Day Fourteen.
The numbers haunted me like a countdown to execution. Which, technically, it was.
I stood in the training yard as dawn broke over Lourven Domain, my body already screaming from three hours of pre-dawn training. Sweat soaked through my shirt despite the morning chill, and my arms trembled from holding sword forms that Leon's muscle memory knew but Jake's mind was still learning to trust.
[RANK PROGRESS: Mortal (Low, 5%)]
Five percent. After two days of brutal, non-stop training, I'd gained a measly three percent.
At this rate, I'd hit maybe fifteen percent by the time the seven-day deadline hit. Nowhere near the twenty-five percent target.
I needed to train harder. Smarter. More efficiently.
"System," I muttered, lowering the practice sword. "Why is progression so slow?"
[ANSWER: Current training methods are inefficient. Host is performing rote exercises without proper challenge or risk. Significant rank advancement requires:]
[1. Combat experience against real threats]
[2. Mana refinement under stress conditions]
[3. Pushing physical and mental limits beyond safe thresholds]
[RECOMMENDATION: Seek combat opportunities. Current training environment is too controlled.]
Of course. Because why would anything be easy?
I couldn't just grind stats in a safe training yard like some idle game. Cyna didn't work that way. The power system here demanded risk, demanded pushing yourself to the edge of death to grow stronger.
Which meant I needed to find something to fight.
"Young master."
Rita's voice came from behind me, and I didn't jump—barely. I was getting used to her habit of materializing out of nowhere like a ghost.
"Rita," I acknowledged, turning to face her. "You're up early."
"I'm always up early," she said, her expression neutral but her eyes sharp. "The question is why you're destroying yourself before breakfast."
"Because I don't have time for a reasonable training schedule."
She studied me for a long moment, and I had the uncomfortable feeling of being analyzed by a predator. Rita might wear a maid's uniform, but she was Master rank (Mid) for a reason. She'd probably killed more people than I'd met in both my lives combined.
"The ruins," she said finally.
I blinked. "What?"
"Beyond the eastern border of Lourven Domain. Old fortress ruins, abandoned for decades. They're infested with low-level monsters now—wolves, slimes, goblins. The guards clear them out periodically, but they always return." She paused. "You need combat experience. That's where you'll find it."
"And Father would allow me to go fight monsters in ruins?"
Rita's lips twitched in what might have been amusement. "The Duke doesn't micromanage his children's training methods, young master. As long as you appear at required functions and don't embarrass the family, he doesn't care what you do with your time."
That tracked with what I knew of Duke Aldric. Results mattered. Methods didn't.
"How far?"
"Two hours on horseback. You could be there by mid-morning, train until evening, return by nightfall." She tilted her head slightly. "I could accompany you. For safety."
The offer was tempting. Having a Master rank assassin watching my back would dramatically improve my survival odds. But something made me hesitate.
If I was going to survive in this world, I needed to learn to rely on myself. The System was my advantage, my cheat code. But I couldn't become dependent on others to save me every time things got difficult.
"No," I said. "But thank you for the offer, Rita. And for the information."
She looked surprised—again, that flicker of reaction that showed through her professional mask. "You're certain?"
"I need to know what I'm capable of alone. If I can't handle goblins and wolves by myself, I have no business facing whatever the Academy entrance exam throws at me."
Rita regarded me with something that might have been approval. "You really have changed, young master."
"People change when they face death," I said, which was true enough. "Make sure the stables prepare a horse. I'll leave after breakfast."
She inclined her head and melted back into the estate's shadows, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the System's cold assessment of my inadequacy.
Time to change that.
---
Breakfast was a tense, quiet affair as usual.
Father sat at the head of the table, reading correspondence and occasionally grunting acknowledgment at whatever reports his steward delivered. Frey ate quickly, eyes downcast, clearly hoping to escape before drawing attention. Kira—
I paused, really looking at my youngest sibling for the first time.
Kira De Stellis was thirteen years old, honey-blonde hair pulled back in a simple braid, blue eyes that watched everything and revealed nothing. She wore a simple dress—practical, well-made but not ostentatious. Unlike Frey, who at least had the comfort of sword training and Father's occasional attention, Kira seemed to exist in the margins of the family.
Leon's memories provided fragments. Kira was quiet. Studious. She had Summoning Affinity—a magic-type affinity that was respectable and remarkable. She trained with a Grimoire and her summons, practiced her spells in private, and never caused trouble.
The original Leon had barely noticed her existence.
As I watched, Kira's eyes flicked up, met mine for a fraction of a second, then darted away. Her shoulders tensed, like a rabbit spotting a fox.
She was afraid of me.
