According to the annals of this world, life once mirrored that of Earth's medieval age—kingdoms and empires thrived, wars were waged with steel, and men raised castles to touch the heavens. All of that changed with the sudden emergence of the Shadow Gates.
From those gates poured forth abominations of darkness—shadow-born creatures whose very existence defied the natural order.
They swept across the lands like a plague, driving beasts, birds, and even the mightiest predators into extinction.
Human weapons, forged of steel and iron, proved useless, for their blades passed through the shadows as though slicing smoke. Only weapons fashioned from silver or gold left so much as a mark.
Thus began humanity's darkest age. Nations melted their treasures to arm their soldiers; crowns were stripped of their jewels to forge silver-edged spears.
Mercenaries became as valued as kings, but even they fell before the endless tide of monsters. Humanity seemed poised on the brink of annihilation—until the awakening of the first Martial Souls.
These rare gifts, ignited within the hearts of men and women, turned ordinary mortals into extraordinary warriors.
Their strength and spirit alone could wound the shadows, their weapons infused with power no metal could rival.
The tide shifted.
Humanity began not only to resist but also to reclaim.
When the gates themselves were finally forced open, a new revelation awaited.
The shadow world was not some barren abyss, but a realm as vast and wondrous as their own, overflowing with riches—seas of silver, veins of pure gold, and stranger metals unseen in the human world.
Within it roamed creatures bearing Shadow Cores, crystalline hearts of darkness.
By slaying these monsters and absorbing their cores, cultivators found they could temper their very beings, awakening one—or even all three—of the great paths: Martial Might, Psychic Power, and Magus Arts.
But there was danger in delay.
Left uncleared, the gates leaked their corruption into the mortal world, releasing hordes of monsters to prey upon villages, cities, and farmlands.
Humanity realized then that cultivation was no longer ambition—it was survival. To grow strong was not merely to chase glory but to guard existence itself.
Yet even with these revelations, mystery clung to the world.
More than ninety-five percent of the land remained unexplored, swallowed by wilderness and shadow. And though the human population had grown fiftyfold compared to Earth's, it was clear: this was a world immeasurably vast, filled with secrets still hidden in its uncharted corners.
Amid this crucible of danger and opportunity rose the great academies, foremost among them the Royal Academia.
Unlike Earth's simple colleges, the Academia was a world unto itself—a fortress-city of knowledge and power.
Within its walls stood no fewer than five Shadow Gates, each tethered to a distinct shadow realm. For students, these gates were both peril and promise: death for the unprepared, transcendence for the worthy.
But what set the Academia apart was not merely its gates, nor its reputation as one of the top five institutions with the highest cultivation success rates. It was its principle—talent alone does not define destiny.
Thus, its halls opened to all: noble heirs and commoners, humans and demi-humans, and vampires and demons alike. Within its walls, bloodline mattered little; only perseverance, will, and the mysteries one unraveled shaped one's fate.
It was this principle that allowed a low-ranked soul like Luxer to step through its gates. By the world's measure, he lacked brilliance, his Martial Soul dim compared to others.
Yet the Academia welcomed him, offering a chance to kindle strength where others saw only weakness.
The path ahead was perilous—failure meant expulsion, and expulsion meant returning to the world as prey. But for Luxer, this was not merely an academy.
It was an opportunity.
The next morning, Luxer opened his eyes with unusual clarity. Sleep had fled him, replaced by a sharp awareness that left him sitting bolt upright.
Something had changed. His gaze instinctively fell on the glowing lines of his status panel, and the moment he read them, his heart skipped a beat.
The first revelation nearly made him doubt his own senses—another martial soul had appeared alongside his incubus soul. When he summoned them together, the incubus phantom behind him spread its arms, and a single dark wing unfolded from its back.
It looked… mutated, transformed. Not weaker, not unstable, but more complete—as if his soul had taken the first step toward some hidden evolution.
But that was only the beginning.
A new codex shimmered faintly at the corner of his consciousness, like a locked door he had just found the key to. The moment he willed it open, the world around him tilted.
His spirit was drawn into a vast training domain, not physical but spiritual, where his body and techniques could be honed without limit.
At first glance, it felt like a dreamscape—calm, weightless, and endlessly steady.
But soon he realized the true value of this place: time itself flowed a hundred times slower here. An hour outside equaled a hundred hours within.
A single night's rest could contain centuries of training. Even better, his mind never grew weary in this realm.
Every breath restored him.
Every moment sharpened him.
The codex branched into four distinct environments, each designed to temper a different path.
The Magic Stimulation World appeared first.
Here, mana surged endlessly, flowing like a violent ocean. The air was thick with high-density mana, almost suffocating, making even the simplest spellcasting arduous.
Yet Luxer soon realized the hardship was its gift. Controlling magic in such heavy conditions forced his precision to grow and his senses to become sharper.
Every gesture, every weave of energy had to be exact, or it would collapse.
