The soft chime of the dormitory clock pulled me from sleep. My eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the faint glow of dawn spilling through the curtains. Another day at the academy. Another day to sharpen myself further.
I pushed off the blankets, washed, and dressed with practiced ease. My uniform hung crisp against my frame as I stepped into the small kitchen attached to my dorm. The sound of eggs sizzling in the pan, the faint smell of butter—it was simple, grounding. After eating, I cleaned up quickly and left for class.
The academy corridors were already alive with students, yet as I walked, the flow seemed to part unconsciously. My presence drew their eyes, whispers trailing in my wake. I ignored them; the weight of their stares was nothing new.
Inside the classroom, silence followed me like a shadow. I strode steadily to my desk, the same as yesterday, and sat down without a word.
Moments later, the teacher entered. With a flick of his staff, the mana-lamps brightened, and the wall-screen at the front of the room shimmered to life, runes shifting until neat diagrams and text formed in pale blue light. Students activated their crystal tablets—slim panes of enchanted glass that glowed faintly as they synced to the lecture feed. Notes etched themselves automatically across the surface, each rune stabilized by the spell-link.
The hum of mana filled the air, a steady counterpoint to the teacher's voice. Lessons flowed on, one subject after another, until the final projection dimmed and the wall-screen went dark.
When the last holo faded from the wall, I gathered my things and prepared to leave, but a voice cut through the noise.
"Adrian."
I turned, expression calm, though curiosity flickered in my chest. Kael stood there, flanked by Theodore Ashbourne, Vivienne Ashbourne, Nymera Dravenholt, and—my sister, Selene Ravenshade.
The sight of her face brought no ripple to mine, though inside, the question echoed: Why call out to me now?
"What is it?" I asked, tone flat, giving him nothing to grasp.
Kael hesitated only briefly before speaking. "Would you like to join us for lunch? In the cafeteria."
His tone was steady, but I caught the flicker in his eyes—uncertainty, maybe even hope. His friends' gazes pressed against me like needles, waiting, weighing. Selene's lingered the longest, heavy, searching for something I refused to show.
For a heartbeat, I almost considered it. The warmth of company. The quiet ache of blood ties.
I cut the thought down.
"No. I have training."
The words came sharper than I intended, but I left them standing, unbent. Without another glance, I turned and walked away.
The Gravitational Training Room loomed ahead, its stone walls veined with glowing runes. Among the academy's facilities, this was one of the most brutal—and most rewarding. Few students willingly came here. Most feared it. I embraced it.
Inside, the air thrummed faintly with restrained power. I paid 100 points at the counter, earning me three hours. Expensive, yes, but true growth demanded sacrifice.
The chamber door slid open, and I stepped inside. The walls shimmered faintly with enchantments, the floor etched with ancient scripts channeling unseen weight. I placed my hand on the control panel and set the gravity to Level 1.
Immediately, the air thickened. My body felt heavier, limbs pressing downward. I dropped to the ground and began my routine—push-ups, sit-ups, stretches. My breaths came slower, muscles tightening under the invisible weight. Five minutes later, I paused.
"Too easy."
I pressed the controls again. Level 2.
The pressure doubled. My shoulders sagged, breath shortened, every movement deliberate. Sweat began to bead across my forehead as I pushed harder, grinding through each exercise. Ten minutes passed before I straightened, chest heaving.
"Still not enough."
I increased it again. Level 3—the maximum allowed for C-rank trainees.
The air crushed down, heavy and merciless. My knees nearly buckled. The weight dug into my chest, my bones, my very breath, as if the room wanted me broken. For an instant, the whisper came: stop, just for a moment.
I bared my teeth and forced it down. Weakness wasn't an option. Not for me. Not with what was coming.
Sword in hand, I practiced swings and stances, the blade cutting sluggishly through the dense pressure. My dagger followed, its smaller frame no easier to wield under such strain.
Minutes blurred into hours. Muscles burned, lungs strained, sweat poured in rivers, yet I did not stop. When the chime finally sounded—my three hours complete—I collapsed to one knee, drenched and trembling.
The notification flickered on the screen: Session Ended.
A faint smile tugged at my lips. Pain meant progress.
After washing up, I returned to my dorm, prepared food, and ate in silence. My body ached, but my mind was sharp. At my desk, I opened my books. With my Perfect Memory Skill, entire volumes slipped into place within me like pieces of a puzzle. Page after page, knowledge consumed and retained.