The realization sat heavy in my chest. This was a child—my sister, at least in this life—and she flinched when I looked at her.
"Kira," I said, and the entire table went still.
Father's eyes lifted from his correspondence. Frey froze mid-bite. Kira looked like she wanted to disappear into her chair.
"Y-yes, brother?" Her voice was barely a whisper.
"How is your summoning progressing?"
The question seemed to confuse everyone, including Kira herself. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again. "I... it's progressing adequately, brother."
"Adequately." I let the word hang in the air. "That's a diplomatic way of saying you're not being challenged."
"I—I don't—" Kira stammered, panic creeping into her expression.
I softened my tone fractionally. "Summoning Affinity is versatile. Are you training with only combat familiars, or have you explored scouts, messengers, other applications?"
Kira stared at me like I'd started speaking a foreign language. "Just... just wolves and hunting cats. My instructor says that's the traditional path for Summoning users."
"Traditional is often another word for unimaginative." I took a sip of water, aware of Father's eyes on me now. "Summoning Affinity's strength is its flexibility. If you're only using it for direct combat, you're wasting potential."
"I..." Kira glanced at Father, then back at me. "I don't understand."
"Familiars can fight, yes. But they can also scout. Infiltrate. Gather intelligence. Even serve as decoys, if you're creative enough." I was pulling from Leon's theoretical knowledge now, things he'd read but never bothered to share. "If you want to improve, you need to think beyond what your instructor teaches."
Father made a sound that might have been interest. "Where did you learn this, Leon?"
"Books," I said simply. "The library has extensive texts on affinity applications. Most people just don't bother reading them."
It was a very Leon De Stellis answer—simultaneously insulting everyone else's work ethic while demonstrating his own superiority. But it was also true.
Father grunted and returned to his correspondence. Subject closed.
But Kira was still staring at me, confusion and cautious hope warring on her face.
Small victories, I reminded myself. I couldn't undo years of the original Leon's coldness in one conversation. But I could start changing the pattern.
"I'm going to the eastern ruins today," I announced to the table. "Training exercise. I'll return by nightfall."
"The ruins?" Frey looked up, surprised. "But those are infested with monsters."
"That's the point."
Father's eyes sharpened. "You're going alone?"
"Yes."
A long pause. Then: "Don't get yourself killed. The funeral would be inconvenient."
That was apparently the extent of Duke Aldric's fatherly concern. Not "be careful" or "take guards." Just "don't die because it would create paperwork."
"I'll keep that in mind, Father," I said dryly.
Breakfast concluded in its usual uncomfortable silence, and I headed to my room to prepare.
---
The ride to the eastern ruins took exactly two hours, as Rita had promised.
The horse the stable master provided was a beautiful black stallion named Shadow—because of course Leon De Stellis would have a horse with a dramatic name. He was fast, well-trained, and responded to my commands despite my having exactly zero horse-riding experience as Jake.
Fortunately, Leon's muscle memory handled the technical aspects, leaving my mind free to observe Lourven Domain properly for the first time.
The territory was... impressive.
Unlike the oppressive atmosphere of the Stellis estate, Lourven proper was vibrant and prosperous. Buildings rose in elegant spires, their architecture a mix of functionality and artistry. The streets were clean, well-maintained. Markets bustled with activity—merchants hawking wares, craftsmen displaying their skills, people going about their daily lives.
But there was a tension underneath the prosperity.
People saw the Stellis crest on my horse's saddle and moved aside. Not with respect—with fear. Mothers pulled their children close. Merchants stopped their pitches mid-sentence. Guards at intersections watched me pass with hands near their weapons.
House Stellis ruled Lourven Domain with efficiency and wealth. But they were feared, not loved.
The demon association, I realized. Even if the common people didn't know specifics, they knew enough to be wary. They knew House Stellis dealt with powers that other noble families wouldn't touch.
And they knew that made us dangerous.
I rode through the territory in silence, watching my supposed subjects watch me back with carefully neutral expressions that hid terror.
By the time I reached the eastern border, I was grateful for the isolation.
The ruins appeared gradually—first just scattered stones, then broken walls, then the skeletal remains of what had once been a fortress. Nature had reclaimed much of it; vines crawled up crumbling towers, trees grew through shattered foundations, moss covered everything in a blanket of green.
It was beautiful in a melancholy way. A monument to impermanence.
Also, according to my System's newly activated detection feature, it was absolutely crawling with monsters.
[DETECTING HOSTILE ENTITIES...]
[FOUND: 23 Wolf-type monsters (Mortal Rank, Low)]
[FOUND: 15 Slime-type monsters (Mortal Rank, Low)]
[FOUND: 8 Goblin-type monsters (Mortal Rank, Low to Mid)]
Forty-six targets. All roughly my rank or slightly above.