Slowly, he understood why great mages lived within palaces inscribed with rune arrays that gathered dense mana.
Just by existing in such places, one's mind naturally refined itself, advancing the chances of reaching new realms.
The Psychic Training World was stranger still.
When Luxer entered, he was suspended in a pitch-black void, senses stripped bare yet simultaneously expanded.
His body was gone; only his awareness remained, drifting among unseen stars. It was here that the faint spark in his soul blazed more vividly, allowing him to perceive delicate patterns—constellations of light hidden in the abyss.
When he focused on them, he felt a subtle pull, as though each constellation offered a thread of power tied to the elements of creation. If he could connect, he could borrow their strength, bending the forces of nature through sheer will. The experience was dizzying but also exhilarating.
Then came the Combat Simulation World. Unlike the others, this one was a blank slate, silent and empty. But the codex explained its potential: any enemy he defeated in reality would be recorded here, its soul body replicated endlessly, its strength amplified.
He could then face those enemies again and again, refining his instincts until battle itself became second nature.
An inexhaustible army of his past foes, waiting to test him until he transcended his limits.
Luxer's breath grew heavy with anticipation as he withdrew from the codex. His heart pounded—not with fear, but with excitement.
What he had stumbled upon was not merely a tool, but a miracle.
With this, he thought, even years of effort could be compressed into days. Growth that would normally take decades might only demand a fraction of time.
The mutated incubus soul behind him flapped its single wing, as if sensing his ambition. Luxer clenched his fists, a smile tugging at his lips.
"This…" He murmured to himself, "is simply a cheat..."
After confirming his strange gains from the night before, Luxer finally pulled himself back to reality. He dressed swiftly, letting the warm water from the shower wash away the heaviness of thought. By the time he stepped out, hair still damp and body refreshed, he noticed that Holland had yet to return.
Just as he was preparing to leave the inn, the door across the hall creaked open. Celia emerged. Her steps faltered the instant she saw him, her eyes lingering longer than usual. A blush spread quickly across her cheeks, betraying the image of the composed young lady she always tried to uphold. Luxer looked almost radiant—refreshed, clean, carrying an aura of sharpness she hadn't noticed before.
She gave a small, awkward nod, lips pressing together as if unsure of what to say. Then, without another word, she slipped past him, her pace hurried, and exited the inn. Luxer raised a brow, amusement flickering in his gaze, before he followed her outside.
At that exact moment, Holland came striding down the street. His clothes were slightly rumpled, and there was a shadow of exhaustion under his eyes. Still, he offered Luxer a quick smile and a friendly greeting before turning toward Celia.
She stopped him with a sharp look, her tone sharper still. "Where were you last night?"
It seemed she had many questions bottled up. Holland scratched the back of his neck, clearly reluctant but not wanting to deceive them either. Finally, he exhaled, his expression turning a shade bitter.
"I was… forced. By certain nobles," he admitted, his voice dropping with frustration. He didn't name names, but the way he bit down on the words noble made it clear how he felt.
The three of them stood in silence for a moment, the morning air crisp and carrying the muted noise of the waking city. Holland's shoulders sagged as if the weight of the night before was still clinging to him.
"We'll talk more later at the academy," Holland said, waving his hand dismissively. He looked as though he wanted nothing more than to skip the day altogether, but reality left him no such luxury.
Today was no ordinary day. It was the day every new student would be assigned—into groups, into classes, into dormitories.
Celia only nodded in agreement, her lips pressed into a thin line.
Luxer's eyes narrowed slightly as he listened. He had already heard enough about the academy's system to know how crucial this day would be. Each dormitory would house a single team, and that team would remain together for a year. They would study together, fight together, and—most importantly—enter the Shadow Gates together.
It was inside those gates that true growth could be carved. The fragments of shadow energy harvested from slain entities could be refined into cultivation resources. Even those of modest talent, if skilled enough in battle, could progress by leaps and bounds.
The academy's random assignments were notorious. Rumors said even the highest nobility had no way of tampering with them. Some whispered that the upper echelons of the academy carefully pulled the strings, deliberately deciding who went where. Others claimed it was truly random, a gamble of fate.
Whichever it was, the results could shape one's entire future.
Luxer felt a restless stir in his chest at the thought. For him, the unknown was not frightening—it was thrilling. He was eager to see who fate would place by his side. At the same time, he couldn't help but hope.
'As long as it isn't a pompous noble…'
He clenched his fist lightly. Sparring words and egos with aristocrats was something he could tolerate, but being chained to them for a year? That would be more trouble than it was worth.
And yet, a quiet, selfish part of him whispered another thought.
Celia. 'If only she ended up in the same dorm… then I'd have the perfect excuse to stay close. No Holland in between, no fleeting moments—just time. Enough time to slowly draw her to me.'
Luxer exhaled slowly, hiding the faint curve of a smile tugging at his lips.
The day ahead promised uncertainty, but beneath that uncertainty lay opportunity.