Eventually, I pulled out my new phone—the latest NxSeries model. Its sleek frame glowed faintly in my hand as I browsed the global news. Timelines. Events. The clock of the world itself.
The Guild Incident hasn't happened yet. Good. That storm was still in the distance. For now, I had time.
I powered down the device, changed into pajamas, and sank into my near king-sized bed. Sleep claimed me swiftly.
At 6:00 a.m., I rose again. The morning air was crisp, fresh. After washing, I jogged across the academy grounds. Only a handful of students were out at this hour, their figures dotting the misty paths. Thirty minutes later, sweat streaked my back as I returned to my dorm, showered, dressed, and prepared my uniform. Breakfast came and went quickly.
On the way to class, I met Seris Eryndor.
Her white hair shimmered in the light of dawn, her pale skin flawless, her light-blue eyes sharp and distant. Even among elves, her beauty was striking, cold and untouchable. Sunlight caught her face and made her seem ethereal.
Students on the path slowed, staring in awe. None dared approach. They only whispered.
And then they noticed me walking toward her. Their expressions shifted—admiration, envy, awe, and even fear. Some girls glanced between us with restless unease, as if silently asking why she stood beside me and not them.
"Good morning," I greeted her. My tone was calm, but I caught the faint stir in the air as students leaned in, hungry for a crack in the mask I wore.
Seris's lips parted just enough to reply, her voice like frost on glass. "Morning."
A single word. Simple. Yet the way the students reacted, you'd think the heavens themselves had spoken.
We walked side by side. To onlookers, we must have seemed like a divine pair—untouchable, radiant, something above mortal reach. The whispers followed us all the way to the classroom.
Inside, silence rippled as we entered together. Curious stares burned holes into my back, but I ignored them, sliding into my seat.
The teacher arrived shortly, and lessons consumed the next hours.
When classes ended, I rose without a word and made my way to my destination—the Swordsmanship Club.
The training hall rang with the sound of steel. Blades clashed, feet scraped across polished floors, and voices rose in laughter and challenge.
At the reception desk, I handed over my registration slip.
"You'll need to take the entrance test," the receptionist said. "Defeat or impress a senior, and you'll be accepted. Fail, and you're refused entry."
"I'll take the test," I replied.
"Very well. Wait here. A senior will arrive shortly."
I nodded and stepped aside. Around me, club members sparred, their movements swift but flawed. I watched silently, memories of the novel replaying in my mind.
Kael had taken this same test once. He'd impressed them at Level 6 swordsmanship. But the vice president at that time—arrogant, cruel—had tried to crush him, forcing him beyond his rank. It had only ended when the club president intervened, publicly humiliating the bully and expelling him from his position. From then on, she had guided Kael, becoming his mentor.
And now it was my turn.
Ten minutes passed. Then the air shifted.
He entered.
Raven Lucien.
Second-year senior. Vice president of the Swordsmanship Club. Rank B.
A noble of the Auraldane Empire.
Blonde hair gleamed like polished gold, his green eyes sharp and merciless. The arrogance in his smile was deliberate, a blade meant to cut before our swords ever crossed. His gaze swept over me slowly, dismissive yet piercing—as if he'd already decided I wasn't worth his time.
My chest tightened, not with fear, but anticipation.
Finally. A wall worth breaking.
SS-Rank Sword Manual: Level-to-Rank
F (Lv. 1–2): Basics — stance, grip, fundamentals.
E (Lv. 3–4): Simple strikes, footwork, beginner combos.
D (Lv. 5–6): Intermediate drills, precision, reactions.
C (Lv. 7): Solid foundation; unlocks deeper sword principles.
B (Lv. 8–10): Advanced techniques, tactical maneuvers, flowing combos.
A (Lv. 11–13): Expert mastery; complex, powerful forms.
S (Lv. 14–16): Peak human-elite; untraceable speed, near-perfect execution.
SS (Lv. 17–20): Legendary realm; hidden moves, secret arts, mastery of sword essence.
Author's Note:Hey everyone! ✨If you're enjoying the story, drop a comment or review! I'd love to hear your thoughts—what excites you, or what you want more of. Your feedback makes the story better for all of us! 🙏