Student rank 1832, Michael Orbane."
"Present."
My gaze flicked sideways, just for a moment, at the boy who would one day be at the heart of it all. Michael. His posture was tense but steady, his voice firm despite the weight of his low rank. In the game, this same sight had once buried the original Arthur in despair: watching another low-ranked student claw his way upward into glory while he himself remained in the shadows.
I turned my head away, disinterested, leaning back in my chair as the roll continued.
"Student rank 780, Selena Lorventis."
Ah. There it was. My attention sharpened.
Selena. The golden-haired healer, green eyes bright as spring. Future Saintess, beloved in the story for her kindness and unwavering desire to help others. Born from a middling family but raised by ambition, she had carved her way into the Academy with a rare affinity for healing magic.
She wasn't awakened yet—not fully. For now, she was just another face. But I knew better.
"Present," she answered, softly.
"Student rank 84, Silas Stormvale."
"Present."
"Student rank 70, Jurian Evercrest."
"Present."
The noble-born pair. Silas—the quiet wall of muscle. Jurian—the loudmouthed best friend, of the Protagonist. The reason why these two were ranked this low, even though they belonged to the main cast, was because they missed the theoretical exam almost. They entered at the last minute.
"Student rank 45, Julia Evercrest."
Julia was individually strong, but thanks to her being a little dumb, she ranked lower than the others with her low theoretical exam results.
"Present."
"Student rank 5, Melissa Goldvain."
Then, there was Melissa. With her theoretical score being one of the highest, she was ranked fifth inside the academy overall, and she was the only archer that was in the rank of 50.
"Present."
"Student rank 3, Amelia Crimsonheart."
"Present."
Her reply was short, but her expression spoke louder than her voice. Amelia was known across the academy for her fiery temperament and personality, a girl who could ignite an argument as easily as she conjured flames. Yet, behind that heat burned a keen mind. As a mage, quick thinking and precise calculations were second nature to her; she thrived in theory and application alike.
Still, despite being ranked third, her lips pressed into a thin line. She wasn't satisfied.
"Student rank 2, Celestina Frostborn."
The next name rang out, and all eyes shifted to the poised girl sitting at the front. Celestina, elegant as ever, didn't bother turning her head—she merely spoke, her voice calm and clear.
"Present."
Her tone carried no arrogance, yet it cut Amelia deeper than any taunt could. The two had always been rivals, equal in both skill and reputation, their families standing as magical pillars within the Luminaris Dominion. But this time, Celestina had edged ahead, overtaking Amelia in the exams by the slimmest of margins.
And Amelia hated that
"Student rank 1, Adrian Lionheart."
"Present."
And finally, the crown jewel of pride and arrogance. Adrian—the academy's golden boy. Michael's first true rival. The Lionheart family heir.
With that, the roll was complete.
Elizabeth set her register aside and lifted her gaze once more.
"Then, let's begin with the lesson."
She launched into a lecture on weapon use: swords, bows, staves, daggers, and more. Every word was crisp, precise, authoritative. To the other students, it must have been intimidating and awe-inspiring. To me, it was… educational, yes, but mostly data.
Outwardly, I sat straight, eyes focused, mask of seriousness intact. Inwardly I was observing the main cast as well as Elizabeth. After all, it was my first time seeing them from the eyes of a person, rather than through the monitor or screen.
"Are you listening, Student Dravenlock?"
My name snapped like a whip. I looked up, meeting her red eyes.
"Yes, Professor," I replied evenly raising my head to meet her gaze .
Despite my calm reply, Professor Elizabeth didn't look convinced. Her sharp, squinting eyes remained locked on me, studying me closely, as if trying to see beneath my composed exterior.
I was well aware of her opinion of me. I was the lowest-ranked student in the first year, a rank that carried no prestige. I didn't come from a powerful family, nor did I possess any remarkable talent that could earn me a favor.
In this academy, strength, status and talent determined worth. Without any of those, ai knew I was seen as little more than prey in a world where only the strong survived.
"Since you seem attentive," she said at last, her lips curling faintly, "explain mana agglomeration and its advantages."
Ah. Of course. A trap.
Her lecture had been on weapons, not mana. No student here had been introduced to agglomeration yet. She was deliberately testing me with something I shouldn't know.
In truth, I did. Game knowledge filled the gaps: mana agglomeration was the focused compression of ambient mana into a denser form, heightening potency at the cost of stability. Advantages? Stronger attacks, improved mana efficiency, a step toward advanced manipulation.