Perfect.
I dismounted, tied Shadow to a tree well away from the ruins proper, and drew my sword. Not a practice blade this time—I'd taken a real weapon from the armory. Still not a masterwork, just a standard military-grade longsword, but it was sharp and well-balanced.
Enough to kill.
"System," I said quietly. "Combat mode. Track experience gain and rank progression."
[COMBAT MODE ACTIVATED]
[CURRENT RANK: Mortal (Low, 5%)]
[KILLS REQUIRED FOR NEXT PERCENTAGE: Variable based on opponent strength]
[WARNING: Death is permanent. Host survival is not guaranteed.]
"Encouraging as always," I muttered.
I took a deep breath, felt for my mana, and began circulating it through my pathways. The process was smoother now after two days of constant practice. Not effortless, but manageable. I could maintain circulation while moving, while thinking, while fighting.
At least in theory.
Time to test that theory.
I moved into the ruins proper, my footsteps careful, senses alert. Leon's memories provided basic tracking knowledge—looking for disturbed earth, broken vegetation, territorial markers.
I found the first wolf pack within ten minutes.
Five of them, lean and gray, with eyes that glowed faintly with residual mana. Not normal wolves—these were mana beasts, animals that had absorbed enough ambient energy to mutate, to become something more dangerous.
They spotted me immediately. No hesitation—they attacked.
The pack leader came first, a blur of gray fur and teeth. My Basic Sword Affinity kicked in, and my body moved on instinct. I sidestepped, brought my blade down in a vertical slash.
The wolf twisted mid-leap, and my blade caught its shoulder instead of its neck. It yelped, blood spraying, but didn't fall. The wound wasn't deep enough.
The other four attacked from different angles, coordinated, pack tactics.
I pivoted, slashed at the nearest wolf, felt my blade connect with its ribcage. This cut was deeper, more solid. The wolf collapsed, whining.
But I'd overcommitted to the attack. Left my right side exposed.
Pain exploded across my ribs as another wolf's claws raked through my shirt and scored my skin. I gasped, stumbled, barely brought my sword up in time to block the pack leader's second attack.
Steel met teeth with a horrible scraping sound. The wolf's jaws clamped down on my blade, and we struggled for control, its hot breath reeking of rot and blood.
My mana circulation faltered. I was doing too many things at once—fighting, defending, maintaining energy flow. Something had to give.
I let the circulation drop and kicked the wolf in its chest as hard as I could.
It released my blade, stumbled back. I pressed the advantage, stepped forward, and drove my sword through its throat in a brutal thrust.
Hot blood fountained across my hands. The wolf gurgled, collapsed, stopped moving.
[WOLF-TYPE MONSTER DEFEATED]
[EXPERIENCE GAINED: 0.3%]
Three wolves left. The injured one was limping away, clearly deciding I wasn't worth it. The other two circled, more cautious now that I'd killed their leader.
I was bleeding. My side hurt. My hands were shaking from adrenaline.
And I was grinning.
This was real. This was dangerous. This was exactly what I needed.
The two wolves attacked together, trying to overwhelm me. But I was ready this time. I didn't try to maintain mana circulation—just focused on the fight, on reading their movements, on applying my Basic Sword Affinity's knowledge.
First wolf: diagonal slash, caught it across the face. It yelped, blinded in one eye, retreated.
Second wolf: stepped into its charge, let its momentum carry it past me, slashed down at its exposed back. Clean hit, spine severed. It dropped instantly.
[WOLF-TYPE MONSTER DEFEATED]
[EXPERIENCE GAINED: 0.3%]
The half-blind wolf decided discretion was the better part of valor and fled into the ruins.
I let it go, leaning against a broken pillar, catching my breath.
My first real combat. Messy, uncoordinated, nowhere near as elegant as Leon's memories suggested fighting should be.
But I'd won.
I'd survived.
[RANK PROGRESS: Mortal (Low, 5.9%)]
Not even a full percentage point from two wolf kills. The System was right—grinding was going to be brutal.
I checked my wound. The claw marks weren't deep, more like bad scratches than true lacerations. Painful but not crippling. I had basic medical supplies in my pack; I could potion it.
But first, I needed to keep hunting.
---
The next six hours were a blur of violence and learning.
I fought slimes—gelatinous creatures that absorbed physical impacts and had to be cut apart systematically. Each kill gave 0.2% experience. Inefficient but safe practice.
I fought more wolves—learned their patterns, how they coordinated, where their blind spots were. Started incorporating basic mana circulation into combat, using small bursts of energy to enhance single strikes rather than trying to maintain constant flow.
