The morning air was crisp and fresh as I stepped outside for my jog. The world was slowly waking up, and the sun cast a soft golden glow over the academy grounds. My footsteps hit the pavement rhythmically, each one grounding me, clearing my mind. Jogging wasn't just exercise—it was a ritual, a way to shake off sleep, focus my thoughts, and prepare for the day ahead. By the time I returned to my dormitory, sweat clung to my skin, and my muscles were pleasantly sore. I wiped my face, feeling the morning chill, and headed straight for a bath.
The warm water soothed my body and mind, washing away not just the sweat but also any lingering tension from the previous day. When I emerged, I dressed in my uniform, the fabric crisp against my skin. I moved to the kitchen and prepared breakfast: eggs, toast, and fruit. As I ate, I thought about the day ahead, my mind already strategizing. Dishes done, I left my room and made my way through the bustling academy halls.
Students murmured as I passed, as always. Their voices faded into the background. I had long since learned that their opinions were meaningless. My focus was on reaching my classroom.
The room was as expected: students at their desks, some whispering, some glancing my way. I walked to my seat and sat, waiting for the professor. When she arrived, the lecture began. Hours passed in a blur of instruction, exercises, and theory until, finally, class ended. I stretched, gathered my belongings, and left for the swordsmanship club.
The familiar scent of polished wood and leather greeted me. I picked up my sword and began training, each movement precise, deliberate, each strike a test of skill and control. Just as I was about to stop, a presence made itself known.
Nymera Dravenholt.
The lioness princess of the Dravenholt Empire stood before me, golden blonde hair glowing under the club lights, emerald eyes sharp and piercing. She exuded confidence, a proud warrior ready to test her mettle. I remembered the novel: she frequently challenged the main character and often lost, yet she always returned, her determination unshaken. Over time, she became not just an opponent, but a partner, eventually even joining his harem. I couldn't help but think how absurd it seemed—how many women did one person need to think about? That question aside, I focused on the duel ahead.
"You're powerful. Let's duel," she said, her voice calm yet commanding. I nodded. I wanted to measure my strength against someone from the main cast, to see how much my swordsmanship had grown.
The duel was intense. Nymera pressed hard, her strikes precise and aggressive, but my training had clearly surpassed hers. Her rank was C- with a sword skill of level 6, while I was C+ with level 7. The gap in our abilities was undeniable, and when the duel ended, she had lost—but satisfaction shone in her eyes. She had faced a stronger opponent and respected it.
After leaving the club, I headed to the Duelist Club. I registered and walked toward a nearby arena. On my way, I noticed a duel taking place. Theodore Ashbourne was facing off against another student. His mastery of the sword was evident as he overwhelmed his opponent, ultimately winning, the crowd cheering in excitement.
Afterward, Theodore approached me, awkwardness in his posture. He carried guilt—memories of being ignored and mocked weighed on him.
"Let's duel," he said quietly. I nodded calmly. We walked to the arena and fought for ten minutes. In the end, I defeated him easily.
"Do you have time?" he asked. I nodded. We left the club, finding a quiet corner away from the noise of the crowd. I turned to him, my voice calm, almost cold.
"I don't care about others' opinions anymore," I said. "I was weak before, ignored, mocked—but that's the past. My only goal now is to become the strongest. Apologies mean nothing to me."
He bowed his head. "I'm sorry for not helping you when you needed it most."
"I don't care about the past," I replied firmly. "You don't need to apologize."
Relief washed over him, and he thanked me for forgiving him. From that moment, he had a purpose—to support me in any way he could.
Returning to my dormitory, I washed off the sweat from training and freshened up. Dinner was simple but satisfying. I ate quietly, then sat in the living room, planning my next steps. I needed to find the strategist for the guild I intended to build. Once my plans were in place, I changed into pajamas and went to bed, hoping tomorrow would bring progress.
The next day, I followed my usual routine: jogging, bathing, breakfast. Classes passed in their usual rhythm. After the final lecture, I decided to skip the club. Instead, I headed to the teleportation portal nearby, a hub of constant movement. Students moved in every direction, and I waited my turn, considering my investment strategy. I knew precisely where to put my money from reading the novel.