But why should I perform here? My grades meant nothing. Recognition meant nothing
and I had no intention of giving a random nerdy answer to gather attention on me. Staying invisible until the right opportunities came—that was what mattered.
"I don't know," I said bluntly.
Her eyes sharpened. Pressure filled the room—not physical, not visible, but oppressive. She was exerting mana, pushing it against me like the weight of a mountain.
"You don't know?" she repeated softly.
"Yes," I answered, voice steady, even as the pressure gnawed at my bones. "Because you haven't covered that topic yet."
A flicker of surprise crossed her features—gone in an instant, replaced by smug satisfaction.
"Ah, but you still needed to study before coming here," she said, turning away from me as though I weren't worth her time. "Student Amelia, can you answer?"
Amelia straightened immediately, eager to prove herself.
"Yes miss Florentis .Mana agglomeration," she said, her voice clear and quick, "is the process of condensing dispersed mana into a concentrated form. It increases the potency of spells and can shorten casting time if the user's control is sufficient. However, it risks destabilization if the flow isn't balanced."
Elizabeth's lips curved faintly. "Correct. That is how you answer a question."
Her gaze flicked back to me, sharp as a knife. "Understood, Student Dravenlock?"
Laughter and whispers bubbled around me—mockery loud and unrestrained now.
I breathed out slowly, burying the frustration beneath cold steel.
"Understood," I said softly.
"Good." Elizabeth said as if she had won a small victory.
The lecture continued, and she didn't leave me alone. Again and again, she threw me questions—some relevant, others tangential. I answered where I could, deflected where I couldn't. It was deliberate. A reminder of my place.
But I endured.
'Looks like I was already on her blacklist before today.'
Finally, the lesson drew to a close. Elizabeth tapped her desk lightly, silencing the shuffle of bags and papers.
"Do not leave yet. As you know, we've completed the first month of curriculum. Starting this week, you will all apply for club memberships. Each student must join two."
I stilled, listening.
Here it was. The first real event.
The main characters would all choose the Adventurer and Exploration club as their first pick. It was the starting, where the first event took place. With so many key moments tied to this club, I knew it was the perfect choice for me as well.
My decision was already made.
'The other club... I'll figure it out later,'
The moment she dismissed us, I filled my request slip, dropped it into the box, and stood. Without a word, without a glance at the others, I left the room.
My footsteps echoed down the hall. Their laughter, their smirks, their contempt—they clung to me, but none of it mattered.
All that mattered was getting strong. Resources. Strength.
This wasn't about prestige. This wasn't about proving them wrong.
This was about not dying.
And I would claim everything I needed to make sure of that.
--------
Michael Orbane's gaze lingered on Arthur's retreating back, brows furrowed faintly.
Jurian leaned against his desk, smirking. "Who are you staring at, Michael?"
"That guy," Michael muttered.
Jurian grinned. "Oh, I see. Michael's got his eyes on someone. How cute."
Michael sighed. "Very funny."
Julia, noticing his gaze, followed it with a frown. "Oh, that loser?" she asked, voice sharp with disdain.
"Loser?" Michael repeated, his tone questioning.
"I mean the bottom-ranked one. What was his name?" Julia waved dismissively.
"Arthur," Jurian corrected.
"Yeah, Arthur, whatever. What about him?" Julia pressed.
Michael's eyes narrowed slightly. "I just saw him in the training area yesterday."
"So?" Jurian asked, uninterested.
Michael hesitated, then admitted, "He felt… different today. Like something changed."
There was a reason why Michael was the main character of the game. He was someone who had exceptional institution and sixth sense since he would get over quite a lot of life and death-situations thanks to this.
And his senses were tingling….
Jurian snorted. "Different? Now you are even scared of the last ranker"
"It's not that," Michael said, shaking his head. "It's just—he seemed gloomy before, but now… it feels like he has a purpose."
Jurian clapped his shoulder with a smirk. "Sounds like you're scared of him."
Before Michael could answer, a sharp voice cut in.
"Trash like him shouldn't even be on our radar." Amelia Crimsonheart crossed her arms, crimson hair flicking over her shoulder. "Why waste time on someone so insignificant?"
Michael frowned. "Amelia, there's no need to be so harsh. Everyone has their own struggles."
Melissa Goldvain, calm as ever, added gently, "Amelia does have a point. Our focus should be our own growth, not watching shadows."
"Exactly," Julia muttered, bored. "Can we drop this? Talking about him is a waste of time."
The group let it go, shifting the topic elsewhere.In the end, in front of the others, Michael decided to end this talk as the topic was changed.
Though, they never knew the young man they had just ignored would bring a lot of trouble to them….
---