I fought my first goblin and almost died.
The little bastard was smarter than the wolves. It used tools—a crude spear that it thrust with surprising skill. It dodged my attacks, set up traps using the ruins' terrain, and nearly gutted me twice before I managed to corner it and put my blade through its chest.
[GOBLIN-TYPE MONSTER DEFEATED]
[EXPERIENCE GAINED: 0.8%]
Goblins were worth more experience, but they were also significantly more dangerous.
By the time the sun started setting, painting the ruins in shades of amber and blood, I'd killed:
- 12 wolves
- 8 slimes
- 4 goblins
I was covered in blood—some mine, mostly theirs. My clothes were torn. My body ached from dozens of minor injuries. I'd been knocked down, clawed, bitten, nearly impaled by a goblin spear.
But I was alive.
[RANK PROGRESS: Mortal (Low, 12%)]
Twelve percent. Seven percent gained in one day of brutal combat.
At this rate, if I could maintain this pace, I might actually hit twenty-five percent in seven days.
I limped back to where I'd tied Shadow, the horse looking at me with what I swore was equine judgment for my appearance.
"Don't judge me," I muttered, pulling myself into the saddle with a wince. "You try fighting goblins and see how pretty you look afterward."
The ride back to the estate was slower, every bump in the road sending jolts of pain through my accumulated injuries. But I used the time productively, resuming my mana circulation practice. The pathways were becoming more familiar, the flow more natural.
[SKILL PROGRESSION: MANA CIRCULATION - 68% toward Intermediate level]
Progress. Slow, painful, blood-soaked progress. But progress nonetheless.
Lourven Domain was quiet as I rode through in the early evening. The markets were closing, people returning home, the bustling energy of midday replaced by a more subdued atmosphere.
They still stared at me. Still moved aside. But now I was also covered in blood and monster gore, which probably didn't help the "terrifying noble" image.
I made it back to the estate just as full darkness fell. The guards at the gate took one look at me and wisely said nothing, just opened the gates and let me through.
Rita materialized as I dismounted in the courtyard, her expression carefully neutral despite my appearance.
"Successful training, young master?"
"Define successful," I said, wincing as I handed Shadow's reins to a waiting stable boy. "I'm alive. I gained experience. I learned valuable lessons about goblin combat tactics. I may also need medical attention."
"The bathing chamber is prepared. I'll bring medical supplies." She paused. "Dinner is in one hour. The Duke expects your attendance."
Of course he did.
"I'll be there," I promised.
Rita nodded and disappeared, leaving me to limp toward my chambers.
I passed Frey in the hallway. He took one look at me—blood-soaked, torn clothes, visible wounds—and his eyes went wide.
"Leon? What happened? Are you—"
"I'm fine," I cut him off. "Training."
"That's training?" He looked horrified.
"That's effective training," I corrected. "You should join me tomorrow. Build character."
The look of absolute terror on Frey's face was almost worth the pain I was in.
I continued to my chambers, where a hot bath was indeed waiting. I peeled off my ruined clothes, sank into the water with a groan of relief, and let the heat soothe my battered body.
[SYSTEM ANALYSIS: Host has sustained multiple minor injuries. Recommend rest period of 12-24 hours before resuming combat training.]
"Denied," I said aloud. "I don't have time for rest periods."
[WARNING: Pushing beyond physical limits without recovery increases risk of permanent injury.]
"Noted. Ignored. Next quest."
A pause, as if the System was judging me.
[NEW QUEST AVAILABLE: PREDATOR'S PATH]
[Objective: Defeat 50 monsters without retreating from combat]
[Difficulty: C-Rank]
[Time Limit: 3 Days]
[Reward: Combat Instinct (Passive Skill), +2 Agility]
[Failure: None]
[ACCEPT QUEST? YES/NO]
Combat Instinct sounded useful. And agility would help with not getting hit in the first place.
"Accept."
[QUEST ACCEPTED: PREDATOR'S PATH (0/50)]
I closed my eyes, letting the hot water work its magic on my sore muscles. Tomorrow, I'd go back to the ruins. Fight more monsters. Push harder, faster, become stronger.
Because in eleven days, I'd face Arielle De Luna at the entrance exam.
And unlike the monsters in the ruins, she wouldn't be a Mortal rank threat.
She'd be something far worse.
But that was a problem for future Leon. Present Leon needed to survive dinner with Father without bleeding on the expensive furniture.
---
Dinner was exactly as awkward as expected.
I'd cleaned up as best I could—fresh clothes, bandages hidden under my shirt, hair combed back. But I couldn't hide the bruise on my jaw or the way I moved with careful stiffness.