When it was my turn, I told the operator, "Luminas City," in the Ravenscar territory near the borders. The portal hummed, and the world blurred. Moments later, I arrived.
The city was alive. Adventurers moved purposefully, merchants shouted, and the streets buzzed with activity. My heart calmed at the lively scene, a welcome contrast to the calculated nature of my previous actions.
I made my way to a quiet corner, where Dorian Flaskwright, the alchemist, worked. He was middle-aged, silver-streaked brown hair, neat beard, gray eyes sharp and calculating. Vials jingled in his ink-stained coat, and the scent of herbs and smoke filled the air. He didn't notice me at first, so absorbed was he in his work.
"Who are you?" he asked, startled when I approached.
"Adrian Kaelthorn, first-year apex of Nova Academy. I have a proposal for you," I said, sitting down.
He considered my words. In the novel, Dorian would become a famous alchemist, but funding was scarce now. I offered to invest in his research in exchange for 70 shares of his company. Initially, he balked, offering only 55. I produced a potion formula from the novel—a potion of extraordinary effectiveness. Shocked, he accepted, and we signed the documents.
Next, I traveled to my final destination, about an hour away. A futuristic taxi carried me through the Ravenscar territory. The lower-middle-class neighborhood I arrived in was bustling, and people stared, curious about the finely dressed stranger walking through their streets. I reached the house I had memorized from the novel and knocked.
A young man, Mirael Kaith, answered. Lavender hair, amethyst eyes, sharp but cautious. Recognition flashed instantly.
"Hello, Mr. Mirael. I am Adrian Kaelthorn, first-year apex of Nova Academy," I said.
He stepped aside, confused, and invited me in. "What can I do for you, sir?"
I explained my proposal: he would be the brain of my guild. He had not awakened mana, would remain rank F, but I needed his intelligence, not combat ability. I promised support for his mother. After hesitation, he agreed, and we signed the guild documents.
Returning to Nova Academy via the portal, I admired the moonlit scenery. The silver glow illuminated the grounds, serene and beautiful. I freshened up, made dinner, ate, and went to bed, hopeful for tomorrow.
The following day, I followed the same routine: jogging, bathing, breakfast, classes. After school, I went to the swordsmanship club. Kael Rivers, the main character, was there, passing a test with impressive skill. I greeted him, then moved to a corner to train. Nymera arrived, and our duel showed her improvement since yesterday.
After training, I asked if she had time. We went to the nearby cafeteria, sat, and I handed her a contract. She signed without question. When asked why she joined, she said, "I want to fight stronger opponents," her eyes meeting mine. My heart raced, though I kept calm.
Finally, I visited the Swordsmanship Club's president. She practiced her sword skills with remarkable precision. I asked if she had time, and she agreed. We went to a quiet bench, where I handed her the contract naming her vice guild master. She read it carefully and signed calmly. When I asked why, she said softly, "Because you are lonely."
Her words struck me deeply. Memories of my past lives flooded back: my mother in the hospital, my sister's suicide, my own failures, being mocked and abandoned. The grief I had buried for so long overwhelmed me. For the first time in years, I let it out. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. I cried for the loneliness, the pain, the injustice, the countless moments of despair. She held me, her presence steady and comforting.
"It's alright. You're not alone," she whispered. "I'm here."
Her words, simple yet profound, touched something I had thought was lost forever. Memories of my two past lives—the struggles, the pain, the betrayals—all converged in that moment. I clung to her embrace, finally allowing myself to feel.
"Thank you," I murmured, my voice shaky.
"You're not alone," she repeated, smiling softly. "If no one else worries about you, I will."
Seeing her smile, I felt my heart pound fiercely. I whispered my thanks once more, then, embarrassed, left the bench and hurried back to my dormitory.
I freshened up, made dinner, ate, changed into pajamas, and collapsed onto my bed. For the first time in a long while, I felt hope stirring in my chest, a sense that tomorrow might be brighter than today.