Father noticed immediately. He always noticed everything.
"You look like you lost a fight," he observed, cutting into his meal with precise movements.
"I look like I won several fights," I corrected. "The ruins were productive."
"Productive." Father's lips twitched in what might have been amusement. "You went to fight monsters alone. That was either brave or stupid."
"Why not both?"
Frey made a strangled sound that might have been a suppressed laugh. Kira stared at her plate like it held the secrets of the universe.
Father actually smiled—a cold, sharp thing that didn't reach his eyes. "Indeed. Though I notice you survived, which suggests competence. How many did you kill?"
"Twenty-four," I said, because there was no point in false modesty with Duke Aldric. He respected results, not humility.
"Twenty-four." He set down his fork, regarding me with something that might have been approval. "In one day. That's... not insignificant for your rank."
"It was necessary. The entrance exam is in eleven days. I need combat experience against real threats, not practice dummies."
"You could have taken guards. Rita offered to accompany you, I'm told."
So he knew. Of course he knew. Nothing happened in this estate without Father knowing.
"I need to know what I'm capable of alone," I said, echoing what I'd told Rita. "If I'm going to represent House Stellis at the Academy, I can't rely on others to fight my battles."
Father studied me for a long moment, his steel-gray eyes unreadable. "You've changed, Leon."
My blood went cold. Did he suspect? Could he somehow tell I wasn't the original Leon?
"People change when they face important challenges," I said carefully. "The entrance exam matters. I'm treating it seriously."
"Hmm." Father returned to his meal. "See that you continue to do so. House Stellis has enough problems without our heir failing publicly."
The conversation shifted to estate business—reports from stewards, news from other territories, the usual political maneuvering that seemed to consume Father's existence.
But I felt Kira's eyes on me several times during the meal. Curious, assessing, like she was trying to solve a puzzle.
I ignored it. I had bigger problems than my youngest sister's suspicions.
After dinner, I returned to my chambers, dismissed Rita's offer to help with wound care, and sat cross-legged on my floor to resume mana circulation training.
The pathways were becoming familiar now. Almost comfortable. The mana flowed more smoothly, required less conscious effort to guide.
[SKILL PROGRESSION: MANA CIRCULATION - 72%]
Four more percentage points. At this rate, I'd hit Intermediate level within a few days.
I checked my overall progress.
[RANK PROGRESS: Mortal (Low, 12%)]
[DAYS UNTIL ACADEMY ENTRANCE EXAM: 11]
[DAYS UNTIL QUEST DEADLINE (FOUNDATIONS OF POWER): 5]
Thirteen percent to go in five days to complete the quest. With brutal daily grinding in the ruins, it was achievable. Difficult, painful, but achievable.
I opened the new quest details again.
[PREDATOR'S PATH (0/50)]
[Defeat 50 monsters without retreating from combat]
Without retreating. That meant I had to commit to every fight, couldn't run if things got bad. Fifty kills while taking that risk.
Dangerous. Potentially fatal if I bit off more than I could chew.
But the reward—Combat Instinct—could be the difference between survival and death at the exam.
"No risk, no reward," I muttered, pulling up my full status.
[STATUS DISPLAY]
NAME: Leon De Stellis
AGE: 17
RANK: Mortal (Low, 12%)
POTENTIAL: Paradox
AFFINITY: [??????]
ATTRIBUTES:
- Strength: 12
- Agility: 15
- Endurance: 13
- Mana Pool: 10
- Mana Control: 9
- Intelligence: 18
- Wisdom: 16
- Charisma: 14
TALENTS:
- Basic Sword Affinity (Level 1)
ACTIVE QUESTS:
- Survive the Astral Academy Entrance Exam (11 days)
- Foundations of Power (5 days, 13% progress needed)
- Predator's Path (3 days, 0/50 monsters)
Three active quests. Eleven days until potential death.
And I was just getting started.
I settled deeper into meditation, feeling the mana flow through my pathways, feeling my body slowly adapting to this new reality.
Jake Cornelli had spent twenty-three years as a prisoner in his own failing body.
Leon De Stellis had fifteen days to live according to the original timeline.
But I was neither of those people anymore. I was something new—a fusion of Jake's determination and Leon's potential, guided by a System that promised power in exchange for relentless effort.
And I would take that exchange.
Every. Single. Day.
Until either I transcended into something that couldn't be killed, or I died trying.
There really wasn't a third option.
The night deepened around me as I trained, the estate settling into silence, and somewhere in the darkness, my future waited.
Eleven days.
I just had to survive eleven days.
Then everything would change.